As it turns out, Shion has arrived in the Mao village, a place where magic blends together with daily life so seamlessly that it might be the best place possible for him to feel at home. The old gods might not be as present in the realm as Shion once thought, but there's still magic in the Mao village, and Shion's about to discover what it's like.

This chapter's more or less an introduction to the Mao village and a few of the people Nezumi knows, so I hope you all like it! This was a really fun chapter to write, especially since it's always interesting to see the world that Nezumi lives in and how he functions.

Enjoy!


CHAPTER TWELVE


Shion sighed as gentle ruffles of cold wind whipped through his hair. He blinked into the morning light, his eyes still sensitive from days spent in complete darkness. He looked around the forest with wide eyes, taking in the sight of the little town that spread out around him.

Beautiful huts crafted of strong, dark wood squatted in haphazard rows along a makeshift dirt road. Tiny shacks and boots were draped in vibrant fabric, shielding them from the worst of the bright sunlight. It barely felt like winter at all as Shion shuffled along beside Nezumi, the ends of his cloak dragging along the snow. Nezumi had snagged it from the Elder's cabin, informing Shion that it would be far warmer than the flimsy robe he'd taken off the hook.

There weren't many folks on the street, but Shion could hear them indoors, chatting to one another and laughing at jokes only a handful of them understood. Shion turned and admired the structures, the stream of smoke rising from one where he suspected a strong fire raged in a stone hearth. The scents of pastries and fresh meat wafted through the streets like an expensive perfume, and Shion breathed them in as deeply as he could.

A vibrant red bird perched on a tree branch, staring down at Shion with beady blue eyes. A large white spot bloomed on its chest, which puffed out as it realized Shion was watching it. It trilled and flapped its tiny wings before soaring into the dark forest looming behind it―an area Shion hadn't ventured, so thick and dark that he wondered how anyone could see through it at all. Though the sun rose high above it, no light penetrated the thick copse of trees, and Shion felt a sudden sense of dread lance through his stomach.

Nezumi stepped beside him, seemingly indifferent to the imposing forest looming at his side. "It's not too far now," he said, drifting his hand through the air. His heavy black cloak fluttered in the faint breeze, but he kept his hood down even though a faint bit of color tinted his nose and cheeks.

"Where are we going?" Shion inquired.

"My cabin."

Shion's shoulders tightened at the prospect of it. He shouldn't have been as embarrassed as he was. Nezumi had seen his cabin―had fallen asleep in his bed, arm thrown across Shion's chest and hips pinned to the mattress beneath his own. It shouldn't have felt as intimate as it did, heading to see the place that Nezumi called home. Even so, Shion couldn't fight the shivers that bolted through his stomach as he thought about what kind of cabin Nezumi lived in, what furniture would be there and what stories he could tell from its presence.

Shion's shoes crunched across the snow and gravel. Beneath the layer of white, he could see sharp stones and little bits of crystal he thought might have been scattered about on purpose. He couldn't feel magic radiating from them, but that didn't mean much. Perhaps the charms had been used once before, and after their magic wore away, they'd been left to supply ambiance.

He trotted to keep up with Nezumi. His legs were a bit longer, and Shion huffed a little with exertion as he pushed himself to keep up with his pace. Nezumi, for his part, slowed down just a bit when he noticed Shion struggling. He made a face, as if he were a bit annoyed, but if he was, he kept silent about it.

"It's so beautiful," Shion said, admiring the village. The buildings were huddled together in a close, intimate way, a community rather than the uniform rows Kronos seemed to think were appropriate. Warmth radiated from each cabin, not just in the magical sense, but in a metaphoric way. Shion could sense the happiness surging from the folks who called this place home.

"Not what you were expecting, I take it?" Nezumi asked.

"Not at all. I've only―" Shion pursed his lips, suddenly embarrassed.

"You've only...?"

Shion averted his gaze, finding the shimmering blue bits of crystal peppering their way through the snow far more interesting than whatever lay ahead of him. "I've only ever heard stories in Kronos. We... don't have an understanding of the Mao tribe or what your village looked like." His cheeks flared up as the words tumbled over his teeth like water. "For a while, whenever I thought about the Mao tribe, I thought it might look like something out of a storybook. Full of giant flowers and vines and stone towers. But, then I met you, and..." Shion couldn't fight the smile that stretched its way across his face, the excitement that bubbled up inside him as he remembered how good it felt to let someone else in, to allow another person to know about his magic. "I realized everything I thought I knew about the Mao was wrong."

A muscle in Nezumi's jaw twitched.

Shion meandered alongside him, reveling in the scent of the fresh snow and the lingering brush of flower petals. Golden sunlight shimmered around them, kissing Shion's cheeks and warming him. The remnants of the poison had vanished from his system, and Shion felt fresh and new and content. He swayed as he walked, the magic of the Mao settling around him like a heavy cloak.

"So," Nezumi said after a moment of comfortable silence, looking at Shion in his periphery. His silver eyes caught in the sunlight, as beautiful and deadly as the edge of a sharp blade. "Are you disappointed, now that you know the truth?"

"No," Shion replied with a smile. "I'm not disappointed at all."

Nezumi looked ahead, his face turning just a bit red. Shion's heart swelled at the sight of it, but he avoided saying anything as they continued to wander down the dirt road, weaving between the buildings comprising the Mao village. It could have been from the winter chill, after all.

By the time they reached Nezumi's cabin, the sun had arced its way into the dead center of the sky. Shion was familiar enough with the passing of winter days to know that darkness would be upon them much sooner than anticipated, but the prospect of night didn't worry him as much as it did when he lived in Kronos. The arrival of night meant Shion might be dragged out of his home and hauled to the church, bound in chains and forced to recite scriptures until his throat bled and his voice disappeared, simply to prove that he wasn't a threat.

But with Nezumi standing at his side, the fears that came with the darkness vanished, and Shion could fall in love with the beauty of the stars and the winter chill. He looked into the pale blue sky, buzzing with excitement at the realization that tonight, he could step out onto the streets and twirl beneath the moonlight, laughing into the indigo twilight.

Shion tugged the collar of his cloak away from his neck, letting a brief flutter of cool wind breach the heat trapped beneath his clothing. He took a deep breath of the wild world, surrounded by magic and freedom.

"Here we are," Nezumi announced.

Shion lifted his head and stared at the beautiful cabin standing a short ways before him.

It was squat and pretty, made of the same dark wood as the rest of the buildings in the Mao tribe. Shion couldn't see any windows here, either, but it didn't frighten him. He imagined the inside of Nezumi's cabin was just as beautiful as the outside, comfortable and small in a way that made it welcoming and intimate. There was a little fence around the cabin, and peppered along the tiny walkway leading up to the wooden door were a series of vegetables with familiar scraps of fabric wrapped around the stalks, embroidered with runes of warmth and energy.

Shion froze at the edge of the fence.

Nezumi paused between the cabin and Shion, regarding him with a careful expression. His eyes flickered to the crops and plants, his shoulders squared as he waited for Shion to respond to... to the amazing, wonderful, incredibly kind thing he'd done.

"Are," Shion whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat, "are these my crops?"

"It wasn't difficult to move them," Nezumi replied with a shrug. "I know a green witch who accompanied me to your cabin and uprooted them. She suspended the enchantment and kept them alive as we transported them. Took a day, but they seem to have taken to the soil well enough."

Shion's hands trembled at his sides. He stared at the familiar scraps of fabric, his own work intermingled with the magic of the Mao tribe. He could feel the difference between their types of magic―but the more he breathed it in, the more he could sense the similarities between them. Shion's magic was amateur compared to the Mao tribes' spells, but with time, he would grow to be just as powerful, just as advanced with his abilities to create warmth and comfort.

Nezumi averted his eyes and looked at the sky, finding the clouds far more interesting than the dirt walkway he'd been nudging with his boot. "We weren't comfortable leaving your crops behind for the villagers to pick at. They didn't grow them, so they don't deserve access to them. Did you know your tomatoes have healing properties in them? You must have infused a bit of energy from your healing spells into the seeds, so the ones you plant are capable of easing pains. It's rather remarkable, really. The Elder was hoping we could study them, but I said he should wait to ask you, since you're the one who―"

Shion threw his arms around Nezumi's shoulders.

Nezumi went stiff at the contact, though Shion understood that it was more out of surprise than disgust. The scent of leather and warm jasmine washed over Shion as he burrowed into Nezumi's chest, his face resting against Nezumi's shoulder.

"Thank you," Shion said, the words running over his lips faster than he could form them in his head. He could feel the happiness swelling in his chest, bubbling up inside him until it was too much to contain. "Nezumi, I—I don't know what to say. Thank you. This is... this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. You went through all the trouble to bring my flower charms to me, and now this? I—" A laugh cracked out of his throat, a bit wobbly as tears blurred his vision. "I don't know how to thank you for this."

Nezumi's hands settled on Shion's shoulders and squeezed. He didn't pull him away, simply gripping him and assuring him through their minimal contact that he was safe now. For the first time in years, Shion didn't worry about what the next day would bring. He didn't fear his own abilities and what the villagers might think of him.

Here, in the Mao village, Shion could be himself. He wasn't strange. His abilities weren't bizarre or evil. The Elder was impressed with what Shion could accomplish, and here, in the Mao village, Shion felt a kinship with the villagers even though he hadn't met any of them. Like a shattered glass being pieced back together, Shion felt himself sliding into place, content in a way he'd never imagined.

Heat rumbled through Shion's body, tremors overtaking him. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the wind and replacing them with the pounding of his own heart. It was so loud, he barely heard it as Nezumi murmured, "You're welcome."


To Be Continued...