"I'm freezing."
A boy lies in bed. He wears an oversized sweatshirt, which is why he feels winter gnawing through his skin and deep into his marrow. Even underneath a quilt and comforter, with a space heater next to him and the window closed, he shivers and shivers enough that the tear streaks against his cheeks have frozen into trails of frost.
"I can close the cracks for you."
Another boy appears, with a woven cloak of dried grass over his shoulders, skin and feathery hair completely snow-white. Ice crystals bloom like a fairy ring around him, as leans over the boy in bed. He repeats his words:
"I can close them, if you want."
The boy in bed shivers harder, teeth chattering. "Dad can fix the cracks too."
A cloud of frost rolls out as the snow child lands on the floor with an indignant rustle of his cloak. "What if he's not coming back?"
"He's coming back. He has to come back."
Kutone, gasping, sat bolt upright from a blanket of snow. No blizzard, thankfully, but the gulps of air she sucked in bit back with an unforgiving iciness. As quickly as she breathed in, she coughed it right out, as she staggered to her feet. After a few bumbles and a wary stumble in knee-deep snow, she finally steadied herself.
Sheets of white as far as her eye could see. She remembered Rasmodius telling her to expect a different Void-scape than her own, but she hadn't imagined Sebastian's to be so… ethereal. At least, in comparison to the murkiness of her own Void.
From nothingness we beget existence. The wizard, of course, had no desire to elaborate.
He did, however, finish the rest of his explanation. "As you stand," he'd directed to Sebastian, "you are in no physical or non-physical condition to undertake the trial. As such," And here he turned an amiable grin to Kutone, "we will send in an envoy."
A misstep sent her face-first into the snow. She would never, she decided, ever do this shit again. Not even for Sebastian's sake, once this was over.
Spitting and scrabbling back to her feet, she tried gauging her whereabouts. Where was forward? Where was backward? What, exactly, was she doing here again?
"Find the source of his power. But let me clarify." Here, the wizard had pressed a beautifully cut prism of Star Shards into Kutone's palm, much to Sebastian's visible chagrin. Then, after handing the Frozen Tear to Sebastian, Rasmodius waved his hand. A shaft of light danced between the two gems, as Rasmodius harrumphed his approval. "The link has been established. As the envoy, you are looking for a someone, Kutone. Someone who's bestowed the boy with the very powers he cannot control. Once you find that someone, we shall decide how to proceed."
Sebastian's shoulders had slumped again. "I have a choice?"
"If you decide to make this power your own."
But that first depended on Kutone finding said source. Heaving a deep, exasperated, and orienting breath, she began trudging through the snow again. Something, she decided, would happen so long as she kept moving, despite the lack of landmarks. No hills, and no dips. The flat, unending plane of tundra stretched far into the foggy gray horizon. Skeletal trees, bare boughs showing no signs of past snow, dotted the plains but presented no guidance.
I guess, thought Kutone, drawing her arms around herself, I do have auroras, at least.
They were the only curtains of color streaking through the gray. Undulating, prismatic lines that sort of broke the sky, if Kutone had to describe them. But unlike the soothing awe a true borealis struck into the heart of its viewer, these auroras unnerved Kutone like the tingling tension of an imminent lightning storm. Probably the shape, she decided, jagged and chaotic and downright unpredictable.
That same shape, however, compelled her to follow the lines.
She'd asked Rasmodius for a more concrete image of her target, and received a grunt in denial. "If I could venture inside myself and verify, I would," said the wizard. "The boy is not so readily open as you were, my friend."
Uncertain, unpredictable, un-fucking-reliable, and so, completely unsurprising. In a fit, Kutone kicked away a clod of snow. Proper gear would have been nice. A better briefing, surely? At least a weapon—that lava katana she'd recently purchased from Marlon would have done wonders here.
"You're not supposed to be here."
She looked down from the auroras, to find a boy standing before her. A boy? With nearly transluscent skin and brilliant white hair, he glared up at Kutone with glassy crystal eyes. From the cloak of dry grass over his shoulders, to the fact he stood, unsinking, on the surface of the snow, the boy was more fairy than human.
He clenched his hands into shaking fists. "You're not," he said again, "supposed to be here."
"Seems I missed that memo," Kutone replied. She sank to her knees, half-burying herself in snow to match the boy's eye-level. "Would you like to bring me up to speed?"
Icy crystals fell away from his hair like fairy dust, as he shook his head. "Get out. He doesn't want you to see here!"
"'He' meaning Sebastian?"
"I'm keeping my promise! He's the one that broke his!"
"Listen," said Kutone, squeezing every ounce of patience she could muster, "Sebastian's in trouble. I'm here to help him."
"You can't," the boy spat. "Because he broke himself!"
In a blast of cold wind and a slurry of snow, the boy disappeared. Ice whipped and flayed at Kutone's skin, tore through her hair, and she could do nothing but curl into a ball against the cutting blizzard. Numbness needled her fingertips and toes, and crept higher up her body, collapsing piece by piece under the blizzard's barrage. Blackness curtained the auroras, the gray sky, the white plains, in rings. Ice froze her eyes shut, but that, for a terrifying yet believable second, was alright.
Snow made a wonderful cushion.
"He didn't abandon me. He just went away."
The little boy in his oversized sweatshirt curls himself tighter into the black fabric. He breathes in the smell of motor oil and Dad's sweat from the seams. Mom put it in the wash before, but Dad's smell never leaves the threads of his favorite sweatshirt. It's proof, the boy decides, that Dad will come home.
He hasn't left his room in days. He hasn't opened his curtains or window, either. It's spring, but outside is too cold, and Mom's eyes are puffy every morning.
He recounts the days. Nine. Just one more day, maybe, and Dad will come home.
His new friend, sitting in an ever-growing ring of ice, cocks his head to one side. "Are you still thinking? About my help?"
The boy nods into his pillow, his black hair grinding against his cheek. "I just have to wait for Dad."
"It's really cold in here though."
"I'm used to it now." If he closes his eyes tight and thinks about the cold, this new friend of his visits him in his dreams. In those dreams, the black sky's cracked and snow falls. Drifting. But still his friend sits in that icy circle, and stares with those shiny gray eyes. They look a lot like Dad's. "Who are you, anyway?"
"Your friend."
"Before that."
"A fairy."
"No. I've read stories. You're different."
The snow child cocks his head to the other side. Considers his answer. "Okay then," he says. "I'm a monster."
Blackness faded in favor of brilliance, as a wintry brightness pierced through and coaxed Kutone's eyes open. She laid on her stomach, hands in semi-closed fists.
Her waking thoughts buzzed into coherent statements. First, this dream she had, and the one before it, were not dreams. Visions? Not quite that, either.
"Memories," she whispered. She glanced up from the ground, hard and cold yet dirt nonetheless, to the cloudy gray above. "Sebby, are these your memories?"
Numbness still ballooning her joints and touch, she scraped herself up from the ground and into a sitting position, knees tucked underneath. The auroras still snaked overhead like cracked glass, but their colors swam in a pattern different than before—she'd been blown to a different location.
Snow rose like dunes behind her, but ahead, the permafrosted ground gave way to loamy soil. And in the center of the smallest patch of soil, shone the only shaft of light Kutone had seen cast upon the ground in this snowy realm. With a preparatory breath, she levered herself to her feet, and approached the sunlit ground.
A seedling sprouted from the earth. Twin leaves open wide to soak in the sun, it glowed like a beacon. Awed Kutone kneeled low, and reached out to touch the leaves, when a voice—her own voice?—interrupted. "It makes sense he couldn't hurt you," she said. "I guess it was more of a warning than his actually trying to cast you out. Perhaps he wants you to stay, but just won't admit it."
Kutone shot to her feet, turning to face what she thought would be herself again. But no. This woman resembled fire more than darkness, in her rich auburn locks and crimson silks. A gossamer veil hid half of her face, but her golden eyes smiled down on the sprout at Kutone's feet. "The seed of light," the woman mused. "The key to healing him, and yet, it doesn't have the proper water to grow." Bells tinkled on her wrists and ankles as she joined Kutone's side. "It is not yet time."
Could this help her in some way? "Is it a special kind of water it needs? Maybe I can find it and help this little thing grow."
The woman brushed her fingertip along the edges of one of the twin leaves, and sadly shook her head. "It is an incredibly special kind of water, but I'm afraid it's something Sebastian will have to find himself. You've already done your part for his sake."
Kutone frowned. "Hardly."
"More than you think, actually." She pulled down her veil, revealing a face that mirrored Kutone's too well, despite her gold eyes and brown hair. "You sowed this seed within him, Kutone. You've given him a gift beyond anything he could have asked for."
"And he's apparently repaid me by stacking my features onto a different woman's? Don't get me wrong," she quickly added at the woman's amused laugh, "he's got taste, that's for certain."
She pressed her hand to her chest. "You compliment yourself, then. Would you believe me if I said this is how he sees you?"
"No, of course not. I know I can catch a few eyes, but I'm not that pretty."
"That's a shame then." The woman stood up again, and faced Kutone. "If only you could truly feel what you do to him, I'm sure you would have believed me. Yet, that's not my job either. That would be his."
"He," Kutone pressed, "is also falling apart. What can you tell me?"
"He reached out for something he promised he wouldn't." The dancer gazed up at the auroras. Despite their shine, concern darkened her features. "And that destroyed their pact."
Their pact. I'm keeping my promise! He's the one that broke his! "You mean with that little ice fairy."
"Fairy?" With a troubled frown, the woman crossed her arms. "I suppose that's one way of calling him. You've always held a neutral sort of perspective regarding differences like this."
"Mostly because it doesn't matter to me. What matters, is that my boyfriend's about to freeze to death because of something about that kid. I have to find him."
"That, I'm afraid, is easier said than done." She pointed past the shaft of light descending on the seedling, to the prismatic cracks in the sky. "Cracks come from a point of impact. I imagine you find the source of this breakage, you'll find the fairy as well."
Nodding her head in thanks, Kutone cast one more glance upon the sprout basking in its sliver of sunlight. A seed of light she'd somehow sown. If only it could be the heart of a burgeoning forest. Or maybe, the sprout itself could become a great tree, and provide a haven to everyone crossing the tundra. She hoped Sebastian would find that special water soon.
Climbing the slopes of the clearing's wintry bowl, Kutone drew her arms around herself again. Who knew one sprout provided so much warmth to such a wide area? She considered running back, to warm herself at its aura, but she found herself hooked on both the woman's and the fairy's words: Sebastian had broken some kind of promise.
"So the fairy's angry at that, and won't get this ice thing under control?" It sounded like a viable theory. "Should I kick some sense into him then?"
No one answered her, but she didn't take it as permission. What to do with the kid was apparently up to Sebastian, after all. How would he even know when Kutone caught up to him?
And if those dreams—memories—were anything to go by… No wonder Sebastian's Void took the form of a stagnant winter. Silent, save for the crunch and sift of snow shifting under Kutone's soaked shoes. Like the world itself waited for something to make it move again. Something—someone—to bring back a sense of time. No doubt, the "point of impact" of the sky's cracks started at the moment Sebastian's father had left, wherever or whenever that was in this dimension. And that winter fairy didn't want Kutone to find that moment.
Thirty-seven days…
The whisper came on a breath of wind, from the direction of the auroras ahead. Sebastian's voice, Kutone realized, from his childhood.
Eighty-three days…
Counting days instead of weeks and months, as though gleefully waiting for a record to break.
One hundred and forty-six days…
Though it was unlikely he was still counting like this, Kutone's chest seized. Wrenched itself into a sympathetic knot.
Three hundred and ninety-three days…
She stopped on her path, her dragging steps through the snow choked by her own tears. "Sebby," she murmured, "your dad left you."
No he didn't.
At first taken aback by the response, Kutone settled her nerves, and tried again. "I know he must have had a reason. It doesn't change the facts. He abandoned you and your mother."
No he didn't!
"Sebastian—!"
Liar! Dad's coming back, just you wait!
She started trudging along again. "Let's meet," she said. "We'll talk about this."
I don't want to see you! You're just going to lie again!
"Your dad left you a pretty motorcycle, didn't he?"
He showed me how to take care of it. I have to keep it nice until he gets back!
At a certain point in his waking life, Kutone guessed, Sebastian must have realized the truth. Dad wasn't coming back. Yet another part of him had latched on to hope. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dad would come home. Maybe things could go back to what they were before. It was a method, she knew, of keeping himself alive, because without hope, what could he look forward to? What could he mend himself with? What could keep him afloat?
If only she could offer herself…
Who are you, anyway?
A child locked inside of perpetual winter only knew so much, after all. Either that, or Sebastian's distance from himself kept this part of him ill-informed. She stopped again, breathing hard against the effort of her trek. "Kutone," she responded. "Out there, you grew up. We met. We're together."
I heard your name. From out there. You're not—you're not gonna leave me, are you?
"I mean to stay with you as long as I possibly can, Sebastian."
Really?! The silence stretching after that buzzed with anticipation, until he spoke again. Um! We have to be for sure! You should come find me!
"A wind stirred, as Kutone wondered what made up Sebastian's "we." Her answer manifested in a swell of snow and ice, as the winter fairy appeared again, crystal eyes sparking with relentless fury. "I won't let you," he hissed. "I won't let you! Get out!"
The shredding blizzard hurled Kutone into the air again. Before she could scream, another burst punched her in the stomach. Shock knocked her back into the black again.
Consternation knitted Rasmodius's brow. The awakening ritual proceded smoothly. Or at least, from the rune circle above Kutone's and Sebastian's heads, the circle floating between the palms, and their respective jewels, floating, casting their ethereal glows in glimmering winks against their faces, the ritual proceeded well enough. Both were natural adepts at magic, Sebastian moreso than Kutone. The boy followed instruction without question, and made the process more natural than most adepts learning magic. He held his palms up as instructed, as though in offer to Kutone's hands, palms down as though receiving. Ice crystals still blew from his lips in puffs of cold air, but he no longer appeared troubled by the development. Rather unfortunately, from the twitches of his hands, something agitated him enough he was liable to withdraw the position, and throw Kutone out of his heart.
And Kutone! What was going on in there that she had shallow cuts nicking her arms and face, even cutting sprigs of her hair? Her fingertips and her knuckles had gone bright red from frostbite, and her breath rolled out in labored, beleaguered puffs, yet she maintained the position, eyes closed and brow creased in determination. Kutone would undoubtedly finish this job, but hopefully, Rasmodius prayed, at a reparable price.
Ice crept along the wall next to the two on Sebastian's bed. Crystals bloomed around them in a ring.
Perhaps, Rasmodius decided, it was still too early for the valley to see magic again. Whatever gave Sebastian the same icy abilities as his father, it needed sealing, before it was too late, like that same father before he disappeared. He saved the rest of his conclusion, however, for the results of this experiment.
With a wave of his hand, Rasmodius summoned his tome, as well as the materials necessary for the seal. An ore of Void Essence, as well as obsidian and fire opal. Then, in one wide turn, he reached for the earring in Sebastian's left ear. At least the boy made this part of making the seal easy.
"Mom read me a story. You're the yeti boy who cried frozen tears."
Crystalline flowers bloom from the icy growths around the snow child. He flicks off the petals of one that looks like a wildflower. "You didn't believe me when I said I was a monster."
The boy sits on the side edge of his bed, and watches the yeti boy. "You look more like a fairy than a monster."
The yeti looks up from his creative destruction. His crystal eyes glitter like the ice dusting his white hair. "My friend said the same thing."
"Before the lake."
"You shouldn't talk about what you don't know."
"You're all alone too, huh?"
"You have your mama. I have nobody."
The boy lifts the hood of his father's sweatshirt over his head. His vision half-obscured, he doesn't see the intrigue the yeti casts him. "Mom says she's not waiting for Dad anymore. Says she's already seeing someone."
"Are you lonely?"
The boy nods, and presses the cuffs of his bunched sleeves against his wet eyes. "She won't wait for him with me. I'm all alone." Sobs shudder his tiny frame. "Did Dad not want me? Why did he leave?"
"Humans leave all the time." The yeti pulls his hand back from the icy flowers. "That's why, they're no good. They hurt others, first by staying, and then leaving."
"Does that mean no one wants me?"
In a rustle of his cloak, the yeti leaps to his feet and over his ring of ice, to the boy sobbing into his father's sweatshirt. "We're the same," says the yeti. "So I promise, I won't leave you."
The boy peels his wet, gray eyes from his sleeves. He sniffles back the rest of his tears. "You're a liar. Just like Mom. And Dad."
"I can prove it." The yeti points up to the broken sky. "I can close those, remember? With ice. I can do it for you. I can keep them closed."
"And you won't—you won't leave?"
"Yeah. But you have to promise, that you won't leave me too."
She was above the gray clouds. The sharp auroras shined brighter, in a woven yet shattered web, against the black sky, a sky, she realized, she found familiar. While everything else in her world had been an amalgamation of her nightmares, the sky, she remembered, had been a lovely view. She could stare and stare into a point in that sky, and while the present stars flickered out, new stars glimmered into their places. She could watch the night shift and curve and slide for the rest of time, if time weren't a constraint.
Time. The same constraint that had trapped Sebastian into his characteristic melancholy. Too much time had passed between abandonment and someone telling him, "I won't leave you." If only, Kutone thought, pressing her fingertips against the tears falling from the corners of her eyes, if only her mother had stayed in the valley. If only Kutone herself had been born here, raised here, and known Sebastian early enough she could have saved him from himself.
"Kutone? Are you here?"
She flipped over and staggered to her feet. "Tell me where you are," she croaked. "Sebby, please, I have to see you."
"Don't cry. I'm here. See?"
"Here," was a little boy's room. Darkened as it was, a static glow surrounded the room's fixtures like fuzzy blue lightbulbs. Under her feet laid a dark rug, bordered with stone castle patterns and depicting a dueling pair of dragons. One blew ice, the other, fire. Open books and tossed-aside dust jackets laid scattered on the floor, a desk, on top of a small bookcase, and a nightstand. Player pieces and scenario cards for an abandoned board game lay splayed by the foot of a bed.
A bed, with dark sheets and comforter, upon which sat a pale little boy in an oversized black hoodie. His black hair parted at the middle, unlike his older counterpart, Sebastian's amiable smile held a startling radiance. Maybe the glow-in-the-dark wall stars pasted in a cluster behind him gave him that effect. Or maybe, it was the moonlight cascading down through the window above the headboard of his bed. Or the auroras, still blinking their prismatic sheen on the ceiling directly above Sebastian's head.
A shiver shot up Kutone's legs, her spine, up to the roots of her hair. She hugged herself again, as she sat down on the rug. "Aren't you cold, Sebby?"
"It's always like this. But I'm okay." Sebastian lifted his arms, showing off the sweatshirt and its drooping sleeves. "See? It's Dad's, but he gave it to me."
The same damn hoodie Sebastian always wore, but this one wasn't nearly as worn. He'd treasured it since his childhood. "Your dad," started Kutone, "he's not coming back, is he?"
The smile disappeared from Sebastian's round cheeks. He dropped his arms, and stared straight at the floor. After a hard blink, he nodded once.
"So you made a promise with the yeti."
Another nod.
"And now you're falling apart." She waited for an affirmative, but received none. Maybe he needed an easier explanation. "Everything's freezing out there, Sebby. More like, you—you're freezing everything."
Alarm jerked the boy's attention up. "Did I hurt you? Mom?"
"No, no, Robin's okay—I'm okay." Thank goodness for the semi-darkness. Sebastian likely couldn't see the itchy redness flaring across her hands and arms. "Do you know what happened?"
Sebastian's gaze dropped back to the floor. "I think it's you."
"Rude," Kutone snapped. "You do realize I'm here to help you?"
"I—!" Sebastian knitted his hands together, at least as much as his sleeves allowed. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."
His forlorn expression stabbed regret deep into a spot just between her heart, and her ribcage. Kutone cursed herself, with a heaving sigh. Who could have known—other than Robin, of course—that Sebastian had been so innocent, so honest, in his childhood?
"Kutone, you're not leaving me, are you? Because I said something bad? I'm sorry—!"
"Sebby," she cut in, her voice as gentle as her personal irritation allowed, "I promised I wouldn't, for as long as I can."
The fear in his gray eyes softened to tenderness again. He smiled. "Right. You don't lie. I know."
She made a mental note to verify this pure smile with Robin, as she brought her knees close to her chest. "Tell me what you mean, though. I happened?"
"I want to be with you. And I want you to stay with me."
He reached out for something he promised he wouldn't.
You have to promise, that you won't leave me too.
Ah. So that's what pissed off the yeti boy. More like, she had pissed off the yeti boy. Or maybe, this expectant, hopeful look Sebastian cast her was what did it. He saw her, and no one, and nothing else. Not even the fact loneliness became his constant companion on the day he realized he'd been left behind. This winter, this perpetual loneliness of his that had become so part of Sebastian—it was loathe to leave him. Hated having someone else take its place to smooth over the gaps left behind by hurt. Hated seeing Sebastian trying to invest himself in something beyond his own solitude.
And that was probably why, the moment Kutone met Sebastian's gaze with her own, a wintry tornado stirred between them. Separated them. Threw Kutone into the wall furthest away from the boy in his oversized sweatshirt. Icy spears stabbed into the spaces dangerously close to her head, pinning her in place despite Sebastian's protesting shouts.
"You're not," the yeti boy drawled, "supposed to be here!"
"How am I supposed to help that?" Kutone shot back. "Your winter hurricane threw me in here."
"It wasn't me! I didn't bring you here!" The yeti whirled around to Sebastian. "You led her here! She was supposed to leave and you brought her here! Without telling me!"
Sebastian shrunk into his sweatshirt. "I thought, maybe, she could help. She says she promised me. Outside. And she promised here too—!"
"You can't trust her!" His gasping shriek betrayed his barely-contained sobs. "She'll go away—someone will go away. It happens all the time. No one wants to stay…"
Maybe it was tongue-tied agreement that made Sebastian shrink even further into his sweatshirt. But, though muffled by the fabric, he mumbled out his response. "But she's still here."
With a start, the yeti spun around. Disbelief hardened into a snarling scowl. Glittering tears beaded at the corners of his icy eyes, even as he launched himself at Kutone.
She stared, mouth open, at not only the dilated eyes, but also the serrated teeth, the protruding claws, and the ice encasing the yeti's outstretched limbs. This, she thought, was the concrete face of wrath. Much like her own snake, he lashed out to protect himself. And to him, Kutone was a viable cancer, waiting to unleash the worst pain Sebastian could imagine. Heartbreak? She'd already dabbled in that with him. Now how far would she push it?
It was a valid fear. She closed her eyes. The hisses drew closer. Icy breath blew into her face.
Then it yelped. Choked. A body slammed onto the floor.
Kutone opened her eyes.
There, flailing on the floor, laid the yeti. His monstrous features dissolved back into his fairy-like semblance, he rolled and tugged against the grip on his cloak, pulled taut and choking him.
Sebastian held the hem of the cloak in his little hands, and yanked hard against the yeti's struggling. He breathed hard against the strain. "I trust her," he simply said, and tugged another direction against his captive. "You can't hurt her."
"Why?!" the boy screeched. "Why are you choosing her and not me? I was your friend this whole time! I fixed the sky for you and I closed the cracks so you couldn't feel the cold! I did all of that for you! I'm your friend!"
Sebastian's grasp trembled. "I don't know."
"What makes a human better than me?!"
"I don't know! But it's not—it's not that she's better." Teary as he was, revelation softened Sebastian's stricken features. "It's not that anything's better. Can't I have both?"
The yeti boy quit his raging tantrum, and turned a boggled stare up to Sebastian. "Both?"
"Kutone wouldn't lie to us, you know. She could be your friend too."
The crystalline, wide-eyed stare turned to Kutone next. Analyzing. Calculating. Remembering another time, Kutone guessed, from the droplets of frozen tears landing on the hardwood floor in soft clicks. She sat unmoving against the wall, figuring a sudden move would spook the thoughts churning in the fairy's head.
Then came his answer. Slowly, cheek grinding into the floor, he shook his head. The frozen tears tapped harder. "No," he mumbled between dry sniffles. "No, she can't. She'll leave. I know it, she'll leave!"
On her hands and knees, Kutone crawled forward. "Hey," she crooned. Once closer to to the yeti boy, cloak still taut in Sebastian's hands, she lifted one hand and reached out to pat his snowy hair. "Hey. Look. Shh." Despite the pinpricks of cold against her palm, the boy's hair was soft like plump feather down. "You're part of him, aren't you? Haven't you heard anything I've said to Sebastian?"
"I did. I did hear." His voice trembled, barely containing the bawl about to erupt from his lungs. "But you both say it's not certain. You might leave. He might leave. And I'll be all alone again. Again!"
Still sniffling, the yeti boy levered himself to his knees. He swallowed down the rest of his sobs. "That's why—that's why I can't trust you. You have to leave! You have to let me stay!"
With a final yank, he pulled himself out of Sebastian's grasp. Mumbling a weak "Please…" the boy drew his hand back, and mightily swung forward.
The burst of pressure that hit her might as well have been a stalagmite punching her in the chest. Kutone slammed into the wall and blasted through. Above her, the prismatic web of cracks rushed away with her breath, as well as her consciousness.
Result: the experiment was a spectacular failure.
It looked promising at first. Kutone had found the source of Sebastian's abilities—she'd indicated as much when she pressed her hands down onto Sebastian's, and gripped hard enough she left red prints on Sebastian's pale wrists. The rub, however, began with Sebastian himself. He struggled back. Tried to wrest his hands away from Kutone's, tried again and again to throw her out, but she held fast.
Then for one moment, serenity returned to Sebastian's troubled features. A smile had even flickered. He returned Kutone's grip with apology, with fondness, with what Rasmodius would even categorize as love. The placidity in Sebastian's expression had warmed even the wizard for just one moment—and then it completely shattered.
He'd wrenched his hands away, and the broken connection threw Kutone head-first over the bed's headboard. A pained groan rushed out of her, but she laid, unmoving and crumpled, on the floor. The sigil on the ceiling burned away, the spell broken as both Star Shard and Frozen Tear landed in the fabric of the bed.
Sebastian, meanwhile, was completely conscious. Shoulders heaving with his labored breath, he pressed his palm against his sweating forehead. "Shit," he mumbled. "Shit, shit, shit—that was all real? God, she saw all of that?" He glanced down at himself. "Shit!" Ripping his sweatshirt off, he hurled it across his room, barely missing Rasmodius.
And the ice still made a circle around him. Cold air still blew out of him in visible puffs. Rasmodius shook his head. "You had it under control for a moment."
"'Under control'?" Sebastian snapped. "Keep kidding yourself."
"I hardly have time for levity, boy. You'd do me a great service by telling me what happened inside."
Incredulity glowered in Sebastian's icy eyes. He snorted and shook his head. "No. I'm keeping that to myself, if you don't mind." Then, with a start, he blinked at the empty space before him. "Kutone?"
"Your rejection knocked her out cold."
"And you didn't think of telling me that first?!" Just as Sebastian sprung to his feet, however, he slammed back into bed from Rasmodius's raised and open palm. "Move."
The wizard shoved him back down again, this time pressing his hand down on Sebastian's chest. Ice crystals crept up the wizard's fingers as Sebastian glared death. "I recommend," Rasmodius hissed, "that you think twice before addressing me with such threat, boy. I am here to make sure you don't kill the girl. Understand?"
"Kill her?!"
"Understand?"
Sebastian eyed the ice creeping up Rasmodius's sleeve, and finally relaxed.
"Very good." Dispelling the ice with a sweep of his affected arm, Rasmodius then reached into the wide sleeve of his robe. "It's unfortunate this ended in failure, but in retrospect, it was an outcome to be expected. I admit I lost my rationality in my hope to see magic returned to the valley." He produced a small black hoop earring, and dropped it into Sebastian's palm. "Let this be a symbol of my apology."
A confused Sebastian felt at his lobe. Nothing. "When did you take this off of me?"
"At the first signs of your possible rejection. I suggest you put it on. Now."
With practiced ease, Sebastian hooked his earring back into place. The effect was instantaneous. A violent shudder vibrated once through him, and the cold finally lifted. He blinked, dumbfounded, and breathed into his palm. No frost. He touched the wall. No ice.
Rasmodius took a final check, seizing Sebastian by the collar of his shirt and turning his face up. "As expected. Back to normal." He let go, and breathed a thin sigh in relief. "I've added some augmentations to your accessory. A seal of fire, if you will, to keep your abilities in check."
Tension drained from Sebastian's shoulders. He slumped against the wall. "So I have to wear it all the time."
"At least until we can make another attempt, should that be something you wish to do."
For a lengthy second, Sebastian said nothing. Not even appearing to contemplate a response, he slid off his bed and crept to Kutone's side. Gingerly touched her cheek. "When we do, I want to do it on my own."
"A fair notion."
Leaning against his bed, Sebastian levered the prone Kutone into his grasp. Pressed his face against hers and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "She's cold," he murmured, tightening his embrace. "Hold on, Kutone…"
The wizard watched as Sebastian dragged his quilt off his bed, and wound Kutone in its layers. Watched, as Sebastian, apologizing under his breath, drew himself around her again. Reflected, on the contentment that arose in him, the same warmth Rasmodius sensed from that flicker of serenity in Sebastian's features before. Listened, to Kutone's easy breath against Sebastian's anxious tremble. "I believe," said Rasmodius, drawing his arms into the sleeves of his robe, "I must apologize again."
Sebastian's glare prompted the wizard to continue. "I called this venture a failure. I take it back."
"Why should you?" Worry reduced Sebastian's voice to a defeated mutter. "I thought I could do something, could be strong for her sake, and here I am again, messing it all up."
"Not quite." Rasmodius turned away, drawing a transport sigil at his feet. "You ejected her from the deepest trenches of your heart, yes. But perhaps, you also had a glimpse of a great, infinite possibility, while you allowed her inside.
"That, I believe, can be called a success, small as it is."
"Are you trying to make me feel even worse?"
The lavender runes glowed in anticipation, as Rasmodius chuckled. "Believe what you like. It is not my position to sway you one way or another. However." The wizard turned back around, and tipped the brim of his hat toward the pair. "It is in my jurisdiction to tell you, do rest up. Both of you. I will return to check on your seal once you are well."
"As if I ever want to see your face again."
"A fair answer. I appreciate the honesty."
Light flashed, and the wizard disappeared.
Sebastian held tighter, planting a long kiss against Kutone's forehead. Exhaustion finally finished its work, and with Kutone nestled perfectly against him, he fell asleep.
His dreams this time, remained quiet, like the image in them, of a snow-white fairy boy staring up at a gray sky.
Powder snow drifted to rest around him, and piled on the shoulders of his dry-grass cloak.