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Cyno knew well that the desert was unforgiving.
Besides the scorching heat and blinding sun rays, danger lurked in the desert’s many relics. Most of them were buried in sand and rock, but some stood against the erosion of time—Deshret’s Mausoleum was a clear example of that, as were the Dunes and temples jutting from the landscape. But some ruins were less obvious, more hidden in the shadowed crags of the Hypostyle, and far more dangerous.
When Cyno and Alhaitham chased a fleeing group of mercenaries to a doorway carved into the depths of a red mountain, a bad feeling settled in Cyno’s stomach. It wasn’t wise to follow a target into unfamiliar terrain. But turning away meant losing their lead: a loose thread from the sages’ attempt to harvest the minds of the Village Keepers.
Lumine and Dehya were with Rahman on the other side of the desert. Alhaitham and Cyno had been entrusted with finding these rogues. Cyno did not leave jobs unfinished.
Alhaitham seemed to feel the same way, because he followed Cyno and the mercenaries through the door without hesitation.
“Don’t think I’m turning away now, General,” he said as they ran beside one another. His ability to annoy Cyno truly never waned.
“It’s not too late,” Cyno said. “You can run to the others and call for assistance.”
“So you’re admitting you can’t take these Eremites on your own?”
“I mean that I don’t need your help pursuing them.”
“How about we focus less on arguing and more on running?”
Cyno growled and pressed onward.
Torches ran along the stone walls surrounding them. Old ruins repurposed for black market trading, Cyno wagered. Ahead of them, the harried sounds of fleeing mercenaries echoed through the hall. Cyno and Alhaitham weren’t far behind.
In truth, Cyno was mildly impressed that Alhaitham was keeping up with him. There were few who could. But it would do them both good if they could end this chase sooner rather than later.
Cyno shot forward with his staff. Electricity crackled through him, throwing purple light against the walls.
Alarmed yelling erupted further down the hall.
“Be mindful of the fact that we’re underground,” Alhaitham called from behind. “It won’t do us any good if you collapse these ruins on us.”
Cyno rolled his eyes.
Ahead was more torch light. A chamber, perhaps. Good. More room for Cyno to let the spirit within him burst forth and force the mercenaries into submission.
Except, upon entering the room—rounded, with stone pillars stretching from floor to ceiling—he didn’t find a group of cowering mercenaries with their weapons drawn. Just one man, standing at the room’s exit that led into another hallway. Cyno could hear the clamor of the rest of them fleeing.
The man had a crossbow in his hands.
He aimed it at a stack of explosive barrels.
Cyno stopped hard on his heels. “Wait!” he cried and threw an arm out in front of Alhaitham.
“Long live the Scarlet King,” the mercenary said, and loosed a crossbow bolt.
Fire.
When Cyno came to, that was all he remembered. He was lying flat on the ground and his ears were ringing. He opened his mouth to breathe and found it full of dust. He coughed hard, then managed to wheeze in one breath, two.
Gingerly, he sat up and glanced around. The room was destroyed. All around him were the remains of collapsed pillars and chunks of rock from the walls and ceiling. Some glowing embers from the fire remained, providing the barest of light sources. Just enough for Cyno to get a sense of his surroundings, and for him to see—
“Alhaitham,” Cyno breathed, and hurried to the man slumped against a wall.
“So you’re not dead,” Alhaitham said when Cyno crouched down beside him. “That’s good.”
His hands were pressed against his side. Blood leaked between his fingers.
Cyno immediately pulled his pouch of medical supplies from his belt. “Were you stabbed? Is there anything in the wound?”
“It was shrapnel from the blast. Parts of a barrel maybe, who knows.” Alhaitham squeezed his eyes shut. “Something hit my head as well. Gods.”
“Don’t move, then. If you have a concussion, you don’t want to worsen it.”
“I don’t believe I’m moving anywhere at this precise moment.”
Cyno dug through his sparse medical supplies, blinking away sweat that fell into his eyes. He willed his hands to stay steady. Steadiness was crucial here. He’d trained for this.
“I need you to move your hands,” Cyno said.
Alhaitham stiffened, then nodded. He took one long breath, then lifted his hands away from the wound, hissing as he did so.
Cyno examined it. “Nothing in the wound. It looks like it didn’t pierce your side, only cut it.”
“Oh, is that all?” Alhaitham drawled.
Cyno found a vial in his pouch. It was full of a shimmery, green liquid. An old gift from Tighnari, who knew well that Cyno worked alone and traveled into the most remote stretches of Sumeru. Just take it as a precaution, he’d said. For my peace of mind, if not yours.
Cyno never expected he’d need to use it on someone else.
“I don’t know if this will hurt,” Cyno admitted, uncorking the vial, “but it will help.”
“Dare I ask what that is?” Alhaitham said. “Or where you got it?”
“It’s from a Forest Ranger. Now squeeze my shoulder if it hurts.”
“I certainly won’t—”
Cyno poured the contents of the vial into Alhaitham’s wound.
Alhaitham grunted, and his hand flew to Cyno’s shoulder. His fingers curled and dug into the muscle there, but Cyno endured it.
The bleeding slowed. The flesh started to mend together. Cyno watched in fascination—it didn’t completely heal, but Alhaitham might not even need stitches if they managed to make it back to Aaru Village. But he definitely needed bandages, so Cyno pulled out a roll of them along with some scraps of cotton fabric to cover the wound.
Alhaitham was quiet while Cyno worked.
“You didn’t save any of that for yourself,” he said.
Cyno paused and looked up from the bandages he had been winding around Alhaitham’s middle. “What?”
“The potion.”
“I’m fine,” Cyno said, then finished securing the bandages. “Somehow the blast didn’t hit me, I suppose.”
Alhaitham made a soft noise, almost a scoff but not quite the same. He lifted his hand from Cyno’s shoulder, leaving a bloody handprint there, and reached up towards Cyno’s face. He ran his thumb along Cyno’s brow.
Cyno hissed at a sudden sting of pain.
Oh. So that wasn’t sweat he’d been blinking away.
“They say nothing escapes the General Mahamatra’s notice,” Alhaitham murmured.
He hadn’t realized, he’d been too preoccupied with—
“It’s nothing,” Cyno said brusquely. He turned away from Alhaitham’s touch and focused instead on shoving everything back into his medical pouch. It suddenly felt two degrees warmer in this room. “At least now you won't bleed out in here.”
“Indeed,” Alhaitham said.
“How’s your head?”
“Pounding.” Alhaitham pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Do you remember where we are and what happened?”
“The Hypostyle, northwestern part. And we were chasing those damned mercenaries down here. We thought they were in contact with someone working for the sages and were trying to apprehend them.”
Cyno nodded. “Good. But we still don’t know for sure if you have a concussion, so stay still until we can get help.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Alhaitham asked.
A valid question, one that Cyno wished he had a prepared answer for. Truthfully, their prospects were grim. The room only had two exits: the one he and Alhaitham had entered from, and the one the mercenaries had escaped through. Both of them were covered in rubble. Breaking through the collapsed rock wouldn’t be difficult with the power of his Vision, but it came with the risk of bringing down what little remained of this underground structure.
“I’ll figure something out,” Cyno said.
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Alhaitham must have been tired—even his biting sarcasm wasn’t up to its usual standard. He carefully leaned his head back against the wall. “If nothing else, we did agree to meet up with the others in the evening. Hopefully our absence will alert them.”
“You need medical attention sooner than that.”
“Please, I’m not dying in this gods forsaken cave,” Alhaitham said. He shut his eyes. His face was pale.
“Hey, stay awake,” Cyno said. “You need to keep your eyes open.”
“Calm down, I can rest my eyes, can’t I?”
“I’m serious. Don’t fall asleep.”
Alhaitham sighed, but ultimately opened his eyes. “Fine. Speak, then.”
“What?”
“Talk. It’ll help keep my mind off this headache, at the very least.”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Cyno frowned, thinking. “Well… Do you care for jokes at all?”
Alhaitham stared. “Jokes?”
“There is one I know that goes like this: Once there was a scholar studying a spider’s ability to obey commands. He had taught the spider to walk whenever he spoke the word ‘walk.’ And to further examine the extent to which the spider would listen to commands, he tried removing one of its legs.”
Alhaitham continued to stare, but now with a morbidly curious expression.
Cyno continued, “The scholar removed a leg, then told the spider to walk. The spider did so. And it continued to do so even as the scholar removed each of its legs, until it no longer had any legs left. Now when the scholar told the spider to walk, what did it do?”
“I imagine it did nothing,” Alhaitham said.
“Correct. The spider did not walk at all. And what the scholar concluded from his findings was this: ‘When a spider’s legs are all removed…’” Cyno paused for effect, “‘... the spider loses its hearing.’”
Silence.
Alhaitham’s expression was carefully blank.
Cyno said, “Let me explain. You see, the scholar thought the spider lost its hearing because it didn’t walk on his command, when in fact the spider did not walk because—”
“Yes, I’m aware of the punchline.” Alhaitham covered his face with one hand.
Cyno crossed his arms. “I thought you would appreciate that one, being a scholar yourself. Had a student submitted that thesis to their sage, they no doubt would have been expelled from the Akademiya—”
Alhaitham’s shoulders were shaking.
Cyno frowned. “Are you alright?”
“No.” Alhaitham dropped his hand away from his face. His lips were twitching with a smile. Cyno stared. “No, I’m not alright. That joke was pathetic, Cyno. So pathetic, it made my wound hurt even more.”
“It hurts because you’re laughing,” Cyno pointed out.
“If I’m laughing, it’s not because of the joke.”
Seeing Alhaitham’s mirth, however fervently he was trying to deny it, made Cyno’s own mouth twitch with the urge to smile. It was odd considering the circumstances they were in, but then again, Cyno had always believed jokes to be the best remedy for tense situations. In all honesty, it was rare that they had the intended effect. He allowed himself to feel satisfied that it worked just now, even if it was from the last person he ever expected to share a joke with.
Although, Alhaitham was much more agreeable when he was smiling rather than looking down his nose at Cyno.
“I don’t suppose someone will find us before you subject me to another one of your jokes,” Alhaitham said.
“I will look around. There could be a way to dig through.”
“I could use dendro to send roots through the rock, support them so they don’t fall.” Alhaitham rubbed his temple with a hand, looking pained.
“Don’t overexert yourself,” Cyno instructed.
“I know my own limits. Besides, I’d rather try something than sit here and wait.”
“You can’t even stand up.”
“It would be easier if you gave me a hand instead of criticizing my abilities.”
Alhaitham bent his knees, planted his boots against the ground so he could push up from his current seated position. Cyno took one of Alhaitham’s arms—the one on his good side—and pulled it over his shoulders, hauling Alhaitham up onto his feet.
“You’re heavier than you look,” Cyno grunted.
“Or perhaps you’re not as strong as you claim to be,” Alhaitham hissed, more with pain than venom. “Let’s go over there, the way we came from.”
The entryway was mostly covered with rock. Cyno eyed a few spots where he could probably blast a way through.
“Give me a moment,” Alhaitham said, examining the ruined path with a furrowed brow. His body was one long line of heat against Cyno’s. Alhaitham stretched his free arm forward and aimed his open palm at the rocks in front of them. “Alright. Let me see if this will…”
A glow of green light. Then a warm aura suffused the air, the same kind Cyno experienced whenever Tighnari or Collei or any other Dendro Vision-wielder used their gift. Vines slithered from the cracks in the earth and curled into the walls, like threads through a tapestry, binding everything into place.
Alhaitham dropped his hand with a harsh exhale. He slumped further against Cyno.
“There,” he said. “I estimate a seventy-eight percent chance you won’t send this mountain crashing down on us if you try breaking through now.”
“I will take those odds. Can you stand?”
Alhaitham straightened and pulled carefully away from Cyno. His breath hitched with pain, but he didn’t immediately collapse. Still, Cyno resolved to do this quickly.
He brandished his staff and called upon the power of his Vision.
With a piercing leap forward and a blistering flash of electricity, the rocks before him easily tore apart. He’d only cleared a few meters, but it was a few meters closer to freedom than they had been.
“Well done,” Alhaitham said when Cyno returned to his side. “I hope you’re ready to do that a dozen more times.”
Cyno smirked wryly as he retook Alhaitham’s arm and pulled it across his shoulders. “Just watch me.”
The journey wasn’t easy, particularly for Alhaitham. Even though Cyno had taken care of his wound as best he could, it clearly still pained him, along with the blow to his head. Cyno hadn’t realized just how far down they’d chased those mercenaries. The more layers of rock he destroyed, the more he hoped for even a glimpse of sunlight.
The vines Alhaitham had conjured began to ebb away the further they traveled, until eventually none remained.
“I can do it again,” Alhaitham said, stretching his arm forward once more. He looked exhausted.
“Don’t,” Cyno warned. “I told you not to overexert yourself.”
“I’m not backing down after we’ve come this far.”
“Alhaitham—”
“Just catch me if I pass out, at the very least. I would hate to hit my head on something again.”
“Scribe Alhaitham, defeated by rocks,” Cyno mused. “That would be a tale to tell the others.”
“Those same rocks will bury the both of us without my help.” Alhaitham sniffed. “Now let me concentrate.”
“Wait.”
Alhaitham sighed impatiently. “Now what?”
Cyno hesitated for a moment, then reached out to touch his fingertips against the wrist bone of Alhaitham’s outstretched arm. Sparks of electro glowed from the point of contact.
“Let me help,” Cyno said.
Alhaitham said nothing, only looked at Cyno with an odd expression. “Of course,” he muttered, like he was speaking to himself rather than Cyno. “Catalyzing the reaction makes it spread more easily.” Then he turned towards the blocked path before them.
This time, the burst of green energy was brighter, hotter, like the air itself was crackling with life. Cyno squinted his eyes against the strength of it. He glanced at Alhaitham, who watched intensely as vines of his own making laced through the rock. They grew faster than before and curled into more intricate shapes. Blossoms even sprouted in a few places.
Cyno couldn’t help but be awed.
The light faded, and Alhaitham pitched forward.
Cyno was there to catch him.
“Alhaitham,” he said. “You overdid it.”
Alhaitham groaned. He wasn’t unconscious, then. Good. “You’re the one who amplified the effects. The reaction was stronger than I expected.”
“I’ll take care of the rest, then,” Cyno said. Alhaitham stayed draped over him, his forehead pressed against Cyno’s shoulder. He was still heavy, but Cyno found it was a weight he was willing to carry.
Alhaitham shifted away, just enough to meet Cyno’s eyes. Cyno was struck with a sudden impulse to brush Alhaitham’s hair away from his face.
He raised his hand. Alhaitham stayed still, watching Cyno with confusion and something else, something Cyno couldn’t place. His fingers nearly brushed Alhaitham’s cheek.
The cavern burst open with a spray of sand and light.
Instinctively, Cyno shielded Alhaitham from the blast.
“Ah, finally found you!”
Dehya’s voice. Cyno’s eyes widened.
Dehya grinned and dropped the tip of her sword into the dirt with a heavy thunk. Her silhouette was lit by sunlight further behind her. Both Cyno and Alhaitham squinted against the light.
Lumine appeared beside Dehya.
“We felt a rumble and saw a huge dust cloud,” she said, hurrying forward. Relief was clear on her face. “We came here as fast as we could. Are you two alright?”
Cyno and Alhaitham glanced at each other. Then Cyno turned to Lumine with a wry smile.
“Better now that you’re here,” he said.
Aaru Village had a healer, thankfully. Alhaitham was whisked away to her the moment they returned, despite his stubborn insistence that he was fine. Cyno was relieved he could receive proper medical care now.
Meanwhile, Candace took Cyno to the village chief’s home to examine the cut on his brow and to check for any other injuries. Cyno winced as she dabbed antiseptic on his wound.
“Dehya told me what happened,” Candace said. “To be frank, I’m surprised you two weren’t at each other’s throats, being stuck together like that.”
“No more surprised than me, I’d wager,” Cyno mumbled.
Candace smiled a little. “Adversity brings people together in unexpected ways.”
Cyno fought against the heat rising to his face. Candace never spoke with ill intent, and Cyno admired that, but she often acted as if she knew something he didn’t. It was unsettling.
She finished cleaning his wound and placed a butterfly bandage on it. “There you go. Now get some rest, Cyno. You’ve had quite the ordeal.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. He paused for a moment, weighing his words. “Actually, could you direct me to the medical clinic here? Or wherever the village healer would be.”
That smile again from her. Cyno tried not to fidget.
“Sure,” she said. “Down the stairs to the right, it’s the building with a red banner in front.”
He nodded in thanks and rose from his seat to leave.
“Give Alhaitham my regards,” she said amusedly, and Cyno only walked faster out the door.
Evening had fallen over Aaru Village. The sky was a gentle purple, and stars would soon emerge. Cyno followed Candace’s directions easily enough and found the clinic, its red banner waving in the evening breeze. Warm lamplight glowed through the window.
Cyno paused at the door, suddenly lost for words. He felt a little foolish. Perhaps Alhaitham did not need or want his company. More likely, he needed uninterrupted rest. Cyno remembered the way Alhaitham had felt in his arms, the warmth of his body, how he hadn’t moved away when Cyno looked at him and went to touch his face.
Heat came once more to Cyno’s cheeks. He was being ridiculous. He could poke his head into the clinic to confirm Alhaitham was alive at the very least, then retire to the inn to sleep. They didn’t need to speak about what did or did not happen underground.
Cyno moved for the clinic’s door handle—
—and startled when the door opened and Lumine stepped out.
“Oh!” she said. “Cyno.”
Cyno stiffened. “Ah, excuse me.”
Lumine shut the door behind her. She smiled at him. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” Cyno crossed his arms. “How is…?” Gods, he couldn’t even bring himself to say his name. He was pathetic.
“He’s doing well. In fact, you could go in and ask him yourself.”
“I only wanted to know the extent of his injuries.” Cyno looked away. “He probably needs his rest.”
“He’s awake right now. Actually, he asked for you.”
Cyno’s gaze snapped to her. “Me?”
Lumine nodded. Something about her demeanor reminded him of Candace—like the shape of their smiles were the same. “He wanted to know that you were okay, too.”
Cyno cleared his throat. “Well, you could tell him that I’m—”
Lumine waved a finger at him, and Cyno blinked. “I’m not a messenger, Cyno. Go in and talk to him. I’m going to get dinner. Paimon’s been waiting for me and she is not happy when she’s hungry.”
She walked past Cyno and into the village street. The setting sun lit the edges of her form, made her glow. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave him one last smile.
“I’m glad you two are okay,” she said.
Cyno watched her walk away for a moment. Then he turned to the clinic door and opened it.
It was a tiny space, just a waiting area and a couple examination rooms. The healer inside greeted him politely and, when he asked, pointed him to Alhaitham’s door. Cyno took a breath before rapping his knuckles against the wood.
“Come in,” came Alhaitham’s voice.
When Cyno entered, Alhaitham was sitting up in bed. He wasn’t dressed in his usual clothes and instead wore a light linen robe. Cyno could see some of his bare chest, and below it were bandages wrapped around his middle. He wasn’t wearing his earpiece or Akasha Terminal. It was the barest Cyno had ever seen him.
Alhaitham looked surprised, judging by the way he blinked and parted his lips. There was more color in his face than before.
“Cyno,” he said.
Cyno wondered why it felt different now, to hear his name fall from Alhaitham’s mouth. He closed the door behind him and dared to wander closer, leaving some space between himself and Alhaitham’s bedside.
“You look… better,” Cyno said awkwardly.
“Well, my injuries weren’t grave thanks to that potion you used. And the healer said I probably don’t have a concussion. However…” Alhaitham’s expression turned disgruntled. “As a precaution, she forbade me from reading any books. And she took away my Akasha Terminal.”
Cyno nearly smiled. “I imagine the boredom is killing you.”
“You have no idea.”
“How will you cope without your vices.”
“They are not vices,” Alhaitham said, crossing his arms. “Forgive me for following the typical pursuits of my career. As if you’re any different.”
“Perhaps this is the opportunity for a new perspective, then. Knowledge outside your books and the Akasha.”
Alhaitham was quiet for a moment, and he looked at Cyno thoughtfully. “A new perspective,” he murmured. “Maybe so.”
Cyno’s heart was thumping. He turned his gaze away, because suddenly looking at Alhaitham felt nearly unbearable. Perhaps some fresh air would help him return to his senses.
He cleared his throat. “Well you seem to be fine, so I’ll take my leave—” He began to move away.
“Wait.”
Alhaitham caught Cyno’s arm. Cyno had forgotten what a long reach he had. His fingers wrapped neatly around Cyno’s wrist.
Earlier today, Cyno would have shirked his touch. But now, he was rooted to the spot, his focus narrowed down to the warmth of Alhaitham’s hand.
Alhaitham said, “Even I’m not so stone cold that I won’t express my gratitude to the one who saved my life.”
Cyno could only stare at him.
Alhaitham sighed a little impatiently. “Just—Come here, would you?”
Cyno did, stepping closer until he was right at Alhaitham’s bedside.
Alhaitham took Cyno’s hand in both of his. Cyno’s breath stalled in his throat.
Alhaitham said, in a quiet and fervent voice, “Thank you.”
Cyno stayed still, utterly lost for words. From their positions, he had to look down at Alhaitham—a rare view, and one that Cyno did not find objectionable at all. There was a furrow to Alhaitham’s brow and the barest tinge of pink to his cheeks. He looked uncertain and imploring and—
Ah.
Cyno reached out and gently took Alhaitham’s chin with his fingers. He tilted it up. A sigh shuddered out of Alhaitham’s throat.
“You’re welcome,” Cyno said, and leaned down to kiss Alhaitham’s mouth.
There was heat in the kiss, just a little, stoking the embers in Cyno’s gut. Alhaitham tilted his head back sweetly for him, and Cyno thought he could become addicted to this. Alhaitham’s fingers found Cyno’s hair, curling into it, and when Cyno nipped just so at Alhaitham’s bottom lip, his fingers tightened their grip.
Reluctance made Cyno slow to pull away. But he forced himself to, because they were not in a fully private space and he had more self-control than this. Although Alhaitham certainly made it difficult. He always had, even before today.
Still, Cyno allowed himself one more indulgence and rubbed his thumb along Alhaitham’s reddened mouth, intoxicated by the way Alhaitham sucked in a breath.
“When you’ve recovered,” Cyno said, his voice rough. “We should wait until then.”
“Always finding new ways to drive me mad, aren’t you,” Alhaitham muttered. “Very well. I’ll be patient, just this once.”
Cyno bit against a smile. “Not too patient, though.”
Alhaitham’s fingers, still buried in Cyno’s hair, scraped against his nape. “No, not too patient at all.”
By the time Cyno exited the clinic, night had fully fallen. The air was clean and crisp in his lungs. He looked to the sky.
Tomorrow would come soon enough. He touched his fingers to his mouth, and smiled.