Flynn lied.
It made him feel terrible to do so, but he lied to everyone and holed himself up in his room. Said he was ill, that he needed rest. The only person who stood up for him was Yuri, and that only made him feel even worse. Flynn was ill… ill of heart.
I am the son of Phaeroh.
The truth had come abruptly. He had foolishly prayed; let it go openly, so that any god could hear it. Ironic that his own true 'father' was the one to answer. In what he thought was exhaustion was divine will, and Flynn had fitfully dreamed.
No. It was no dream. It was a visit from the god himself.
… to destroy the kingdom he loved.
Having received his son's prayer, Phaeroh had returned to the mortal coils and descended into his heart. There the truth was awakened—not planted; Flynn could feel it come alive in him like any part of his soul. The true soul, that of the youngest divine son of Phaeroh, Ba'ul.
Ba'ul had been given a holy mission by his bloodthirsty father, and satiated by the blood of the Princess Estellise, Phaeroh pulled Ba'ul from heaven and implanted his soul into the womb of the warrior-woman Judith. From her and Raven's union was a mortal boy born, of which they named Flynn. A mortal shell, carrying the holy soul and immense power of the young god Ba'ul… that was the truth of it.
It was a truth that made Flynn's heart a twisted knot of confusion and fear. For once in his life—this life—Flynn felt legitimate fear.
He tried to fight the truth, but once it was revealed there was no denying it. All of the victories, all of the amazing feats he had accomplished… they were due to the fact he wasn't truly human. And to the fact Phaeroh had orchestrated this war since his conception.
"It is soon time, my son," Phaeroh had said in the vision. "I had promised Zaphias victory within twenty-one years of receiving their princess' soul. By next winter, Dahngrest will fall by your hand."
"You're mistaken," Flynn argued. "This is my country. I love this kingdom!"
"Mortal rubbish. You remember your true name, your true form. Cast aside the alias of 'Flynn' in your heart, else it finds you dead. You are of mortal flesh now… you can die."
"Then strike me down," Flynn declared. "It's of your own flaw, father, that I love this kingdom more than the so-called heavens."
Phaeroh laughed. A part of Flynn didn't even flinch, for it knew that laughter well. But the human part, the real 'Flynn' part, recoiled in horror. Something about that laugh struck him in such a way it made him want to cower. There was power there… a power Phaeroh was not afraid to abuse.
"Either way you do this, Ba'ul, Dahngrest will fall." Phaeroh said simply. "You can end the suffering early or let this fruitless war of attrition continue."
Flynn's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"
Phaeroh laughed again, making Flynn's skin crawl. "You have been wasting time!" Phaeroh said triumphantly. "I have safeguard the Zaphians has per my promise bought by the blood of the princess. They slumber peacefully behind barriers of blastia and my own magic while you and Dahngrest bleed against phantoms."
Flynn fought the urge to take half a step back, but the shock still ran through him and gripped his heart. Phantoms? They fought phantoms—not real humans? But… phantoms could not bleed or cause others to bleed! "You're lying." He whispered. But deep down… Ba'ul knew.
Phaeroh was a god of war. Every element of it was his to manipulate, including the very participates. With a little blood and magic, Phaeroh was also a master of illusions. Every battle… for twenty years, every battle was false?
Maybe Flynn and Yuri won each battle… and maybe their casualty numbers were low. But for twenty years, just the amount of fights Flynn had fought, hundreds of citizens of Dahngrest had died. To phantoms.
For nothing.
And Flynn had led them all. He wasn't murdering Zaphians… he was murdering his own people, a few at a time.
"The Zaphians have been calling these 'The Sheltered Years.' Already Alexei is poised to conquer what remains after you're done." Phaeroh went on. "If you've humanly mercy, I suggest exercising it before Alexei does."
Even in his mind, Flynn could feel his heart ache, his hand coming up to press over his chest. Whose heart was it though? Flynn or Ba'ul?
"You lied." Flynn whispered. "The Princess… she wanted no more innocent blood to be spilled in this war… but you lied! Your promise… it's invalid, you did not adhere to the terms of the prayer!"
Phaeroh tipped his head a bit, then ruffled his wings. "Your mortal bindings are infuriating," the god muttered. "The idea of 'innocents' is subjective, Ba'ul. None will know what the princess meant, but either way you look at it, there are no innocents in war."
"Don't you even suggest that—"
"Every child raised in either nation will look down upon the other." Phaeroh interrupted. "Oh, don't give me that look. There are exceptions. But why would I value the few exceptions over the wellbeing of the whole? Everyone in Zaphias desires the downfall of Dahngrest in some fashion. Is that innocent? And Dahngrest is of no better."
"An end to the war does not mean a downfall of a nation." Flynn replied weakly. "Blood needn't run…"
"Zaphias will not rest easily until Dahngrest is annexed into their nation. And Dahngrest is the same. Do not attempt to lecture me on human virtues, Ba'ul—I know them and their hypocrisy well. There are no innocents in war. The prayer and promise stands, and you will destroy Dahngrest from the inside." Phaeroh's eyes narrowed. "You are foolishly entwined with your mortal self. Disobey me and I shall use that to my advantage."
Flynn's eyes widened and he stared at the massive bird, causing him to cackle again. "Yes, I am so very aware of your pathetic attachment to one of the Dahngrest princes. Know this, Ba'ul: fail the destiny I have given you and the prince shall become mine to torture for eternity. He'll be denied death and heaven, and you will watch. That is a promise."
"You… you can't…"
"He is an enemy of Zaphias and would gladly spill their blood. He is my enemy. So yes, I can." Phaeroh spread his wings wide, flapping once to lift off the imaginary ground. "Do not forget that I am a god of this world, Ba'ul! Even if you fail me, I will send one of your brothers or do this myself. And unlike you, I have no mercy."
Such conversations were becoming the normal between Flynn and Phaeroh in his sleep. The moment he lost consciousness, Phaeroh was there, reminding him. Taunting him.
Flynn could only fake illness for so long, and soon he was back amongst the people. The first one to be concerned was Yuri… it was always Yuri. Yuri always found him first, always noticed things about him first. How could Flynn be this Ba'ul, if Yuri was the other part of his soul?
Or was it… he was Ba'ul, and Yuri was the soul that was meant to be the actual child Judith and Raven had?
Such thoughts got him nowhere. Actually, no thought gave him any progress of what to do. He felt unworthy to be near Yuri now, especially since it was because of him the prince was now in danger. A danger Flynn couldn't compete with, protect him from. But Flynn had promised he'd never hurt Yuri.
Didn't he promise he'd love this country? To lead it to victory? Flynn wanted nothing more than to throw this so called 'holy mission' aside and do what he himself promised. But even if he managed to free himself from his mortal shell, Ba'ul was still not as powerful as his father. As it were, things were hopeless. If Flynn didn't do it, Phaeroh would destroy Dahngrest himself… and put Yuri into hell just to spite him.
Not only that, this war men and women were dying for was for nothing. A phantom of magic and aer, even the battle scenery was fabricated. Now that he knew, Flynn could see it as he kept up the charade; the bodies his sword cut through weren't real. Tiny, tiny little flaws he could now pick out that separated this falsehood from reality. These Zaphians weren't real. But those of Dahngrest who died? They did die.
Flynn wondered where those souls went. His pathetic ark of damnation…
Days past as he struggled with this knowledge, trying to outsmart Phaeroh in some way, but wrapped in the cradle of mortal flesh made him easy to read for a god. Phaeroh began to intensify the conflict, actually make the phantoms fight better. 'Alexei's last push' the Don had said.
Phaeroh's bloodthirsty schemes, Flynn thought.
Anger was one of the first emotions that finally came up under the confusion and fear. Flynn swept across a battlefield, cutting down phantoms with a viciousness seen only in monsters. Limbs flew off bodies, heads rolled, and what was formal fighting was becoming slaughter. Flynn let all of his rage out of these phantoms, imagining each one sent some message to Phaeroh. Maybe they did.
They certainly sent a message to those who believed these to be real people.
"You're scaring everyone," Yuri said, trapping Flynn in the command room. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I don't know." Flynn whispered, and the way he looked was enough to shake Yuri out of his own anger. "I'm so tired, Yuri… so tired. I've fought all my life in the same war… against the same people… I've tried so hard not to hate them all. That somewhere in that kingdom across the ocean there're good people…"
There are no innocents in war.
Yuri came around the desk, and very slowly wrapped his arms around Flynn's neck. At first the blond stiffened, almost withdrew, but the god in him was overtaken by the mortal soul's distress. There was a small whine out Flynn before he returned the embrace, pressing his face to Yuri's chest.
Yuri was going to say something. Maybe comfort him, but the words died when he felt wet warmth through his clothes. His dark eyes widened as he glanced down, noticing Flynn's shoulders shaking; the blond held him tighter and grabbed fistfuls of Yuri's vest. A moment later, the first sob came out, and Yuri could feel his heart shatter.
The air only held the sounds of Flynn's soft crying and Yuri's softer words of comfort, the prince's fingers gently combing through Flynn's hair. It was pathetic… so damn pathetic, but Flynn was soothed by Yuri's touch, his words. This man was special… he was good. Maybe not innocent, but he was good, something Flynn didn't want to lose; Yuri was Flynn's everything. Ba'ul might not benefit from him, but Flynn… Flynn needed him.
Yet while Flynn chose Yuri and his love, Ba'ul was bound to his father's promise to the enemy. And in the end, Ba'ul knew any fate he gave to Dahngrest and Yuri would kinder than any Alexei or Phaeroh would.
Where were the days when love was holier than gods, where the bonds of the heart transcended that of immortality? Was it all just fairytale? Did such things truly exist? If there were no innocents, were there things like love?
There had to be. Flynn felt it so acutely with Yuri, especially now, held so lovingly like this. Phaeroh's promise bound him, but Flynn had his own promise.
"I love you." Flynn whispered when the tears finally subsided. "Forever… in life or death, Yuri. I'm yours."
Yuri wasn't sure what caused such strain on Flynn, but despite it, his reply had no hesitation. "I love you, Flynn—in life or death, always yours."
Flynn released him, rose to his feet and claimed Yuri's lips in a kiss. Full and deep, bursting with longing, love and despair; it scared Yuri, even as he returned the kiss and tried to take away the pain and replace it with his own love, his own hope and care. Yuri wasn't one to always be so vulnerable like this but for Flynn, in this moment, he had to be.
Flynn knew that… he knew and he cherished it while he could. Yuri was his precious soulmate… he'd do anything for him to keep him safe, to keep him happy.
After that, Yuri saw another change in Flynn. He was back to his usual self—smiles and love, care and attentive. His fighting was back to formal and caring of human life instead of pure slaughter, and he could have sworn the entire nation breathed a sigh of relief when Flynn returned looking as proud as he normally did. But even as everyone wanted to believe he was back to normal, Yuri couldn't. No one else was close enough to him to see it, but to Yuri, Flynn's eyes held the most change. They were full of determination, but different from the usual he had seen Flynn with. It was almost as if they were someone else's eyes.
Another battle came. Another battle won. Phantoms or not, Flynn led his armies with the same superb tactics and claimed yet another outpost just outside of Zaphias' home borders. He only lost five soldiers, and every single phantom was put to the sword. From the outpost he stared at the spires of Zaphias, seeming so close. Maybe Alexei could see him from there. Would he know who he truly was?
Even if he did… Flynn knew it mattered little.
At the peak of endless conflicts, he made up his mind.