2.7.3

Lian still couldn’t believe Haku and Ven had spent all night fighting shadow beasts without waking the two mortals for help. Well, no, that wasn’t true. They would have expected that level of deception from Haku, but Ven didn’t seem the type. In any case, neither immortal had apologized, and so Lian had spent the whole morning marching silently in protest.

…Which maybe wasn’t achieving much.

Haku didn’t seem interested in making small talk, anyway, and Ven looked too tired to hold up a conversation on their own, so the group ended up walking in awkward silence. After four hours of this, Lian was starting to regret their choice. They were about to open their mouth to say something when suddenly, Ven stopped walking. Lian was so caught up in their thoughts that they bumped right into the immortal.

“Um,” Lian said slowly. “Is something wrong…?”

When Ven turned around, her eyes were full of murder. Lian’s breath caught in their throat.

“Is something wrong?” Ven mocked, taking a step towards the two mortals. “Is something wrong?” Golden flames began to flicker around Ven’s fingertips.

Haku cursed. Something’s messing with Ven’s mind. Stall while I find the source.

Something? What do you mean? Lian asked.

Aggro waves. Haku scrambled up the trunk of the nearest tree, and before Lian could ask for more information, the immortal was out of sight.

“Bastard,” Rae muttered. Lian was inclined to agree, just this once.

They gulped as they turned back to Ven. The immortal was fully shrouded in golden flames, now, and resting in their hands was a sleek golden crossbow. Lian felt a pang of ice-cold fear, and they weren’t sure if it was Ven’s powers working on them or an emotion of their own.

“I think we should all calm down,” Lian said slowly, extending a hand as if placating a wounded animal.

“Oh, I’m perfectly calm,” Ven said, their voice full of steel. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“There’s—there’s no reason to fight,” Lian stammered. “We’re on the same side.”

Ven let out a bitter laugh. “No reason to fight?” he said quietly. “No reason to fight?” When he turned to face Lian, his irises were glowing gold. “You dreamt about us for ten years and did nothing to help! That’s reason enough!”

“Wh—“ Lian stumbled back, startled by the sudden change in Ven’s demeanor.

“That’s not fair,” Rae protested. Xyr voice was laced with fear and anger. “We didn’t know where you were, and we didn’t even know you.”

“So what?” Ven said coldly. “We still don’t know you, and we followed you here anyway, knowing it would be hell!”

Lian gaped at Ven, their brain trying to process what that even meant, but fear and distress muddled their thoughts—so much so that they didn’t even notice the crossbow bolt coming towards them until it was inches from their face.

Rae reacted just in time, switching places with the bolt. On the plus side, this meant neither of the two were skewered by a crossbow bolt. On the downside, this meant Rae went flying into Lian along the arrow’s initial trajectory, knocking them both to the ground.

Sorry, Rae apologized. Xe sat up with a groan, rubbing the back of his skull. That was all I could think of.

Don’t worry about it, Lian mumbled in reply. Better than getting speared by a crossbow.

Ven shot three more crossbow bolts in quick succession. Lian scrambled to their feet and redirected the bolts with a wave of sound, flinching as the screech rang in their own ears. They barely had time to recover before a pulse of energy from Ven knocked them backwards, pinning them to a tree. Rae was similarly blown back, though xe disappeared in a blink mere seconds after the attack.

Lian! Rae yelled. I’m standing behind Ven right now. I’m going to switch with you, all right?

Okay, lawyer man! Lian shot back. No sooner had they spoken than they were suddenly standing behind Ven, just within arms reach. They clapped both hands over the immortal’s ears and willed soundwaves to travel into their fingertips, to the tune of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.”

The acrid fear in Lian’s throat immediately eased up as Ven’s concentration broke. Secretly, they were relieved, but that relief was replaced by dread at the realization that the fear had not been their own.

Ven darted out of Lian’s grasp, then launched a sphere of golden light at the music teacher. The attack connected, searing Lian’s skin through their shirt, and they went flying backwards. Lian braced themself for impact—but suddenly, they were standing at the edge of the clearing, and then Rae blipped into position next to them.

What the—

I switched with you, then switched with a rock, Rae explained. It felt better than letting you slam into a tree.

Well, jeez, Lian said with a grin. You keep saying you’re not meant for a fight, but you’re pretty good!

You, too, Rae said earnestly. Xe looked around, eyes narrowed. Lian, do you hear that?

Lian frowned in concentration as they focused on listening to the sounds of the forest. In between the chitter of birds and the moan of cicadas was a sound that was distinctly out of place: a low, electronic hum.

Oh, Lian said brightly. Do you think that sound is what’s making Ven do all this?

Rae shrugged in reply.

Lian turned to Ven, eyes shining with determination. All right! Can you distract Ven? I’m going to try to cancel out the noise—like I did in the prison.

Got it. Rae ran out from their position, yelling and waving xyr arms. That got Ven’s attention immediately, and as the immortal began to shoot glowing crossbow bolts at Rae, Lian closed their eyes. They inhaled deeply, focusing on that electronic hum, internalizing the sound. Once they’d figured out what the hum sounded like, they extended two hands and created a similar hum of their own, but on a different frequency.

The effect was immediate. Ven fell to their knees, and Rae breathed a sigh of relief as the barrage of golden crossbow bolts stopped. Lian looked warily at Ven. The immortal’s eyes were clenched shut, hands clamped over their ears, and gold and black flames flickered erratically around them. For a few minutes, Rae and Lian simply stared at Ven. A couple of times, Lian reached a hand towards Ven, then pulled back, too scared of getting burned.

After a while, a small boom echoed through the woods, followed by a crunching noise—the sound of something being destroyed. The electronic hum stopped altogether. Lian dispelled the sound they’d created with a sigh of relief.

The golden flames around Ven’s form faded. Ven stumbled back, eyes wide with horror, and for a second, they locked eyes with Lian. Then, the immortal turned to run.

Lian wasn’t sure what compelled them to grab Ven’s wrist. Maybe it was the abject horror on Ven’s face when he had realized what he’d done. Maybe it was the fact that Ven looked young enough to be one of Lian’s students. Maybe it was the ten years of shared dreams—of seeing Ven subject to method after method of inhumane torture. Or maybe it was that special connection Lian and Ven shared, of power giver and giftee.

Regardless, when the immortal tried to run, Lian stopped them.

“Wait!” Lian yelped. Ven tried to escape Lian’s grasp, but Lian tightened their grip. “It’s okay!”

“It’s not okay!” Ven cried. “You could have been hurt, or worse, killed, and it would’ve been my fault! And that doesn’t even cover all the things I said—”

“We’re not hurt,” Lian said quickly, gesturing to themself and then Rae. “Like, okay, my shirt is a little burnt, but nothing bad happened! And you—you didn’t mean any of the things you said—we know you didn’t!”

“That’s not—you don’t know that!” Ven said angrily. He pulled free from Lian’s grip, but made no further effort to run away. Lian considered that a win.

“Do you even know why I started acting that way?” Ven asked, her voice laced with distress. Lian and Rae exchanged glances. Ven seemed to take that as a no, because they continued. “It was—there’s traps in here that release mechanical waves that cause people to become combative and angry. But that’s—those waves only intensify pre-existing feelings!”

Lian swallowed. They knew where Ven was going with this.

“That means that some part of me—some awful, horrible, twisted part of me—really blamed you for not rescuing us sooner. Some part of me regretted making the decision to wait ten years after saddling you with powers you didn’t even ask for! And that—that’s—” Ven broke off, too distraught to even string words together.

“You went through some horrible things in there,” Lian said softly. They placed a hand on Ven’s back and guided the immortal into a sitting position. “It’s only natural that you would want to get out as soon as possible. And—and you know that those things you’re feeling are bad, so I think it’s probably okay.”

“It’s not,” Ven said bitterly. “But I appreciate the sentiment. Nothing you say will change the fact that I’m a horrible person.”

“You were holding back.” Haku’s voice rang through the clearing, and Lian jumped in surprise. They turned around to find the immortal leaning against a tree, cleaning their glasses. “I’ve seen you fight for real, Ven, and that was not it. Despite the influence of the aggression waves, some part of you still cared enough to hold back.”

Ven didn’t seem convinced. Lian decided to try changing topics.

“What did Ven mean—when he said you followed us here?” Lian asked, turning to Haku.

“I guess there’s no point in lying about it now,” Ven said miserably.

“It’s quite simple,” Haku said calmly. “The original trap that opened up Dimension X only ensnared nine people: the nine mortals I blackmailed into breaking us out of prison. When the nine of us noticed that The Necromancer had taken the nine of you into captivity, we followed.”

“Why?” Rae asked, arms crossed. “Why would you jump into hell for nine insignificant mortals?”

“After what we did to you?” Haku asked. “We owe you our lives. How could we possibly leave you to die?”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “I just wasn’t aware that you cared.”

Haku turned away. “I don’t.”

Lian frowned. They opened their mouth to argue—to say that yes, Haku did care—but Ven placed a hand on Lian’s arm, shaking their head.

Don’t bother, Ven said softly. They’ll never admit it. Her gaze was distant. Sometimes, it’s easier to deny it than to admit that you care about someone you’re going to outlive.

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