Chapter Text
The Everday’s light warms Mydei’s chest as he stands on his balcony, watching the faraway statue of Kephale. So many years since he last returned to Castrum Kremnos…
So many years since he drew his spread through the chest of King Eurypon—his Father. The King who got corrupted. The person who threw his infant son into the Sea of Souls… and the one who killed his wife when she tried to fight for their son. Not like he remembers—these are only facts.
Mydei wills the recollections to fade back into the waves of his thoughts that emerge in his mind like enormous tides—the waves that rise and fall… but only as long as Mydei lets them. Keeping precise governance over the inside of his mind is not just a need but a must—a skill that Mydei has perfected a long time ago.
The day he has been waiting for so long might come tomorrow. It must.
His anger and desire to bring justice for the bloodied and corrupted land he still thinks of as home, are burning deep. Mydei has been ready for this—and tomorrow simply cannot come soon enough.
Mydei’s eyes are on the perfectly blue sky and the shining, tall statue of Kephale—but what he sees is the blood, the fear, the treachery, and the lost way that have poisoned Castrum Kremnos. Mydei sees the black tide and Nikador—the Titan who once was the guardian of Amphoreus. The queller of the Strife is also the Strife… except Nikador fell.
Grief and anger boil at the bottom of the ocean of Mydei’s soul—yet the surface is unbothered.
Mydeimos is in control. He has always been. He always had to be.
Approaching footsteps guide back Mydei’s attention to the present. Phainon walks across Mydei’s bedroom, then joins him on the balcony, leaning at the railing. On the rare occasion, he comes without words—neither of them needs to say what their minds are at now. A few moments later, turning his head towards the Kremnoan, Phainon takes a thorough look, then redirects his sky-blue gaze back at the statue of their omnipotent God.
“Do you trust the Outsiders enough that they may accompany us tomorrow?” Mydei asks in a flat voice, his hands crossed in front of his chest. His tall frame towers over Phainon’s leaned-down form, his amber gaze still trained on Kephale. There is so much at stake.
Everything is at stake. Yet...
Mydei already suspects with enough certainty that he would dare to say he knows that no more Chrysos Heir but he and Phainon can go to Castrum Kremnos tomorrow. Okhema—the citizens—must be protected. Mydei would never disagree with this…
…and it’s not like it matters to him if it’s only the two of them—he would even go alone. Mydeideimos wishes he could go already. He hasn’t felt the tingle of restlessness deep in his bones this much in a long time, not since he fought evil by the side of old warriors who left to the other side, one by one.
Before Mydei’s mind could go down a hole he does not wish to visit, the answer comes already:
“I do,” Phainon says, sincerely, not skipping a beat. As the sound of his words dies away, he straightens up and turns back towards Mydei—the matter is important enough he makes sure his gaze meets the Kremnoan’s.
It is one thing that Mydei knows Phainon cares deeply—then it’s another to see his resolve and the indestructible will and belief he has. For their cause—and also for Mydei.
(Not believing anymore would destroy Phainon and send him back to become the shadow of a person he once was before the prophecy found him and gave him a second chance after his destroyed homeland. Phainon has faith—in everything but himself.)
There could be so much to say but no words could make Mydei think less about the day he has waited almost his entire life to happen. They should be getting rest but even the idea of sleep feels impossible—and seeing the almost hectic light in Phainon’s eyes, Mydei thinks the younger Chrysos Heir is also way too eager to go. To go, finally. To take the first big step on their road.
Throughout the years they spent together, it has been Mydei who has indulged Phainon in his challenges and rivalry, and also in the explanations and hard truths once it was impossible to deter Phainon’s mind from a particular matter. Throughout the years Phainon has learnt a lot… and tonight he indulges Mydei in careful ignorance to not press over the topic and talk more.
Mydei thinks about kissing Phainon and acting on his desire when the younger man steps forward and slides a hand to the small of Mydei’s back—this is the only invitation and confirmation Mydei needs to proceed with the rest. A night spent together may be the best way to bring some sleep to both of them.
A trip down his memory lane, unavoidable—all the while as they walk through the remnants of Castrum Kremnos. The corruption and the pain etched into these walls clenches Mydei’s heart and makes him wish he could somehow just bear all this alone—as if this could ever be enough to take away the suffering of everyone.
Sometimes, his rejection at Death’s door and the hell (that Mydei would never admit out loud) down there he has lived through almost sound like mockery—no matter his father’s actions, the black tide did not spare even the mighty Nikador.
Rivalry and bickering, the now it’s all-familiar rhythm Mydei falls into after Phainon’s proposal—it is practical and speeds up their way but also it gives Mydei the chance to keep to himself while strolling through corridors he once knew, even if only for a short time. Phainon would never offer him time alone while mentioning Mydei’s personal reasons… but he does through the ways they know. Mydei only hopes Phainon is aware he is grateful.
.
.
.
Their battles with monsters lead to the fallen Titan and a fight, then…
As Nikador revives, the next step to do now calls Mydei like destiny.
For a fleeting moment, it crosses Mydei’s mind that Phainon may disobey him and argue… but then his trust and faith in the younger Chrysos Heir smoothes out the rippling waves and brings back Mydei to the calm acceptance that is fueled by his will, anger, and wishes, threatening to erupt like a volcano.
Eventually, Phainon and the Outsider leave.
One more time—with the same eagerness he had before—Mydei walks towards the corrupted wretch that Nikador is and the neverending fight that goes between two immortals begins with the first clash of weapons. It takes Mydei less than sixty seconds to endure his first death: Nikador drives his lance through the middle of the Kremnoan Heir’s chest, impaling him with a powerful move Mydei hasn’t seen him use before.
Mydei’s body gives up and he ceases to exist—then the underworld ‘welcomes’ him, wordlessly letting the thick Sea swallow him whole… only to be rejected one more time.
Still in pieces, not everything fully repaired, yet having learnt how to deal with the immense pain and let adrenaline help to fully ignore it so he can go on, as soon as Mydei is back, he jumps up again and drives his spear through Nikador’s chest akin the way his God had just moments ago. This time it is the Titan’s momentary defeat—but before Mydei can do much more, Nikador also springs back to life.
What horrid creatures they both are…
Mydei dies for the second, the third, then the fourth time… Then the sequence is followed by his fifth, sixth, and seventh deaths.
He stops counting after the thirty-eight one.
Gutted, his lungs punctured, his brains flowing out of his skull, his shoulders dislocated, his ankles broken, his femur and shin bones shattered into pieces… This and that, all types and kinds of pain Mydei welcomes almost as friends.
Except unlike other times, no matter how well he does and how fast he springs back to life and to action—as fast as his body physically allows him, as fast as his tissues connect just enough that his body functions on the biomechanical level—Nikador matches him in his freaky way of defying death.
The more Mydei tries to strategize and infect a wound on Nikador that interrupts the Titan, yet doesn’t send him to death so it can’t heal and return to full strength, the more Nikador imitates his methods. It causes Mydei to almost (but he does not) wrangle and wither like a worm while he is pierced to the ground by the Titan’s lance, driving through Mydei’s leg, his bones and flesh mixing in a reddish pulp. Nikador holds his arms so the Kremnoan Prince cannot wield his blood-made weapons to end himself for a rebound.
It is wicked and witty and makes Mydei plaster a grin on his face that almost tells of insanity.
Theirs is a two-sided failure: while Nikador must chain Mydei to the ground to cause him more pain and deny him death, the Titan is also tied to Castrum Kremnos and cannot go to prevent Phainon and the Outsider to find a solution that undoes the immortality of the fallen God. Their fight is a clash of wills, made in poetic cruelty—neither can die, and neither intends to give up.
Everything good that once Nikador represented burns and fuels Mydeimos—while in front of him, against him, there are the same virtues, fueled by the corrupted, misled, despicable evilness of the black tide that steams and propels the Titan.
Fighting, dying, reviving—a never-ending circle.
Mydei finds a way to end himself while Nikador holds him down so they can restart… until a few deaths later they arrive at the same turning point that leads nowhere, just puts them stationary.
Completely losing his sense of time and life becoming only the record of the heavy thickness of the Sea of Souls or the white pain and red fury of the fight, Mydei goes against Nikador over and over again and does not give up.
Time passes in the infinitum of clashing blades and the neverending agony of dying. At one point, Phainon and the Outsider return, alongside Castorice and a pet-like creature—later Mydei learns it is called Mem.
With a solution from the past (Mydei almost even can’t imagine how it could be to walk Castrum Kremnos before it fell—his memories of the past part-time being vivid, while also shaded with blood and grief that turns everything grey) Nikador’s immortality is now gone… and they defeat the Titan together. The Strife’s last attack is stopped with the help of Aglaea and Tribios.
Mydei is alive and his body is mostly in one piece—at least it holds him up. After his last rebirth, he finally could start to fully become one piece again… Yet after so many deaths and the extent of all damage that could never fully heal before he touched the black surface of the Sea of Souls again, this time it just takes so much longer.
His vital organs heal first and his body becomes structurally stable enough that he can stand and rush back to a fight—the next step is when bleeding at all his remaining wounds stops and his skin closes, markless. Mydei may look fine very soon after a rebirth, but it can take his body many more hours until every structure inside is fully repaired—the pain of the healing and the phantom pain of the wounds lingering around until Mydei manages to sleep it away and cut the all-too-familiar feeling of hurt out of his mind.
As Mydei once said to Phainon, his strength isn’t due to his training… but it is the result of his capability to endure pain.
Sometimes, Mydei almost wishes he would have kept Phainon in blissful ignorance—but then even the sheer idea feels wrong because they don’t lie to each other, not when it matters, not like this… nor has had Mydei any reason to hide things from Phainon. Throughout the decades he walked this land, Mydei has learnt to handle himself (very early, he did) and he had never thought the topic would end up concerning Phainon—except it does because the younger Chrysos Heir cares more about Mydei’s hurt than Mydei himself.
Still, Phainon would never take away Mydei’s pride.
No matter his bloody state, when they all speak about Nikador but Mydei speaks of Castrum Kremnos, it is Phainon who replies and gives Mydei a chance to turn the conversation back to business. If Mydei would want to continue with his sentiment, he easily could. Mydei is obvious to Phainon’s doing—and ever since they arrived in Kremnos, this hasn’t been the first instance.
Mydei’s gratitude is in the smallest of changes in his tone—he is now sure Phainon notices and understands. With the Coreflame in front of them though, the rippling waves of Phainon’s insecurity shift the mood of their conversation.
Although Phainon hasn’t mentioned Mydei’s state yet, he makes the mistake of doing so now—not meanly, but with intention, Mydei uses this as a hold to press Phainon into touching the Coreflame. It must be his destiny… as Mydei refuses to make it his own. Maybe Phainon is right and Mydei knows (deep down, at a place that Mydei doesn’t touch, at one where the horror of his possible corruption and repeating history is too big and something Mydei does not intend to bear—the first and only thing his whole life he refuses) it should be him…
But for now, urging Phainon through this is the only way. Nothing much happens once Phainon connects with the Coreflame—he does try to keep his cool but his relief is written all over him. Mydei admits to himself that the sight also fills up his chest with calmness, the strain of his injuries and the burning pain of healing feeling a little less intense and easier to bear.
With a heavy heart, Phainon bids goodbye to the Outsiders. No matter his previous lies to Aglaea and Tribbie, the fake confidence he managed to muster disappears as soon as he turns the first corner on the corridors that lead away from the main area of the Okheman bathhouse.
Phainon thinks of his homeland—he thinks of the past these days more than he has done in the time before, ever since the prophecy saved him from the wretched, empty state that the destruction of everything important left him in.
Some days, Phainon tries to reason with himself, and he almost believes he did his best. These days are easier because he can focus on the future and what he can do now instead of getting lost in things he cannot change.
Then, on other days, Phainon can’t stop thinking about what more he could have done—even if this means he would have died with everyone else. Maybe, the evil and most insecure part of Phainon’s mind says, that would have been the best.
A part of him wishes he could slap himself on the face because his presence and existence are important parts of the prophecy and he is here because others believe in him and he is destined to fill up his role… But at the same time, the other part of him—the meanest, most self-deprecating side—tells Phainon that if he had died, then maybe the prophecy would have assigned someone better. Someone more competent.
Someone who wouldn’t hesitate about the Coreflame trial.
Someone who could feel he is worthy to bear the Strife—even more deserving and capable than the Kremnoan Heir.
Deep in thought, Phainon allowed his legs to lead him wherever… and as his thoughts arrive on Mydei, he finds himself in front of the door of the Kremnoan Prince’s chambers. A sigh and a grimace-like smile escape Phainon before he can control his expression (at least there is no one there to see) as it seems even his subconscious likes to play at his weaknesses without showing any mercy.
While being torn over his thoughts about the trial itself and whether or not he is worthy, Phainon’s heart also splits in half because of Mydei. Having spent so many hours being worried so much about the man he loves—because Phainon had seen Mydei die and he knows that no matter Mydei’s expressionless way of handling things, he does feel the pain—then later witnessing him as a bloodied mess as he has never been before…
If Phainon was worried earlier and he thought that feeling cannot be matched then his mind proves him wrong again.
The unknown of the capabilities and limits of Mydei’s healing—having seen some of his wounds shine with fresh-looking red wetness when the Kremnoan bid them farewell after they arrived back to Okhema—fills up Phainon’s heart with unease. Even though his conscious mind knows Mydei can’t die, the sheer idea that he had been pushed to a personal low and the tangible insecurity of this place and its possible meaning make Phainon’s heart tear and explode.
Mydei’s company, loving him, and receiving his love have been among the highlights of what happened to Phainon in the past years. Phainon has enough insight on Mydei (even though the Kremnoan doesn’t often say nor does he go into detail—but Phainon had learnt to read the subtleties where no more elaborative words come) that he knows with utter certainty: the visit to Castrum Kremnos, the defeat of Nikador, and the future of the Coreflame are between the most important and most personal things of Mydei’s whole life.
Phainon wishes—he desires it so badly—that he can find and see Mydei tonight. The sooner the better. Phainon wishes he can be there for him—if Mydei decides he needs Phainon.
Even the paradox of this idea makes Phainon smile as he sways on his feet from one side to the other in front of Mydei’s door. Phainon knows: Mydei can handle himself and he doesn’t need the support of anyone—let alone someone who can’t even trust himself. Someone lost in his own head, thinking too much about the past, questioning his integrity.
Yet Phainon wishes Mydei would allow himself to maybe be a little less strong and to just…
To just…
What even?
The realisation hits: Phainon doesn’t know. Mydei is the strongest person Phainon has ever met.
After a few prolonged inhales and exhales while Phainon tries to make at least a sublime order in the utter mess that his head is right now, he decides he will ‘just go’ and act as usual around Mydei as he otherwise does. The vivid images of the many bleeding wounds on the Kremnoan Heir fill up Phainon’s heart with unease and he almost slaps himself on the face—because how dare he think Mydei cannot handle himself and needs anything from him.
Making a temporary deal with himself that he knows he will (he only hopes he won’t) fail, Phainon musters the fake confidence about the upcoming Coreflame trial that he showed to the other Chrysos Heirs earlier. With a temporary clarity and his worries about himself pushed aside, Phainon quietly opens Mydei’s door and lets himself into the Kremnoan Heir’s private chambers.
Not knowing what to expect, and the last thing he wants being the accidental disturbance of Mydei’s peace, Phainon walks into the main room with the quietest steps he can muster. From here, spotting Mydei’s form in his bedroom or at the small bathing place can be easy without making any noise. Phainon almost feels he is sneaking as his footsteps are almost fully silent… and the sight that welcomes him makes him bless his decision in the next moment.
Under a light blanket, Mydei is asleep, lying on his bed—the sheer knowledge that he didn’t wake up (unlike any other time in the past where he always had) makes Phainon’s heart clench. For a fleeting second Phainon’s heart races as the past’s horror washes over him… then seeing the rise and fall of Mydei’s chest resolves the heavy weight that came to sit on Phainon’s chest, threatening to suffocate.
Feeling so utterly stupid and anger sparking in him—because how can he be so absurd to think this way—Phainon allows himself a few more seconds, and then he leaves Mydei’s chambers the same quiet way as he came.
Trying to reason with himself, Phainon decides perhaps all he needs is some fresh air to clear his head. (Phainon hates to admit it to himself, but maybe he is happy Mydei was asleep—looking as fine as one can while covered with a blanket—because he isn’t sure what he would have done if Mydei saw the uncontrolled fear creeping up deep in his veins, the terrors of the past still too livid inside.)