‘ The Essence of the Aether ’

by orphan_account

Summary:

In the realm of Aether, every soul is born with a fragment of raw power known as Essence—a mystical force that dictates ability, status, and destiny. From calling storms to healing wounds, magic flows through every layer of life.

But not all Essence is equal.

At the top stand the Celestials—Aether’s divine royalty, wielding unimaginable power. Beneath them are the Luminars, noble-born protectors of the realm and its legacy. The Mirians form the middle class, the common folk who keep Aether thriving. Glints live below, working thankless jobs, trapped in generational poverty.

And then there are the Nulls—those born without Essence. Feared, hated, and branded as cursed, Nulls are treated as outcasts with nothing to offer… and nothing to lose.

But what happens when a prince, born of gods, dares to grow close to one of these outcasts?

It’s forbidden. It’s unthinkable.
And yet… it begins.

Notes:

I might make art of EOTA!Lukas

Chapter 1

The morning sun filtered softly through the high, stained-glass windows of the Aetherian royal chambers, casting kaleidoscopic hues across the polished marble floors. A gentle yawn echoed through the stillness as a young figure stirred beneath an ornate canopy of silken drapes. The flowerborn prince, Lukas, blinked against the drowsy haze of sleep and stretched his pale, almost ethereal limbs with feline grace. His slender fingers combed through a curtain of golden-blonde hair, attempting to sweep it from his porcelain features. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet touched the cool hardwood floor, grounding him in the present. He sat for a moment, his blue-glowing strands catching in the morning light, before pushing himself to his feet.

 

Crossing the room with an air of casual elegance, Lukas approached the mirror carved from star-glass and framed in silver filigree. He picked up a brush and began taming the shining waterfall of hair. Yet a rebellious strand of glowing azure refused to fall in line, and with a sigh of resignation, Lukas shook his head, refocusing his efforts on perfecting the rest of his appearance.

 

A sharp knock knock knock interrupted his silent ritual.

 

Startled, Lukas turned toward the grand door just as it creaked open. There, in a radiant blend of blue, violet, and golden robes, stood a woman whose very presence was both commanding and comforting. Her skin was sun-kissed, her cropped purple hair a bold crown in itself—it was Queen Xara, the consort and guardian of the realm.

 

“Mum!” Lukas exclaimed, his eyes—deep cornflower-blue orbs of innocence and power—lighting up with joy. The prince nearly tripped in his haste, darting across the room to embrace her.

 

Xara enveloped him with maternal warmth, one hand gently brushing his hair back from his face in a rhythm only mothers knew.

 

“Hello, Petal,” she murmured, voice rich with affection. “Your dad and father await you in the dining hall. Don’t keep them waiting—today is not the day for tardiness.”

 

Lukas nodded eagerly. She placed a tender kiss upon his forehead, the moment lingering like the last note of a lullaby, before stepping back and disappearing down the hallway.

 

With a sigh, Lukas turned and quickly dressed. Today was unlike any other. For the first time, he would be permitted to step beyond the palace’s towering walls—under disguise, of course. His otherworldly features marked him as unmistakably royal: his albinism, the glowing threads in his hair, the radiant eyes. Each a beacon. Each a threat. And so, his family had prepared him for this day. He had been trained to veil his Essence, to manipulate his form, and to recognize danger.

 

The most immediate threats had names. PUMPKIN , the infamous cadre of assassins, was one such group—operatives under the chilling command of Cassie-Rose. Each of the five elite killers possessed a unique variation of Essence-Sense, granting them near-supernatural means to detect magic: Jordan could see an Essence. Stampy could taste it. Lizzie could hear it. Dan could smell it. Stacy could feel it.

 

And then, there had been Torque—the sixth. A phantom among them, enigmatic and unruly. He had vanished under mysterious circumstances, but it was widely believed that his fate had been sealed by his own volatility.

 

Yet, above them all loomed Cassie-Rose , a being of terrifying precision and power. She wielded all five senses, amplified beyond comprehension. She was not a hunter. She was the hunt itself . And for someone like Lukas—whose Essence shimmered like a beacon in the darkness—she was death incarnate.

 

And if PUMPKIN were the sword, then ADMIN was the throne that held the sword aloft. More than a mere council, ADMIN was an ancient triumvirate of authority—keepers of balance, watchers from beyond the Veil of Systems. They were regal in bearing, their power interwoven with the fabric of all Aetherian realms. It was they who had first decreed that Lukas must be shielded, his essence disguised, his form cloaked. It was said that when ADMIN spoke, even the stars listened. Their wisdom shaped kingdoms, and their silence brought fear.

 

Lukas descended the palace’s grand staircase with nervous anticipation, only to be gently halted by a tall, pale figure standing in his path. Romeo—his father, the Flame King—regarded him with measured concern. His hand rose, lifting Lukas’ chin with careful precision, inspecting the boy’s alabaster complexion.

 

“Be cautious, Iris,” he said, voice calm but firm. “We cannot risk harm befalling you.”

 

A kiss to his forehead followed, then Romeo turned gracefully on his heel.

 

“Come now.”

 

Lukas trailed behind, entering the majestic dining hall. Seated at the long table of crystal and darkwood were the rest of his family. Fred, his other father, beamed at him.

 

“Hello, Flower!” the jovial man greeted, lifting a hand in cheer.

 

“Hi Dad!” Lukas called back, slipping into his seat.

 

Queen Xara took her place beside Fred, and Romeo beside her. The mood shifted as all three turned to face Lukas. Their eyes bore the weight of their decision.

 

“Now, Iris,” Romeo began, his voice rich with gravity. “We know your heart yearns for the world beyond these gates. And we agree—you are ready.”

 

A brilliant gleam of gold danced in Lukas’ eyes. “Really!?”

 

Xara gave a solemn nod, and Fred echoed it.

 

“But…” Xara added, her tone soft but unyielding, “you must heed our conditions, Petal. This is not a realm of fairy tales. There are dangers out there—dangers who would relish the chance to unmake you.”

 

Romeo extended his hand, fire blooming in his palm like a lotus of flame. Within it, a crimson pendant formed—a vessel of power, pulsing with restrained energy.

 

“This amulet will anchor your disguise,” he explained. “Ten system hours. No more.”

 

Lukas accepted the pendant, and the moment it touched his skin, it flared with a sapphire brilliance before settling into a deep, reassuring red. Fire engulfed his form—but it did not burn. When the flames vanished, he stood transformed: his features softened, his hair darker, his eyes dulled. The prince had become unremarkable. Ordinary. Safe.

 

“You may go,” Romeo said, “but only within the inner districts. Avoid the Nulls. Always.”

 

He turned to Fred, who reached into his coat and produced a coin pouch.

 

“Credits,” Fred grinned. “Buy me some flowers, yeah?”

 

“Thanks, Dad!”

 

Xara rose, sweeping across the room to embrace her son once more.

 

“Be safe, my Petal. We love you.”

 

“I will, Mum. Love you too.”

 

Turning to the others, Lukas offered a final farewell.

 

“Bye Dad! Bye Father! Love you!”

 

“Love you too, Flower!” Fred beamed.

 

“Stay safe, my Iris,” Romeo added, his voice nearly a whisper.

 

And with that, Lukas bolted through the hall, through the palace gates, and out into a world that was finally—finally—his to explore!

 

 

Chapter 2: ‘ they could never nullify my love. ’

Summary:

Jesse wakes before dawn, sharing a rare moment of quiet affection with his uncle Ivor before venturing into the fractured streets of the Aether. Food is scarce in the outer districts, and Jesse knows he’ll have to cross dangerous lines to find anything better—maybe even risk the Divide.

A surprise encounter with Glint friends Axel and Olivia offers warmth, laughter, and concern—but nothing can stop Jesse once his mind is set. Armed with little more than a dull blade and defiance, he heads toward the heart of the realm, unaware that every step forward edges him closer to the power he’s been denied… and the danger that comes with it.

Notes:

EOTA!Jesse art at the end guys…

 

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Jesse was already awake when Ivor came to rouse him—though “awake” didn’t quite capture it. He was upright on the edge of their makeshift bed, blanket still wound around his ankles like vines, shoulders hunched slightly forward as if bracing for the cold world outside their door. He didn’t look at the candle first. He looked at his uncle.

 

The flickering flame bathed Ivor’s tired face in gold and shadow, the light catching in the single, fractured iris of Jesse’s green eye. It shimmered with that strange, subtle glow again—like something cracked open that had never truly healed. He blinked once, slow and steady, his gaze softening the second it met the older man’s.

 

“Morning, son,” Ivor said quietly, voice rasped by years of worn-out spells and sleepless nights. The way he said “son”—gentle, proud, without hesitation—always landed heavy in Jesse’s chest. Not by blood, but by choice. It meant more that way.

 

Jesse smiled, small but warm, and gave a half-hearted wave as he reached up and yanked his coat from the peg on the wall. The thing was huge on him—far too large for someone his size—but it was lined with soft wool, patched dozens of times with mismatched thread. It smelled faintly of dried herbs and candle smoke, the familiar musk of dusty tomes and boiled potions. It smelled like home.

 

“Morning,” Jesse echoed, tugging the collar up around his neck. “I’m heading out to find something to eat. Do you need me to do anything else while I’m out?”

 

Then, with a sly smile: “And no, not ‘a million credits.’”

 

Ivor snorted, folding his arms as he leaned into the crooked frame of the door. Candlelight danced across the creases of his face, carving shadows into his tired features—but there was amusement in his eyes, a boyish glint still buried in the man.

 

“Am I really that predictable?” he asked, lifting a brow.

 

Jesse crossed the warped wooden floor, the boards creaking beneath his worn-out boots, and threw his arms around Ivor’s middle with little warning. He buried his face in the man’s chest, inhaling the scent of stale potion ingredients and cold metal. The coat puffed outward from the sudden movement.

 

“Yes,” Jesse said simply, voice muffled by fabric. “You are.”

 

Ivor stilled for a moment. These hugs—unprompted, soft, rare—were always something he took time to cherish. His arms wrapped around the boy tightly, firmly, one hand on Jesse’s back, the other curling around the back of his head as though he could protect him just by holding on long enough. For a second, it felt like Jesse was still nine years old, tangled in dreams and nightmares.

 

“Stay safe, son,” Ivor murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Jesse’s head. “Don’t wander past the Divide. And if you see guards—”

 

“I know ,” Jesse cut in gently, pulling back with a small grin. “Act small, walk fast, don’t run.”

 

A sigh escaped Ivor’s chest, but his eyes softened with reluctant pride. “You’re getting too good at that.”

 

Jesse shrugged as he adjusted the sleeves. “We have to be good at something, right?”

 

He was halfway out the door before the rest of the sentence could settle. The hinges creaked, letting in the bitter grey air of morning. Mist clung low to the ground, curling around broken cobblestones and the rusted rail of a long-abandoned tramline. Jesse slipped into it like a ghost, his green eye flashing once before he was gone.

 

Ivor stood there a while, candle flickering behind him, and let the moment linger in the air like incense. Then he exhaled—slow and aching—and stepped back inside.

 

⸻

 

Jesse adored his uncle, truly. But love didn’t change the fact that they couldn’t live off the scraps that barely made it to the outer districts. He knew Ivor would never ask for more than he had, but Jesse couldn’t stop trying. Not when he still had two legs to carry him deeper into the city. Not when he still had hope that maybe today, he’d find something better.

 

The closer to the center—closer to the Divide and the palace beyond—the better the leftovers. Nobles tossed out food that could feed a Null family for days. You just had to know when to snatch it and where not to step.

 

Jesse reached into his pocket and pulled out a small butterfly knife, flipping it open with a sharp click-clack . It wasn’t anything fancy—just a salvaged blade with a charm etched into the hilt—but it was his. He kept it close. Not to start a fight, but to end one if he had to.

 

He slipped through alleys, the faint clamor of early-morning workers rising around him—men and women already hauling crates, sweeping gutters, or lining up for ration lines. Most were Glints, just like the ones who kept the whole of Aether’s infrastructure running on worn-out hands and bitter patience. They didn’t fear Nulls. Didn’t have the luxury to discriminate.

 

He ducked behind a crumbling wall and peeked out.

 

Two familiar figures passed just beyond the alley’s edge.

 

One was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a massive green coat and walking with the kind of lumbering weight that came from carrying crates your whole life. The other was shorter, quicker, her brown pigtails bouncing as she moved, eyes always scanning, always calculating.

 

Axel and Olivia.

 

A mischievous grin tugged at Jesse’s lips. He reached into his coat and pulled out a second dagger—this one duller, lighter. For fun.

 

He tossed it.

 

The knife flew through the air with absolutely no precision—intentionally sloppy—and Olivia, reflexes honed by a spark of Essence gifted to her in her youth, caught it mid-flight without even turning fully around.

 

She paused, frowning slightly. Then she smirked, her warm laugh echoing down the stone alley.

 

“Jesse!” she called, spinning on her heel. “You’re up early today. What’s the rush?”

 

Jesse emerged from the mist, hands tucked into his coat pockets, a sheepish but confident look on his face. Axel turned around briefly, nodded once in acknowledgment, and then went back to hoisting a crate like nothing had happened.

 

“I’m trying to get something better for Ivor. Might climb over the Divide,” Jesse replied.

 

Olivia froze.

 

The dagger slipped from her fingers and clattered loudly onto the ground.

 

“What?” she shrieked, rushing over and grabbing him by the arms, her eyes wide with panic. “Are you insane ? You’ll get yourself killed .”

 

Jesse laughed softly, shaking his head as he reached up and ruffled her hair.

 

“I’ll be fine, ‘Liv. Promise.”

 

He let his hand linger on her head a little longer, grounding her, then added with a grin, “And if I do die, you’re responsible for feeding my old man. Deal?”

 

She stared at him, flustered, then nodded reluctantly and let him go. She turned to Axel, who just muttered under his breath and lifted his chin.

 

“Stay safe, Jess,” Olivia said softly. “We love you.”

 

Axel, caught off guard, glanced over. “Oh! Yeah. We love you, man.”

 

Jesse smiled, turning to walk away.

 

“Love you too,” he called over his shoulder, waving a hand without looking back. “See you both later.”

 

And just like that, he disappeared into the morning fog, leaving his friends in the growing light of day. Olivia exhaled deeply, watching the spot he vanished from.

 

“Idiot,” she muttered, with all the fondness in the world.

 

Then she picked up the dagger and tucked it into her belt. Just in case he needed it back.

 

 

 

Chapter 3: ‘ some call it stalkin, i say walkin, just a little close behind. ’

Summary:

Lukas slips away from the castle for what should’ve been a harmless afternoon in the Inner Districts. The scent of bread, the sound of music, and the warmth of strangers all lull him into thinking the outside world might not be so dangerous after all. But every step forward takes him closer to the edge—the place where joy fades, and the Divide begins.

Unaware, Lukas crosses into a part of town ruled by silence and shadow. A red-haired stranger with a pistol and a knowing smile finds him first. Another figure waits beyond the border with a rifle and no patience for trespassers. Lukas thought he was walking into freedom. He was wrong.

Danger isn’t just waiting for him—it’s hunting.

Notes:

yaoi incoming next chapter…

 

Join the official EOTA discord!

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The young prince made his way from the door of the castle down to the inner districts—there was music playing, food could be smelt from miles! It was amazing. Lukas really didn’t get how his parents thought this was dangerous… it seemed fine to him.

 

Colorful banners fluttered in the breeze overhead, strung between tall, ivy-clad buildings that leaned in toward each other like old friends whispering secrets. The cobbled streets beneath his feet were warm from the sun, and lively with the shuffle of boots and the chatter of townsfolk. Somewhere, a fiddle was being played, and a group of children danced barefoot in a circle, laughing like the world was made just for them.

 

The boy held onto the strap of the bag slung at his side. His fingers traced the stitching—something familiar in this unfamiliar world. He walked up to a stall, selling fresh bread by the looks of it! Thick loaves were stacked in neat pyramids, steam still curling from their crusts. Lukas took a sniff, his stomach making an unhelpfully loud noise. That smell alone could melt any resolve.

 

“Um… hi! Could I get a loaf of bread, please?” he asked, trying to sound confident.

 

The man working looked at him with a touch of surprise, then cracked a grin, nodding his head.

 

“‘Course, kid. Gotta say, haven’t seen you around before. You from another area?”

 

Lukas shrugged, doing his best to seem casual. “Just visiting.”

 

He pulled out his little credit pouch and handed over 5 credits to the man. The man stared down at the coins in surprise, then let out a low whistle.

 

“Son, a loaf’s only a credit. Here, take ’em back. And always ask the price before buyin’—not all folk are as kind as me round here.”

 

Lukas flushed, quickly scooping four credits back into his pouch and muttering a soft “Thank you, sir.”

 

The bread was wrapped in a clean, papery cloth and handed to him. It was warm against his hands, soft but crusty in all the right places. He tucked it carefully into his bag and gave the vendor a sincere smile.

 

“Have a great day, sir!”

 

“You too, kid!” the man called back with a chuckle.

 

We need more people like that… Lukas thought, his heart warm as the bread he carried.

 

As he continued down the winding streets, the crowd thickened. A woman with a painted face offered him a flower from a basket—he accepted a small blue bloom and tucked it behind his ear. A juggler flipped flaming torches high into the air to the delight of a gathering audience, and Lukas couldn’t help but clap with the rest when the man bowed with a flourish.

 

He wandered into a shaded alley where a tabby cat watched him from a windowsill. Lukas paused, holding out a hand.

 

“Hey there, little guy.”

 

The cat blinked at him, then turned its head away with theatrical disinterest. Lukas grinned—still royal treatment, he supposed, just from a cat’s perspective.

 

He stumbled upon a tiny shop tucked between two larger buildings. Its sign read Clockwork & Curiosities , and the window was full of odd trinkets that whirred and ticked. Inside, it smelled like oil and lavender. An old woman stood behind the counter, her silver hair tied in a bun so tight it could have been spun wire.

 

“Looking for anything in particular?” she asked, not unkindly.

 

“Just browsing,” Lukas replied, stepping inside.

 

He marveled at the tiny machines—birds made of gears, spinning compasses, music boxes that played strange, haunting melodies. He didn’t buy anything, but the woman gave him a small brass coin with a sun engraved on one side and a moon on the other.

 

“For luck,” she said.

 

“Thanks,” Lukas said, unsure if she meant it or not.

 

The sun was beginning to dip now, casting long shadows through the narrow streets. Lukas sat on the edge of a fountain in the central square, nibbling at his bread. It was even better than it smelled. Around him, lanterns were being lit one by one, the town preparing for whatever evening celebration seemed to be brewing.

 

He watched people pass—laughing, dancing, living—and felt something stir in his chest. It wasn’t quite homesickness. It wasn’t quite freedom. It was something in between.

 

“Dangerous?” he whispered to himself, smiling. “This is the best day I’ve ever had.”

 

And with that, Lukas stood, brushed crumbs from his lap, and wandered deeper into the heart of the town, the glow of lanterns guiding his way.

 

———

 

Truth be told, that was a serious mistake.

 

Going deeper into town meant going closer to the edge. Closer to the place people didn’t talk about—not loudly, not often. The border where the lights dimmed and even the guards stopped patrolling. The Divide.

 

Every Mirian knew not to wander there after dusk. Stories whispered of places where even the stars blinked out. Of shapes in the dark with eyes like lanterns. Of people—twisted or hollowed—who didn’t come back the same.

 

Lukas didn’t know.

 

He was just following the sound of a windchime in the distance, unaware that every step was a step deeper into the tiger’s den. The scent of fresh bread still lingered faintly from his satchel, but now it seemed too loud, too warm in a place like this.

 

He clutched his bag tighter, his boots now silent against the dirt path. The street was empty. Not a single laugh or footstep, not even a barking dog. Only the hush of the wind.

 

Then… a sensation. A pressure. Like being watched by something ancient and buried.

 

He slowed.

 

Behind him, someone was walking. Bare steps—soft, deliberate. Lukas didn’t look back. Something in his body screamed not to.

 

The figure was a blur in his peripheral vision. She didn’t approach fast—she didn’t have to. Her presence alone slowed the air around them, like a weight had settled over the street.

 

Lukas took another step forward.

 

Click.

 

The cold muzzle of a pistol pressed gently to the back of his head. Not rough. Just… final.

 

His breath caught in his throat. His legs locked. His heart slammed against his ribs like a trapped bird.

 

He didn’t even hear her approach.

 

“…!”

 

“Hmm. Look at you.”

Her voice was calm, smooth. Lazy, almost. She was enjoying this.

 

“Hey, pretty boy.”

 

She moved around him, her steps almost floating, like the shadows carried her forward. Her pistol stayed trained on his forehead, close enough for him to smell the metal.

 

She was red-haired. Freckles like blood splatter across pale skin. No expression. Just calculation in her eyes, deep and hollow like someone who’d seen too much and forgotten half of it.

 

“What’s someone like you doing down here, hmm?” she asked, almost in a whisper. “Carrying that kind of energy around like it’s candy. Don’t you know what lives down here?”

 

Lukas didn’t speak. Couldn’t. He’d hidden his essence. Used the wards. He knew they worked—he’d tested them himself.

 

She smirked, tilting her head.

 

“Gotta say, clever trick. Muting your aura? That’s not something street rats can do. So… who are you really?”

 

Lukas inhaled—once, sharply—then tried again. And again.

 

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

 

That was when—

 

BANG!

 

The air shattered as a bullet tore through the quiet, whizzing right past her head. She ducked low, twisting her body and pivoting on one heel, eyes scanning the rooftops.

 

“Coward,” she hissed.

 

Lukas didn’t wait. He ran.

 

Boots thudding against cracked stone, breath ragged, lungs burning. He didn’t look back, didn’t think. Just ran.

 

Another shot cracked through the night.

 

Bang!

 

Sparks exploded off the ground to his left. Then another, closer.

 

Bang!

 

Was she shooting at him now? Or someone else? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The Divide was ahead. All he saw was a sign as he passed it, barely able to process it through the panic.

 

NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL – THE DIVIDE

 

His breath caught again. He was there. The stories. The warnings. It hit him all at once, like a wall.

 

He was so, so dead.

 

“Hey there, son,” a voice drawled ahead of him. Not hers. This one was deeper. Older. Tired.

 

He skidded to a halt. A man stepped from the shadows, long coat flapping, rifle slung casually at his side.

 

“What’s a stranger like you doing near the Divide?”

 

Lukas’s hands trembled. He turned slowly, trying not to provoke.

 

The man’s eyes didn’t blink. “I ain’t gonna ask again.”

 

Lukas ran again—this time deeper into the dark.

 

BANG!

 

Lukas collapsed to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

Fanart is always appreciated<3

My @ on all socials is @jesskasl0vr69!

Chapter 4: ‘ the red means “ i love you ” ! ’

Summary:

Perched on the crumbling wall called The Divide, Jesse doesn’t expect to end his day with a bullet wound and a boy in his arms. Lukas shouldn’t be on this side of the border—no one from the Inner is. But when Jesse saves him from a brutal Divide Guard, everything changes. As blood dries and truths unravel, the wall between their worlds might not be the only thing starting to crack.

 

TW :: Gun violence , Knife Violence , Blood/Injury Description , Minor character death

Notes:

CHAPTER 4… yes yes i’m spam posting these i can’t help it.

returning to my other fics for a bit after this chapter tho <\3

https://discord.gg/UbJ3UHsdNZ <— join the discord !!!

The man with wild brown hair perched atop the crumbling stone wall known only as The Divide. A towering, cracked relic of old wars and new boundaries, it stretched endlessly in either direction, a physical scar between two fractured worlds: the Inner and the Outer Districts. No one crossed it without permission. Not unless they had nothing to lose.

 

Jesse flipped a butterfly knife through his fingers, the blade glinting in the dying sunlight. The motion was smooth, practiced. Comforting, even. He wasn’t supposed to be up here, but that never stopped him. Rules were just stories told by people with power—and Jesse had long stopped listening.

 

Then—

 

“ACK—GET OFF OF ME!”

 

The scream cut sharp through the silence.

 

Jesse’s head snapped toward the noise, his instincts lighting up like a firestorm. Someone was in trouble on the other side. Another Null? Maybe a Glint? He didn’t know. But his body moved before his mind caught up.

 

He dropped from the wall in a fluid leap, the worn leather of his boots crunching against dirt and scattered leaves. One of his green suspenders slipped from his shoulder as he landed. The air here was too clean. It always smelled fake this close to the Inner.

 

Ahead, a Divide Guard was pinning someone to the ground—a boy, young and blonde, fighting back with the flailing limbs of someone who knew they didn’t stand a chance. The boy looked scared, his face pale and streaked with dirt.

 

Jesse didn’t recognize him.

 

That alone was strange.

 

The guard looked up just as Jesse approached, alerted by the sound of boots in the brush. His pistol came up fast.

 

“You—halt!”

 

But Jesse didn’t stop.

 

A gunshot cracked. Pain bloomed in his side as the bullet tore across his ribs, slicing skin and burning flesh.

 

He hissed through his teeth but kept moving.

 

In one swift motion, Jesse ducked under the aim of the pistol, sweeping the guard’s legs out from beneath him. The man toppled hard. The weapon clattered to the ground. Jesse pounced before the man could reach it, plunging his knife deep into his chest. Blood sprayed. The man twitched.

 

Jesse grabbed the gun, cold and slick with blood, and fired once—then again—into the guard’s skull.

 

 

art by @remipede on discord <3

 

 

 

 

 

 

Silence returned, broken only by Jesse’s ragged breaths. He staggered back, hand pressed against his bleeding side.

 

Then he turned to the blonde.

 

The boy hadn’t moved, frozen in place like a deer in torchlight. His eyes were locked on Jesse—not in fear, but in something closer to shock. Or maybe awe.

 

Jesse moved toward him slowly, blood dripping down his side. He knelt down, wincing from the pain, and gently lifted the boy’s chin to check for injuries. His fingers were calloused and bloodstained, but his touch was careful.

 

Lukas shivered at the contact. His throat felt tight. Up close, Jesse looked unreal—sharp angles, dark lashes, those strange, too-bright green eyes with that pale slice running through the middle. Like a fracture in glass.

 

He smelled like blood and earth and steel.

 

But then Jesse inhaled again—and paused.

 

His brow furrowed.

 

“You smell like…” He leaned in, nose twitching slightly, eyes narrowing with confusion. “Is that… bread?”

 

Lukas blinked. “W-what?”

 

“And spices. Fresh stuff. You’ve been around food—real food. Not synth-paste.” Jesse tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable for a second. “You from the inner Inner?”

 

Lukas nodded slowly, unsure of what to say.

 

Jesse sat back, his hand pressing harder into his wound as blood seeped between his fingers. “Tch… That explains it.”

 

“Explains what?” Lukas asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Why you smell like comfort,” Jesse said, almost under his breath. He looked tired now. “It’s been years since I’ve smelled anything like that.”

 

Lukas didn’t know what to say. He looked down, cheeks warming. Why did that feel like a compliment?

 

Jesse glanced down at his leg. “You’re not walking on that. And I’m not bleeding out for someone who’s gonna pass out halfway to the wall.” He stood with effort, breathing through the pain. “I’m taking you to my place. My old man’s a decent healer.”

 

Lukas blinked. “What? No—no, I can’t cross the Divide, I—”

 

But Jesse had already crouched and slid an arm around Lukas’ back, lifting him with surprising ease.

 

“Wow,” Lukas muttered involuntarily. “You’re strong…”

 

“You have to be,” Jesse said, his voice quieter now. “Where I’m from.”

 

As Lukas settled awkwardly in his arms, he felt Jesse’s warmth against him. Despite the blood, despite the pain and the danger, Lukas didn’t feel afraid anymore. His heart beat fast—but it wasn’t fear. Not really.

 

It was something else.

 

Closer. Quieter.

 

“You got any healing potions?” Jesse asked.

 

Lukas shook his head. “Can’t I just use Essence?”

 

Jesse gave a short laugh, careful not to jostle him. “Only if you want to attract every nightmare from here to the Spine. Essence lights you up like a beacon. Not smart out here.”

 

Lukas stiffened slightly. He hadn’t known that. Jesse noticed.

 

“Relax. You’re with me now,” he said, adjusting Lukas gently on his back. “Let’s get you patched up. Then I’ll get you home.”

 

“…Okay,” Lukas murmured.

 

Truth was, he couldn’t walk even if he wanted to. But part of him didn’t want to leave—not yet. Not while Jesse was holding him like this. Not while the scent of smoke and blood and wild freedom clung to his clothes.

 

Jesse crouched low and picked him up properly, Lukas’ arms hesitating before wrapping softly around his neck. He rested his chin on Jesse’s shoulder without thinking.

 

“Let’s go, blondie,” Jesse said, almost smiling.

 

And they disappeared into the fading woods beyond the Divide—one bleeding, one broken, both carrying something they didn’t quite understand yet.

Notes:

NIHIL UR SO GOATED MY BRO. IM INLOVE W THE ART <333

Chapter 5: ‘ held like a precious flower ‘

Summary:

Jesse carried Lukas through the haunted forest with startling ease—like he’d done it a hundred times, like Lukas was worth the risk. Injured and bleeding, Lukas finds unexpected comfort in the arms of a stranger who treats him with gentle, impossible care.

As the adrenaline fades and they reach the safety of Jesse’s secluded cottage, something quiet and tender begins to bloom between them. A fragile sense of safety. And in the flickering firelight, two strangers begin to unravel more than knots.

Notes:

i didn’t forget to post this i PROMISE.

pride month fic soon omg !!

join eota discord for sneak peaks!!!

https://discord.gg/UbJ3UHsdNZ

Climbing over the Divide should’ve been impossible—or at least, risky enough to scare most away. But the man carrying Lukas moved with calm certainty, as if this crumbling, haunted stretch of forest was a familiar back alley. The way he ducked through brambles and scaled the ruined wall, all while cradling another human being in his arms, was almost graceful.

Lukas blinked drowsily, weak from the blood loss and the crashing adrenaline comedown. Still, he noticed it. Every movement. Every breath. Every time Jesse adjusted his hold around Lukas’ legs or readjusted his arm beneath his back with care—like Lukas was something delicate, breakable, worth the trouble.

He didn’t understand it. Why would a stranger risk so much for him?

And yet, curled up tighter in Jesse’s arms, Lukas allowed himself the smallest indulgence of comfort. He tucked his face into the warm space between Jesse’s shoulder and neck, where the man’s scent lingered—faintly herbal, like dried mint and pine sap, with the earthiness of sweat and forest dirt. It was grounding. His hand, pressed lightly against Jesse’s chest, rose and fell with each breath. The beat of his heart was loud, a steady thrum beneath calloused skin.

The rhythm was soothing—but it was also something more. Something unfamiliar. Twisting in his stomach, but not in a bad way. Not fear. Something warmer. Softer. And it scared him.

Jesse, meanwhile, was desperately trying not to think too hard. He focused on the path ahead, the safest route back to the cottage, choosing thickly wooded areas over open trails. The fewer people who saw them, the better. Especially now—with Lukas clinging to him like this. He could feel the warmth of the boy’s breath against his collarbone, the softness of Lukas’ hand spread over his chest, fingertips barely curled in.

His face was burning, but he blamed it on the effort of walking, on the weight in his arms, on anything but what it really was.

He risked a glance down.

Lukas was… beautiful.

It startled him. Up close, the boy’s features were nearly ethereal—porcelain skin, kissed gold by the sun, and hair so pale it shimmered where the light caught it. But it was his eyes that struck Jesse most when they briefly opened—startling, ocean-blue, rimmed in red from exhaustion but still so vivid, so open. Everything about Lukas screamed Inner District. Not just in appearance, but in something softer—something Jesse couldn’t quite name. Fragility, maybe. Or untouchedness.

And yet, he hadn’t hesitated when Jesse offered to carry him.

Jesse looked away again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He shouldn’t be thinking this way. The boy was hurt. Vulnerable. A stranger. He had no right.

Still… he didn’t stop holding him like something precious.

Lukas shifted slightly, blinking up at Jesse through half-lidded eyes. He studied him with that same curious intensity Jesse had just used.

He hadn’t gotten a proper look before. Not really. Everything had happened so fast—gunshots, running, pain. But now, up close, Lukas took in the deep brown hue of Jesse’s skin, the way his collarbone rose and fell beneath the ripped fabric of his shirt. His eyes wandered to Jesse’s face, to the messy strands of dark brown hair escaping from a loose tie, to the faded bruises and scars that traced his jaw like old stories.

Then his eyes caught on something strange.

One of Jesse’s eyes wasn’t like the other.

The right was brown, warm and alert. But the left? Pale green, with a slash of white splitting through the iris. Almost like cracked glass—or lightning caught in a jar.

It was beautiful.

Lukas stared too long, realized it too late, and abruptly averted his gaze. His eyes landed on Jesse’s neck instead—more scars, a faint shadow of stubble, tension in his throat as he swallowed hard. Lukas closed his eyes before he could embarrass himself further, trying to quiet the fluttering in his chest.

Soon, the gentle rocking motion of Jesse’s gait lulled him into sleep.

Jesse noticed the change immediately. The sudden weight, the way Lukas’ head lolled softly against his chest. His lips parted slightly, breathing deep and slow.

Jesse tightened his hold instinctively.

As they reached the old cottage nestled in the shadow of the trees, Jesse hesitated. He didn’t want to jostle the boy in his arms, didn’t want to disturb whatever strange peace had settled between them.

He leaned against the front door, fumbling with the latch, careful not to let Lukas slip. The wood creaked softly as he nudged the door open with his foot.

“I’m home,” he called softly, breath catching in his throat.

A figure in patchworked green robes appeared instantly—his uncle, Ivor. His brow furrowed at the sight of Jesse, his eyes locking onto the limp body in his nephew’s arms.

“Jesse! Who—who is that?”

Jesse chuckled breathlessly, sidestepping past the flustered man and heading for the sagging couch that had long since become the heart of their cottage.

“His name’s Lukas. I found him out close to the Divide. Was getting the crap beaten out of him by some guard on a power trip.” He sat down slowly, easing Lukas onto the cushions like he might break.

Ivor frowned. “You shouldn’t have been so close to the divide.”

Ivor’s eyes immediately sharpened when he spotted the dried blood on Jesse’s shirt. He knelt beside his nephew, inspecting the fabric with alarm.

“Are you wounded?”

Jesse lifted the edge of his shirt—and paused. The wound was gone. He blinked.

“Huh…”

[ .. “How did I heal so fast? Was it Lukas?” .. ]

Barely a scar remained.

He let the shirt fall back down.

“He needs healing though. His leg’s messed up. I carried him the whole way.”

“I’ll brew something,” Ivor nodded, already heading to the workroom. “Give me an hour.”

Lukas stirred, shifting groggily as his consciousness returned in pieces. The soft cushion beneath him, the warm arm still cradling his back, the scent of pine and smoke—it all felt… safe. He blinked his eyes open slowly, met by the soft firelight flickering against the cottage walls.

He tilted his head slightly—and realized he was still tucked up against Jesse. His head had somehow nestled into the crook of Jesse’s shoulder, his fingers still curled gently into the fabric of Jesse’s shirt.

Jesse looked down, blinking once as their eyes met.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, voice husky from silence.

Lukas nodded, slowly easing himself upright. “Where…?”

“You’re in my home,” Jesse explained. “My Pa’s making you a potion for your leg.”

The blonde gave a slow, grateful nod. “Thanks, Jesse.”

There was a pause—quiet, not uncomfortable, but full of something else. Something quieter. Shyer.

Lukas fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, cheeks dusted pink. His eyes flicked toward Jesse—who had now let his long hair down, the dark brown curls framing his face in soft, tangled waves. It was a mess from the forest, full of little knots and the occasional stubborn leaf.

Jesse noticed Lukas looking again—this time without teasing. His hand came up to push his hair over one shoulder, a little self-conscious.

“It’s a wreck, huh?” Jesse muttered with a small, sheepish smile. “Haven’t had time to brush it out since… well. A while.”

Lukas started to open his mouth—then shut it again. Then looked down. Then back at Jesse.

Jesse hesitated. Then softly, almost playfully:
“…Wanna brush it?”

Lukas blinked. “Wait—me?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said, clearing his throat as if trying to sound casual, but failing adorably. “I dunno. You’ve got, like, careful hands. And you keep looking at it.”

“I wasn’t—!” Lukas protested, then gave up with a small, embarrassed laugh. “…Okay, maybe I was.”

Jesse chuckled and reached for a wooden-handled brush from a nearby shelf. It was old, but clean, worn smooth from years of use. He offered it out with one hand, eyes warm but unreadable.

“You don’t have to,” he added. “Just thought… maybe it’d help you relax. Or me.”

Lukas took the brush slowly, biting his lip to contain the dumb grin trying to surface. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

Without another word, Jesse shifted on the floor and sat between Lukas’s legs, cross-legged and facing away. Lukas’s heart did a very unfair somersault.

His fingers hovered over Jesse’s curls for a moment before he began, gently brushing from the roots down, slowly working through the mess. Jesse’s shoulders softened beneath the motion.

“Mmm,” he hummed under his breath. “That actually feels… really nice.”

Lukas smiled quietly to himself. “Good.”

They settled into silence, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. Lukas focused on brushing through the tangles, careful not to tug. His fingers followed behind the bristles now and then, separating knots with a tenderness he didn’t fully understand.

Jesse let himself lean back a little.

Then a little more.

Until, almost without meaning to, he leaned fully into Lukas’s lap—head resting softly against the blonde’s thigh, his whole posture slack with trust.

Lukas froze for half a second, heart thudding against his ribs, his whole body alert like a deer in tall grass.

But Jesse didn’t move again. Just sighed, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“You okay?” Lukas asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Jesse mumbled. “Just… comfy.”

Lukas’s face turned a brilliant shade of red. He kept brushing, fingers gentler now, more delicate. Every so often, he caught a particularly stubborn knot and took his time easing it free, afraid to hurt him.

Jesse’s breath slowed. He was warm—far too warm—and the steady rhythm of Lukas’s touch lulled him into something between sleep and stillness.

Lukas ran his fingers through the dark curls now, not brushing so much as playing. Twisting one soft strand around his finger, then letting it go. Again. Again.

“…Your hair’s nice,” he said quietly, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

Jesse let out a sleepy laugh. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low and warm. “No one’s ever said that before.”

“Really?” Lukas frowned slightly. “They should’ve.”

Another pause. Lukas’s thumb brushed gently across Jesse’s temple as he adjusted a curl.

“…Hey, Lukas?” Jesse murmured, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“You mind if I sleep?”

Lukas smiled down at him, his free hand already resting lightly on the side of Jesse’s head. “You don’t need to ask.”

Jesse shifted slightly between Lukas’s legs, his body warm and relaxed against the blonde’s thighs. His head rested back, angled just enough for Lukas to brush through the tangled curls now settling into a gentler wave beneath his careful work.

Lukas moved the brush through another thick section, careful with every pass. His fingers occasionally combed through where the bristles didn’t reach, taking extra care to be gentle. He was so focused on being delicate that the next knot took him by surprise.

He tugged—just slightly harder than intended.

“—Hhhuh!”

Jesse let out a sound. It wasn’t a groan or a grunt—it was almost a whimper. Short, breathy, and absolutely pathetic.

Lukas froze.

His entire body went rigid.

Jesse’s head remained in his lap, unmoving, but the sound echoed in Lukas’s head like a shout. The boy’s cheeks burned instantly, heat crawling up his neck to his ears like fire had ignited beneath his skin.

“I—I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, voice cracking slightly as he dropped the brush in panic. “I didn’t mean to—!”

Jesse cracked one eye open lazily from his place against Lukas’s legs, still curled comfortably. He looked up at him, utterly unbothered—except for the slightly pink hue rising on his cheeks now, too.

“You’re fine,” Jesse mumbled, his voice raspy, quiet. “Just… caught me off guard.”

Lukas, meanwhile, looked like he was about to melt through the floorboards. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure if he should continue brushing, apologize again, or dig his own grave out back.

“I didn’t think it would—like—hurt, or anything,” Lukas tried again, flustered beyond saving. “It was just a knot—there’s a knot, and I wasn’t thinking, and—”

“Lukas,” Jesse said, barely above a whisper.

He blinked, meeting those mismatched eyes.

“It’s okay.”

There was something soft in the way Jesse said it—safe, even. And that didn’t help the fact that Lukas’s heart was now pounding like a war drum in his chest.

He nodded, wordless, and reached for the brush again with trembling fingers.

This time, he moved slower. Gentler. His thumb brushed along Jesse’s scalp without thinking, offering the smallest bit of apology he could manage through touch. Jesse didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned into it slightly.

Lukas bit his lip.

He couldn’t stop hearing the sound Jesse had made. Couldn’t stop the loop playing in his head. It was too real, too raw, too vulnerable in a way that short-circuited his entire brain.

Gods, why was that so cute?

And why did it make something flip sideways in his chest?

Jesse, oblivious—or mercifully pretending to be—settled back into his lap with a tiny, contented sigh.

Lukas resumed brushing.

But this time, he was even redder than before.

And Jesse?

Well, he smirked ever so faintly to himself—because maybe he wasn’t entirely asleep after all.

The fire crackled softly nearby, the scent of herbs brewing in the next room drifting through the air. And in the quiet of that small cottage, tangled in each other without quite knowing how or why, they both fell asleep.

Safe.

Held.

And—for the first time in a long while—content.