come morning light (you and i'll be safe and sound) (Syndisparklez)

by vanillaspork

I find that Tom's lips do, indeed, taste like fire. They taste like desperation. They taste like death, but life, too. They taste like broken hope. They taste like faith. They taste like war. They taste like Tom. We kiss like there is no tomorrow. And there isn't.

The air saturated with dust and smog blinds me, reaching into my lungs and twisting with a fiery grip. I cough and wheeze, my thirst unbearable. I don't know where all this strength to run has come from. My knees are like jelly. My muscles are burning like nothing I've ever felt. And yet here I am, running for my life without a destination. I don't know if it's actual energy, adrenaline, or just the mind-numbing fear of dying that's keeping me going. Right now, in this moment, the most sensible answer seems to be the grip of the person beside me. Maybe it's his tight hold on my hand. Maybe it's the trust that my heart is desperately holding onto: that he is capable of somehow getting us both to safety.

"Tom," I gasp, still coughing. My vision is blurring. "T-Tom—"

"I'm right here, Jordan!" comes the frantic, firm response. "Don't lose hope. I'm still here. Focus. Focus on me, okay? I'm not going to leave you."

The sky above me looks like it's soaked in blood, casting a crimson color on the ground in front of me that I can hardly see. Fires blaze all around us, the sweltering heat taking form in a thick layer of dirtied sweat on my skin. The smoke that suffocates me doesn't help at all. I can hear buildings crumbling under the constant tremors roaring through the ground, walls falling to their needs.

Dagrun is falling.

I yelp, shaken to my senses as a blazing tree crashes beside me. I jump and feel Tom do the same. The heightened fear is almost physical, now, sharp like sparks in the space between me and the man beside me. With wild eyes, I survey my surroundings. What am I doing here, in the middle of this apocalypse? I don't even know how it had started. The only thing I understand right now is that I'm going to die. There is no other way. I can't possibly escape—neither of us can. All we're doing right now is delaying the inevitable, reaching for a light that only the desperate grope for.

The heat grows to almost too much. I know I'm going to have second-degree burns from this experience should I survive. A terrible earthquake shakes the ground beneath my feet, and I fall to my knees, gasping. My grimy hair billows in the dirty breeze swirling around us. I croak for breath, staring at my dirt-streaked hands. A hot lump begins to burn a hole in my throat. This place was supposed to give us a new life. New hope. New dreams. New love. And now it's being ripped away from us, giving us nothing but death accompanied by destruction right before it. I miss Mianite—the old Mianite, with Jerry's Tree and Captain Capsize. I miss my old life. I miss the Purges. I want to be anywhere but here.

I remember tears streaming down your face when I said "I'll never let you go"

I hear an involuntarily cry come from my mouth, and no sooner do I let go of that sob does the dam burst. Tears cascade down my face and drip onto the rocks beside me, almost instantaneously getting evaporated into this nightmare that allows for no condensation. I bend down, hands on the ground, as I cry. Wails shake my body and I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm not sure if I've yet accepted the fact that I'm going to die, but it still scares me. Terrifies me. Chills me down to the bone as I try to grasp that there is no hope, no light, no escape.

Suddenly I feel arms wrap around my body, and I whimper as Tom tugs me into him. I grit my teeth and cry softly as I tilt my head back onto his chest. My tears fall onto his arms, pulling away some dirt that it finds there, and I feel the vibration in his throat as he growls and holds me tighter. Fiercely Tom whispers into my ear, "Don't cry, Jordan. Don't cry. I will get us out of here. I will make sure we survive. I don't know where Tucker or Sonja or Wag are. But I do know where you are. You are here with me. And I will never leave you here alone. I won't abandon you. I won't ever let you go, Jordan. Please remember that. If it's the last thing you ever remember of me, let it be that you're mine and nothing else's. Not even death's."

My heart is shaken at the hard-hitting ideas Tom implies, and I can't speak for a moment. I turn my head slightly, staring at him through tear-blurred eyes. His deep brown eyes bore into mine, holding my gaze with the hold of iron. I don't stop crying, but this time, there are tears of gratitude intermixed with the fear. "Thank you," I rasp hoarsely. "Thank you." The words sound hollow, and not nearly enough, but they aren't empty. I feel like there is still something I have to tell Tom, though, something important. Something that has been in my heart to tell him for a long time. But through everything happening to us, I just can't seem to remember.

When all those shadows almost killed your light

Disasters are plaguing Ruxomar. Terrible, terrible disasters that not even Waglington can explain away. I certainly don't know what's going on. But my fortress is creaking, and I realize I can feel it swinging. I stand up in my room, concern pricking the edges of my subconscious as I watch the thunderstorm rage over me. Lightning flashes over the horizon. As I listen to the sounds of lightning, I begin to wonder if the echo I hear is my imagination or real. It sounds closer, more…threatening.

Startled, I look down at the floor, where I find a huge crack just beside my feet. I cry out and am barely able to jump into the air, wings sloppily flapping, as the crack groans and spreads farther. It shoots to the far edge of the room, smaller canyons star-bursting from the initial tear. I regard the sight with huge eyes, momentarily paralyzed. I regain composure after a stunned moment and hovering over my elevator where I teleport upwards. I wince at the sound of it shattering just seconds after I do.

I emerge on top of the tower and take to the air, unsure of everything except that doing so is certainly a good idea. The moment I do, the fortress seems to almost scream. I shriek as lightning splits the sky above me. Blinded, my wingbeats falter, and I almost miss the searingly hot line of white streaking down from the clouds to strike the towers. A horrible burning smell accompanied by the stifling scent of static electricity fills my nose an instant before my home abruptly explodes. Stone flies everywhere, and in my temporary paralysis, I don't try to dodge the shrapnel ripping through the air towards my body. It takes a projectile that drives deep into my bicep, scarlet instantly blooming in my shirt and spurting through the air, for me to scream out and get out of the way. I wheel around and fly faster than I ever remember myself going, trying to protect my head from the storm of variously sized debris. Nothing as big as the shard of stone still lodged in my arm hits me, but plenty of smaller things rain down on me and collide hard enough to leave black bruises in the morning. As soon as I'm far enough, I take advantage of my current immunity to pain resulting from the peak in my nervous system from the wound in my arm. Clenching my teeth, I take hold of the stone wedged inside of me and don't even give myself time to countdown before I wrench it out in one clean motion. As I expected, I feel nothing but a muted sense of pain. The overflow of blood that immediately follows is taken care of with a thick, lengthy strip of cloth from my shirt, and I fumble for a moment as I tie it around the wound with one hand. I knot it off tightly, forming a sort of tourniquet. Fortunately, the wound isn't as deep as I previously estimated, and a bucket of penicillin—which I don't even know where to find anymore—should do the trick.

But that's not nearly the greatest loss I have just suffered in the span of not even a minute.

Turning, I watch in a numb daze as the remains of my fortress collapses before me. There is not a single sign of either of the towers ever existing except for a huge pile of blackened, charred stone and glass. Dust blows up in a massive cloud, obscuring my view of the place I had for so long called home. I can do nothing but stare, mouth open, the feeling of helplessness and loneliness settling over me, so heavy it feels like I'm drowning.

It's gone. It's all gone.

I can't stick around and mourn the loss of my tower, however. Lightning still threatens to strike me down, and I am now homeless. I choke and wipe the tears away from my face, favoring my bad arm. I whirl around and fly faster than ever to get away, away from the rubble that had once been my home. Only then do I realize that there is an eclipse taking the place of our sun, covered by thick clouds. It casts a long, foreboding shadow over me. I watch as the light disappears slowly, slowly, and then all at once. I notice an ominous dark red color beginning to melt into the sky, bleeding into it like food coloring in murky water. What is happening to this place?

I hang onto Tom, keeping him as close to me as humanely possible, as I struggle to remember what had happened only yesterday. I had gone to Tom's tree, where he had found a broken, wounded, and exhausted man that now existed only as a shadow of the friend Tom once knew. He had wordlessly accepted me without any hesitation and bandaged me properly, looking quite shaken when I showed him my arm. Neither of us said a word. Neither of us had to. Perhaps the only thing said between us was when he helped me into his bed and then settled in beside me, when he had whispered hoarsely, "This isn't our home anymore, Jordan. It's kicking us out."

I had only nodded, fighting back tears, and let him hug my oppressing terror away. That night I had slept with my back against Tom's chest, his arms and legs a protective cocoon around my battered body. I look back on it now as a blessing in disguise: at least my last night on this God-forsaken earth had been spent in the arms of the man I quite possibly loved the most. The illusion of safety was broken, however, when we woke up to the wailing of heavy winds and the howling hate of the fire. Quakes were already holding races underground. We had flown as fast as we could to the mainland, only to find our world in flames. We didn't dare fly when the vicious lightning storm made its presence known. There is no rain to swallow the fire, no relief in the ground to let us find our footing before another tremor rolls underneath us. Just thunder and lightning and fire and death.

I remember you said "Don't leave me here alone"

I inhale on instinct, and the almost immediately regret doing so. Another sob begins to build up in my throat when the intake of air sends the familiar, sweet smell of Tom's faint cologne circulating through my nostrils and into my lungs. It hits me like water washing through a throat coated with mint; it invites unwelcome memories to invade my mind. One of them is of our first kiss, when Tom had impulsively kissed me on the beach one evening before excusing himself and leaving. I had done nothing, shocked by the intimacy of it all. That evening had not been too long ago in reality, but right now it seems like a pleasant eternity ago. It was the point in time when I had begun to love him back, more fervently than I loved any of my other friends and harder than even Capsize. For some reason, I have yet to tell him that. I don't know what to say. I never have. I'm going to die without ever letting him know.

"Jordan?" Tom breathlessly checks with me, his hand curled tightly around mine. "Hey, are you—are you aright?"

I stare at him, and I find that there are tears swimming in his eyes. "I—I don't…no I'm not alright. Nothing's alright—Tom, where are we supposed to go?" I choke on a particularly ash-heavy mouthful of air and cough, licking my chapped dry lips and flinching at the taste. I squeeze Tom's hand, trying to let him know I'm okay for the time being.

He frowns and comes in close. I catch my breath at his proximity. "I don't know," he admits, his eyes clouding over guiltily. "But at least we're moving. That's good enough for the moment. But can you promise me that you won't give up on me? Can you promise that you'll keep going?"

I inhale and lean forward, our foreheads touching. The heat from his skin reaches into mine, warming me in a different way than the fire. It's a gentle, affectionate warmth, stark in contrast to the aggression of the fuming heat. "I won't leave you if you don't leave me," I murmur, trying not to shiver despite the temperature. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't," he swears earnestly. Then he kisses my forehead. I freeze, my mouth slack jawed. He smiles at me when he pulls back, his eyes shining much too bright. And then we keep running.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight

We continue in a tense silence, not able to spare any breath for dialogue. Many times we detour and find a new path when we find ourselves faced with an impassable obstacle, but Ianite's soul must be guiding us with the last strings of its power because we always manage to push on. I soon come to realize we are heading towards Tucker's dojo in hopes we can find our friends. But even if we don't—even if this journey is meaningless—I don't really mind. Why? What makes this run with death something more than a tempt against fate?

Because I still have Thomas.

As we emerge onto the field heading towards the dojo, much of which is already smoking, I hear Tom take a sharp breath and makes a feeble noise. I freeze behind him, startled when his grip falls from my hand. He sinks to the ground, a hand over his mouth. "Jordan," I hear him whisper, his voice thick with emotion.

"Tom?"

"Look."

Slowly I kneel beside him and follow his gaze, puzzled.

And then I see him.

The only thing that escapes from my mouth is the single word "No." My blood runs cold and my skin peppers up with goosebumps, and it's hard for me to breathe even before I can properly assess the situation.

There, in the middle of a fire roaring around his lifeless body, is a limp, hooded figure. The tattered soot-covered cloak is all too familiar to me. I can still see red markings beneath all the dirt and burn marks on his face. A huge rust-colored splotch of dried blood stretching from one hip to his collarbone makes my stomach lurch, and I shudder to think about what had happened to him. Even from this far away, I know it's too late for us to save him. For us to try and give him back the life that had, at one time too long ago, lit up his face and dark brown eyes. Death has already settled upon him.

Waglington is gone.

I feel a sob well up in my chest, and both me and Tom begin to cry as we watch the shreds of his cloak sway softly in the breath of the flames. My body shakes and my vision blurs. My head drops to Tom's shoulder, and then into his chest, as I close my eyes and cry. I distantly feel Tom's arms snaking around my form, but I don't acknowledge it. I can't bear to look at the sight of Wag lying, dead, with fire licking right at the edges of his body. It's as if the gods had wanted us to see our friend right before he disappears forever. I hardly hear myself gasp, "W-Wag—no…"

Tom trembles against me as we stay there as long as we possibly can, daring to risk these precious moments. The tremors appear to momentarily cease, as if even the ground itself mourned the loss of the Wizard. I try to stay as quiet as I can while I cry, my nerves unresponsive and my body completely still with trauma. Finally Tom urges gently, "Come on, Jordan. We have to go."

"But Wag," I protest, choking on my words. "We can't leave him…"

Tom's hands grab my shoulders, and he looks at me sternly albeit mournfully. "We'll always remember Wag, Jordan. But we have to go. He'll always be in our memory, I promise. But we won't have a chance to preserve him if we stay here, because we'll die." He casts a regretful look towards Wag's figure that's already disappearing behind the fire. "He's somewhere else, now," Tom murmurs in a suddenly quiet, thoughtful voice, almost as if he hadn't meant for me to hear. "Somewhere much better than here."

Then he turns to me, almost apologetically. "We'll never forget him," Tom vows, voice deep with sorrow. "Come on, Jordan."

Gently he pulls on my hand as he stands, head bowed. His once purple hair, now dirty and streaked with brown and gray, flutters in the breeze. He turns to give me a look so sad I feel my heart break into two pieces all but unwilling to go on. "Come on," he repeats, covering his mouth right after. His voice threatens to give. He pulls me with him, biting his lip hard, and doesn't look back. However, I do, and send one last long stare Wag's way. Something like a knife drives deep into my chest when I catch a final glimpse of his form before the flames engulfs him completely, forever hiding him from the dying world. My friend is truly gone.

Just close your eyes; the sun is going down

The dirt we kick up as we run down the worn path disappears in the wind. Deafening thunderclaps cause me to fear the health of my eardrums. I stare at the walls of Dagrun through the flames, and I see a beam of lightning zig-zag through the air and smash into one of the towers on the wall. Dumbfounded, I watch in something like twisted awe as the tower grumbles softly before crumbling. It falls into the angry ocean below and sinks beneath the crashing waves, not making a single change in the swelling tides, vanishing immediately from view. Tom pulls me away before I can break down.

I have long grown blind to the unnaturally vibrant tangerine haze haunting our path. Somewhere along the line my sense of reason and processing has been lost; I now run with Tom in a daze, incapable of feeling anymore. I never knew that Ruxomar could so easily bow to this fate that has been inflicted upon it. I never knew the walls could topple this easily. Dagrun, the once legendary kingdom, the pride and joy of King Helgrind, disciple of the almighty Mianite, is falling. Collapsing. It is at its knees, bound by the chains of fire and the tethers of storm. It has found its end. This is it. And I cannot believe that I will be alive when everything becomes nothing once again—and that's thinking ridiculously optimistically.

I don't notice myself growing weaker until I look up and discover that we are nowhere near Tucker's dojo. Close to no progress has been made in our confusion and deterioration of mind. I suck in a breath and choke on it, my lungs going aflame all at once. My bones scream at me, my muscles wail, my skin is covered in welts and blisters. I almost collapse, finding just enough strength to gasp, "Tom—we—I can't go much further."

Tom looks at me with concern, his eyes widening when he sees how hard I'm wheezing, how close I am to sinking to the ground. "The smoke—oh, shit, Jordan. We need to rest."

"But where?" My eyes are streaming. From the heat or smoke or grief, even I cannot tell. "We'll die out here!"

Tom sidles up to me and hoists me up with a firm arm, grunting. I sag against him, gasping loudly and frantically. The tang of ash and burning earth makes me gag, and I almost vomit. "There," Tom tells me out of the blue, pointing to a lone column of stone. Stairs spiraling around it leads up to a small stone hut on the top of it. It's in terrible condition and vulnerable to lightning, but it is clearly a blessing from whatever gods still gaze upon us. Even in my fractured consciousness I know the best thing to do now is to use it.

I nod as best as I can, grabbing onto Tom with distressed hands. I can tell I'm greatly burdening him, but to his credit he gives no indication, says nothing to make me let go. All he does is murmur, "Come on. A little more. A little more, Jordan. I'm right here. Use me."

We struggle through the terrain, weaving through the wildfires and keeping our eyes focused on the hut. We reach the stone column, and I nearly pass out. I can hear Tom breathing hard as well, and his arms and legs are shaking wildly. But still he is silent, and he forces us to keep going, urging me on with soft words I cannot hear. Together we make our way up the stairs, and the second we stagger underneath the rickety roof, we sink to the ground and gasp for breath like madmen.

It hurts like nothing I have ever known; every breath feels like liquid gasoline is filling my lungs. Every movement feels like my bones have been replaced with knives, my muscles with bundles of needles. Still I roll onto my back, trying to clear my lungs, and stare up at the structure. Burnt wooden beams barely hold it up, and the wooden ceiling is peppered with holes. But a ragged bed devoid of all but a soiled mattress beckons us in the corner, and right now, it is the best thing I have ever seen.

Tom notices, too, and he comes over to me, groaning as he hefts me up. He ignores my retching and drags me up, whispering sweet nothings into my ears. The one that I do catch is, "Over here, Jordan. We can sleep together like we did yesterday. Do you remember that?"

I nod. It is the only thing I can do.

He lets me drag myself onto the bed and sink into it. The mattress isn't soft, it doesn't welcome me like my old bed had, but at this point I cannot afford to be choosy. Softly Tom pushes me a few inches away from the middle, giving him just enough room to lie down beside me. We nestle each other in silence for a few moments, and then he breathes, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"For what?" I rasp, the fumes in my lungs eating up my words. "You didn't do anything."

"I know, it's just—it kills me to see you like this, and…" Tom shakes his head, looking more vulnerable than I ever remember seeing him. "You can't die. I can't let you. It—it'd kill me if you died."

I tilt my head and stare at him, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the passion I see on his face. His eyes seem to stare right into my soul, penetrating into me deeper than his gaze betrays. My hands drift to his shoulders, and his arms cross over me. "Me too," I say eventually, ignoring the burn in my throat. "Me too."

Tom coos softly, seeing the pain on my face, and draws me into him. I sniff into his shirt, finding his scent underneath the heavy layer of smoke. The spiral of good memories it brings takes advantage of me, poking my sensitive heart until I break once again. I can't remember how many times I've cried today, but lying with Tom in an ancient stone structure in the midst of a supernatural wildfire seems to be a decent time to add to the list.

"I won't go without seeing you safe," Tom promises quietly, his breath rushing over my hair. "Close your eyes, Jordan. Pretend that it's nighttime after one of our Purges. The sun is going down. You're back in your fortress, asleep. Just close your eyes. You're safe and sound."

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

"But what about all of this?" I ask hoarsely, staring into his eyes and hoping to find help there. "All this…I—you can't ask me to imagine something like that. No one can be safe or sound…no one…"

I shiver and feel something warm begin to spread through my body as I feel one of Tom's hands go into my hair. His fingers run through the the messy strands and gently smooth them down. His other hand begins to rub soothing circles into my back, his fingers splayed against me and tracing formless things into my skin. For the first time in a long while, I feel the tiniest hint of relief. I look up at him with sleepy eyes as he rubs me and murmurs, "We may not be safe, Jordan, but I will protect you. No one will get to you through me. I promise." He turns away to cough, and then looks back at me. His eyes glitter. "I told you…told you I wouldn't leave you. And I won't. I will stay with you until my last breath. And—" He wheezes, the air rattling in his chest as he takes a deep breath. "—I will die if it means you survive. If one…if one of us is to make it through this darkness, I'll do everything in my power to make sure it's you."

I break down even harder, grabbing onto his shirt and shaking my head profusely. "No, Tom," I sob, "either we both live or we both die. I won't live without you. I can't. I can't."

I hug him close, crying. My heart throbs as Tom exhales shakily and holds onto me as tightly as I am. I cry into his shoulder, whimpering a tiny bit as he breaths, "We will be alright, Jordan. We have to believe that. I'll make sure nothing hurts you or me. I'll keep us safe. You just have to keep me going, yeah?"

Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound

I don't want to sleep. I can't. I won't. I shouldn't. Not in the midst of all this. But I can't help but find sanctuary in Tom's arms. I feel safe, crazy as it seems. Fires are blazing all around us, filling this room with stifling heat that I have grown to disregard. Lightning can strike this hut down at any time. Earthquakes burst against the ground. Even the wind is working against us. But Tom's arms make me feel safe, even for the slightest moment.

And my tears stop flowing.

Maybe it'll be the last time I ever feel like this, but I give into Tom's embrace and touch. I surrender control. I let him take the wheel. I close my eyes and let out a long breath as I melt into him, his hands in my hair and on my back becoming part of me. As I doze off, my face pressed against his chest, I hear him promise in a dim voice, "One day, Jordan…we'll be safe. Somewhere. Safe and sound."

Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire

"Sparklez."

I wake up to a hand strangling my shoulder. "Tom?" I manage to force out, shifting on the bed. Tom is shaking me, anxiety jolting through his palm in heightened pulses. "What's wrong?"

"Outside," he gasps, pointing to one of the makeshift windows. His voice sounds somewhat clearer, as if this enclosure has actually provided some prevention against the smoke. I can't believe we have actually managed to sleep.

I sit up and look out of the gap, my limbs still weak. I choke on my next sharp breath.

Everything is on fire.

Everything.

Not a single foot of grass has been spared from this doom that had set in while we were asleep. My mouth hangs open as I stagger outside, staring at the kingdom in the distance. All I see is towers on fire. Tattered flags have been reduced to blackened strands of thread. Remaining walls are being devoured by flame. If the infernos we had faced before had been a storm, this is a hurricane. Nothing will be left after this. If this land survives the earthquakes raging under the surface, it will be nothing but a charred patch on the earth—scarred brown land covered in embers and debris stretching for miles upon miles.

"What are we going to do?" Tom wonders quietly, coming to stand beside me. I can't move, even after I feel him take my hand in his. "Look at this. We can't walk anymore. It's hell down there."

Suddenly the faces of my two other friends—whom are hopefully both alive—come to the front of my mind. "The dojo," I gasp, turning to look in the direction of Tucker's dojo. Despite it being right on the footsteps of the dying kingdom, the land isn't quite consumed yet. The aura of Mianite's power is visible around it, though it's slowly dwindling. It won't last much longer. "We can still make it."

"By flying?" asks Tom incredulously, nervously glancing at the sky. Thunder is rumbling, and the sky still glows red, but we have no choice. This stone column, by some miracle, is the only thing still protected from the jaws of heat below. We can stay here for as long as we can, but we'd die of various symptoms eventually. For instance: dehydration. As I think about it, my cracking tongue begins crying for moisture. I can't remember the last time I drank water.

"Yes," I tell Tom firmly. "Come on, Tom. We have to find them." I hold his gaze and murmur, "They have to be there. They have to be."

Tom is still silent. I hold my breath, mentally begging him not to say what I know he's thinking. Pleading with him to give me just this, imploring him to allow me to hold onto what fragments of hope I still have. "Please," I whisper. "Please."

A long pause. And then Tom speaks.

"Okay."

The war outside our door keeps raging on

My smile of relief must be larger than I think, because Tom's eyes soften with something like pity. He doesn't say anything, though, nothing to counter my optimism. Instead he squeezes my hand and spreads his wings. I follow in suit with a deep breath, feeling the muscles in my back stretch painfully with the effort. Slipping towards the edge, we stare deep into each other's eyes as I begin, "One."

"Two," he says almost immediately, a small smile tugging at his lips.

And then together, we breath, "Three," and jump off the ledge.

Our wings immediately find a gust of dry, suffocating air and lift us up. Hand-in-hand we glide over the all-consuming fire slowly annihilating everything in its path. I no longer notice the violent coughs Tom and I break down into more often than not. I cringe at the thought of the conditions are lungs must be in. I begin to hear something strange as we ride the currents of air. Whistling. And it doesn't sound good.

I look to the left, bewildered. Then I see it. A streak that momentarily appears in the air, shrieking as it made its appearance. I stare in horror as it flashes towards the boiling ocean, a line of white and orange in its wake. As it meets the water, a loud sound resembling a mighty explosion meets my ears.

Horrified, I look over at Tom, who is already staring at me. "Meteors," he tells me sullenly. "Hurry."

I swallow as best as I can, my throat parched and dry. Our wings flap faster, nearing the dojo. It's like a war zone. I can easily imagine faces and bodies in the fire, bodies of flame and anger. I can hear the flashing of swords as the fire fights to overtake this land. And I know it is succeeding. The sound of victory isn't hard to hear. And yet…there is another sound. What is that?

Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone…gone

It takes me a moment to realize the sound is coming from Tom. I look at him in wonder, seeing that he is humming a melody. It's a deep, rumbly melody, coming from his chest. The notes he emits makes my heart want to sink into the depths of his eyes and stay there, all of my trust put in him. My life in his hands. I want him to take me to the farthest edges of the earth, to the darkest chasm in the most dangerous part of the world, to the deepest point of the coldest ocean, and stay there with me forever. Because I feel like I truly trust him. I feel like he is all I needed. And for the first time, I am truly able to grasp what real love is. Because I feel it towards Tom. Real, burning love in my heart that burns far hotter, far longer than the fire threatening to mar my skin. Far stronger than the tremors opening valleys and caverns in the ground. Far brighter than the lightning igniting the parapets of the castle. I had known I loved him, but I had never imagined that I housed this beast inside of me. This lion that would so eagerly jump up and fight to the death for the sake of this one singular man who saved my life. This wonderful, wonderful thing that makes what is happening now almost worth it. Because I finally realize something.

I am in love with Tom.

And the strangest part of it is, I know what song Tom is humming. It's an ancient battle song. Ianite had sung it to me once, when I had tea with her in the End when she…was still alive. Tom is humming the melody of it. And as he hums, the emotions it evokes resonates in my vocal chords, forces me to open my mouth and sing along. Even without my conscious decision to, my soft, quivering voice combines with the notes coming from Tom.

Storms will rise and kings will fall

Darkness steals the life from all

Yet we will stand and we will fight

Against the cold chains of the night

Tom glances at me while I sing, locking eyes. He begins to sing with me, lending a beautiful harmony I never knew he had.

No, we won't die, we won't stay down

For we will hope until the sound

Of stars falling from up above

Covers our undying love

My voice trails off at the end of the sentence, as does Tom's. Something like a jolt of electricity sparks between while we hover there, motionless. His eyes are gleaming against the light of the fire, his rich caramel-colored irises reflecting the light and passion of the flames. Neither of us speak, but our minds are completely open to each other. I forget about the meteors falling through the sky. The fire turning everything into dust and ash. The earthquake ripping the land apart. The thunder shaking the moon from the sky. I forget about everything except the British man in front of me, seeing nothing but the deeply affectionate eyes fixed on my eyes and then my lips. He gets closer, and out of the corner of my eyes I think I see his hands drifting to my face. His fingers graze my jaw, and for a second I think he's about to kiss me.

But then I cough, my eyes suddenly watering, and the moment is broken. As soon as I open my eyes from my breathless fit, there's two feet between our faces where there was momentarily six inches. My heart drops, but the look Tom gives me catches it. He opens his mouth, about to speak, but then thinks better of it and turns away. Silently I follow him, trying to figure out what to think, and fly down to the dojo with him.

Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

The structure is creaking and groaning, facing its last minutes of life. All of the once vibrant, lush trees are gray and withered. The thick grass is dead and stiff. The house at the far end is forbidding and dark, looking about as alive as Wag. I can see that it's barely standing. The rotting wooden beams hanging off of it sway perilously, huge singed holes everywhere. It is completely unsafe. It screams danger. The smell of smoke is even more pronounced here, which is odd because the fire hasn't yet touched it. But it will soon. I look at Tom, who, once again, is not looking not at the house but at me. I know the words he wants to say. For my sake he still does not let them hang between us.

I bite my lip, unable to whisper anything but, "Do you think they're in there?" even though I'm already aware of his answer. I know they're long gone. I know they're dead. I know that we might've flown over their bodies in the fire, soared over the place where they made their last stand before succumbing to the fire. All I can do now is pray they died together.

In a flat voice, Tom murmurs, "Jordan—" before stopping at the sight of teardrops falling from my cheek. I turn on my heel and run towards the house, leaving Tom to follow me. My breathing quickly gets heavier. Fog is beginning to gather around me; I have no idea where it's coming from.

I slow as I approach the door of the house, not turning when I hear Tom's footsteps grow louder. "Should I?" I ask in a feeble voice, my eyes on the filthy black wood.

He hesitates before lifting a dirty hand to my chin, tilting my head up and making me look at him. I stand there with a sweaty hand on the doorknob, my mouth parted. A quick thought flashes in my mind: I wonder if his lips taste like fire.

"Go," he remarks, an unreadable look in the back of his eyes.

A wave of gratitude crashes over me, aware that he's being strong only because he knows I need it. Now I have to do the same. So even though we both know that our friends have left hours ago, I still open the door and stare into the interior of the dojo. I try to suppress the sharp pain in my heart and the regret that keeps stabbing at me that we hadn't said goodbye to anyone. I fail.

It smothers me.

Tom and I are the only ones left.

It's as if opening the door also opened up a pathway to a new kind of sadness to flood through me. A kind of sadness that gnaws at your bones, poisons your blood, stomps on your heart and leaves you to put it back together. I let out a hoarse cry, stagger into the middle of the room, and drop to my knees. I don't hold back anymore. I let all of my tears come forth. I cry for my dead friends. I cry for Dagrun. I cry for Andor and Ianite and for Champ and Dec and everyone else I had lost to the fire. I cry for my fortress that had carried more meaning than I realized. I cry for the happy days I had once spent with Tom and Tucker and Sonja back in Mianite, and the new ones here in Ruxomar that Wag began to spend with us. I cry for the memories, every one of them built intricately with the tender hands of time and love.

I cry for Tom and all the chances I missed to build a life with him.

You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now

I find that deep inside, I hadn't actually thought it wouldn't end like this. I didn't really believe I was going to die. I had foolishly held onto the belief that somehow, Tom would come through. That somehow we would be able to fly over the ocean together, heading towards an unknown paradise that would lend us another chance at living. And I find that one of the most painful things in life, even more than accepting the fact that you are going to die, is having your hopes viciously crushed and being pierced by the shards.

I barely hear Tom call my name in a voice overflowing with sadness. I don't feel him kneel beside me. I moan and sob loudly, melting into his arms as he holds me. "Why, Tom?" I wail at him, my hands fists. "Why did it have to end like this? It could've ended any other way, but—but we're alone, and they're dead, and everyone's gone! Tom—Tom, this can't happen, this can't be it. Please tell me this isn't it."

Tom says nothing.

I bawl harder, soaking his shirt. I know he doesn't care. I have never felt this heavy with despair before. I have never felt this emptiness, this vacant space in my chest where my heart is supposed to be. "Dagrun is gone," I gasp, vainly trying to get a grasp on my crying. "Everything is gone. I just…I can't live anymore…Tom…T-Tom…" All I can blubber out is Tom's name, stammering it multiple times in between ragged breaths. He holds me tightly, cradling me to his chest, his head on mine. My forehead presses against his throat and I feel his irregular heartbeat in his chest, sharp and fast against my face. I focus on it, pour all of my concentration into detecting each beat. My fingers are pulling at his shirt, and I practically suffocate myself as I try to wriggle into Tom. I can't get any closer.

My subconscious tells me that the fire is closing in. I don't even care. This place is going to burn with us inside of it, and I don't care. I hold onto Tom as if he is all I have left. And he is. He's my everything. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing. All I want to do now is die in his arms. There's nothing left for me while I'm alive. I just want everything to be over. I bury my face in his shoulder, my body shaking hard.

Tom rocks me, his arms like bonds I don't want to escape. "Shh," he hushes gently, his voice cracking as he finally speaks. "I know. I know. I know, Jordan. I know. Your heart's broken. So is mine. Believe me. I loved all of them so much. All of them had a different story, and I loved them all." He lets go of me and grabs my face, lifting it up to his. Our noses brush together, and I suck in as much air as I can as he takes off my glasses and throws them to the side. Nothing but the thin oxygen is between us now. "I will never forget any of them," he says, tears leaking from his eyes. "None of them. None of them at all. Whether we survive this or not, they're always gonna be in our memory. Remember, Jordan? We won't forget them. We can't. There's no way. They died trying to reach us. They died for us. And we will never forget them because of that."

I inhale unsteadily, trying to steady the flow of tears. "But we won't survive this, Tom," I protest weakly. "You know that."

The fire in the courtyard is eating up the outer wall. Neither of us pay any attention to it. In these last moments, every shred of our focus is on each other.

His hands curve around my face tenderly, his palms warm against my cheeks. Tom breathes, "I do know that, Jordan. I know. I've known that since the beginning. I know that there was no hope since the start. But you know what drove me, Jordan? You. You were my hope. You were my dream. You were my drive. You were the one thing I cared about this entire time. You were my love and my heart. And you still are, Jordan. I won't let anything hurt you while I still live."

Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound

"What are you saying, Tom?" I whisper, wiping tears viscous with smut away from my cheeks.

His eyes are glassy as he answers, voice breaking with a sob. "I'm saying I love you, Jordan. I love you, I love you so much. I've loved you in this world. I've loved you in the last world. I've loved you as long as I can remember." He shakes his head, having to clench his teeth to control himself. He settles for resting his forehead against mine. "And I'll always love you, in whatever world comes next," he pledges, his hands trembling on my face.

I kneel there, overwhelming grief and joy fighting for dominance in the remaining splinters of my heart, as I try to find a good response. "I love you, too, Tom," seems to be the right one. So I keep going, aware of the ticking sounds of the clock counting down our final minutes. "I've always loved you. Too much, it seems." I hesitate, and when a crack of thunder above us reminds me of how desperate our situation is, I am brought back to what seems to be the last good memory I have of me and him. I remember the grains of sand sticking to his palm when he had grabbed my face. I remember the taste of sea salt on his lips. I remember the sound of ocean waves crashing on the shore, the only sound I had heard in that one moment. So I say it. "Will you kiss me again?"

Just close your eyes, you'll be alright

Tom wastes no time in replying. "Of course," he whispers, opening his eyes and guiding my face up to his. I smile at him, my throat clogged with hot emotion, and slip my hands around his neck. Tom stares down at me, too many feelings to be put into words shining on his face. One long second passes between us in the dirty oxygen we share, and one second is all we need. His head is moving towards mine and mine towards his, and the next second finds us locked in the final act of our lives. I hold onto him like a man holding onto his lifeline—which, I suppose, is exactly what I'm doing. Tom holds me too, his fingers curling into my hair, my back, and kisses me like his life depends on it. And in a way, it does.

I find that Tom's lips do, indeed, taste like fire. They taste like desperation. They taste like death, but life, too. They taste like broken hope. They taste like faith. They taste like war. They taste like Tom.

We kiss like there is no tomorrow. And there isn't.

I lose myself in him in everywhere possible. I lose myself in his arms and his earthy lips, the all-too-familiar smell underneath the smoke clinging to his body, the smell that lends me solace in memories of a brighter yesterday. I lose myself in the tongue that frantically probes my mouth, the hands that grab at my body, the nose that bumps against mine in our hurry to show each other everything we have ever felt for each other, the arms that involuntarily lock around my face to keep me there. To remind him that I am there. I have no idea what I'm doing, but it must be similar.

His embrace makes me forget, even just for a minute, that the world outside is being eaten away by fire and rock and water. And that's okay. Beyond okay. Because the world doesn't matter anymore. Because right here, in Tom's lap and arms and lips and chest, is all the world I need. And I'm confident that I'm going to be alright.

Come morning light, you and I will be safe and sound

Thunder claps directly overhead, and the whole house shakes powerfully. Something above us lets out a loud screech, and a giant crack! echoes through the house. Tom freezes, and I do the same. We lean away from each other, eyes huge. My panic must show, because one of Tom's hands goes down to my left thigh and lightly tugs, suggesting that I wrap my legs around his hips. "Hold me," he whispers, his lips brushing against mine. "Don't let go."

I nod fiercely, sobbing silently, and do as he encourages. I grab him with my legs, my calves pressing into his back, and lock them there. Tom raises his legs and firmly nestles his knees against my sides, holding me in place. My arms get tighter around his neck as the house quakes again, and I feel Tom's muscles jerk when a huge chunk of smoking wood crashes through the ceiling and lands a short distance away. I dare to look around his face, feeling my gut lurch when I realize the doorway has collapsed, sealing the exit. The house is caving in.

"Jordan."

I look back at Tom, not realizing that my breathing has dramatically quickened, indicating a rising panic attack. He leans in and blocks my view with his head, kissing me hard. I immediately sink into it and squeeze my eyes shut, my chest heaving while I cry and kiss at the same time. His hands keep me safe, his grip unyielding, and somehow maneuvers so close I can no longer smell the fire. All I can smell is him, and my body stills. My worry slowly melts away, and even though I can still hear the sounds of the dojo falling in on itself, pieces of the ceiling and the floor above smashing down around us, I keep my eyes shut. I distantly feel an earthquake more intense than any other rumbling under the dojo, speeding up the process. But I don't care.

One of Tom's hands strokes my head, soothing me, and I only hug him tighter. He nibbles on my lip, and I can taste one of his tears sliding into his mouth. It's salty and takes me back to the ocean that I had been drifting in when I first met him. The memory hits me more powerful than the lightning striking the courtyard outside, and I rear back, gasping for breath as I look at Tom. He stares at me, confused.

"Tom, I love you," I blurt, wishing I could say what I needed to. "You were there at the very beginning. You're here at the very end. God, Tom—I wish—I wish we had more time—"

"It's okay," Tom replies, his smile the saddest yet joyous I have ever seen. "It's okay. I love you. I could say it a million times and not get tired of it."

Our voices distract each other from the crackling of the fire upstairs, the hissing of the flames not ten feet away, the slams of the burning drywall hitting the floor.

"Then keep saying it. I want it to be the last thing I hear," I beg. My fingers are probably leaving red marks on his skin, but it doesn't matter.

Tom leans in and kisses away a tear on my cheek. "I love you." He kisses my forehead. "I love you." He kisses my nose. "I love you." He kisses my lips. "I love you."

He says it so many more times, a final piece of music in this world of discord. I'm saying it, too, even though I don't know it. I just tuck my head into the crook of his neck and sob it into his shoulder, in time with each beat of his heart. I count each beat I feel, wondering how high I can get before I don't hear it anymore. Tom's mumbling into my hair, right above my ear, so it's the only thing I hear.

It gets hot. It gets unbearably hot. To battle it I think of waves, I think of water, I think of happiness. I think of Tom's face staring down at me, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes at that shore so many universes and lifetimes and smiles and hugs away. I think of his calloused hand taking mine, lifting me off the beach like it's the easiest thing he's ever done. I think of his voice—his beautiful, beautiful voice—welcoming me to the World of Mianite. The place where my life began.

A deafening roar resonates through the dojo, and I lift my head, knowing what's about to come in about ten seconds. I grab Tom's face and he grabs mine, and he whispers, "I'll see you again, Jordan. I love you. Don't you forget it when you wake up."

When I wake up. "I love you, Thomas," I rattle out, breathing in deeply, filling my lungs with his wonderful, amazing, wistful scent for the final time. The sound I make when I exhale is lost in the screaming of the dojo as the once-lavish roof gives in, falling towards us, unfazed by the levels it smashes into.

I don't smell the smoke of the fire as it closes in.

I don't feel the flame consuming our bodies.

I don't notice the inhuman pain of hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of burning wood and stone crushes us underneath its weight.

No, the only thing I smell is Tom. The only thing I feel is his body curving around mine. The only thing I notice is the distinct sensation of his chapped lips on mine as my world abruptly flickers out of existence, darkness enveloping me in its cold tendrils. My lips are in the shape of his name as my eyes close for the last time, and I am content.

I feel the light of dawn on my skin, cool water lapping at my suit, sand dusting my hair. I want to open my eyes but I cannot. I want to see Tom's face but it's too far from my reach.

But that's okay. Because he's already right here beside me.

My light goes out.

I am safe and sound.

END