Archive of Our Own

Creatures were mindless beasts that wrought havoc wherever they went. They possessed no ego, and followed no orders. They could even manifest anywhere; and wherever they roamed, destruction would surely follow. Yet in the golden age of magic, they were little more than a nuisance, for they were easily vanquished by the magic sorcerers possessed. 

Back then, sorcerers had been aplenty. 

But as time passed, magic began to wane. The number of sorcerers dwindled and their power grew steadily weaker. In present time, sorcerers have become a rarity. Let alone one powerful enough to enter the palace. 

Thus, the news of a new sorcerer entering the palace spreads like wildfire. 

Amidst the noise, I cannot help but feel a vague sense of déjà vu. There would have been a similar scene all those years ago when Dream was discovered. Still, curiosity stirs in me. Dream would have already met the new recruit. As the court sorcerer, he’ll be the one to train her. I wonder if he’ll tell me what she’s like. 

I haven’t come face to face with her yet, but I will later, to present her with her staff. I’ve already received the order to craft it for her.

It is with this goal in mind that I enter the forge. 

The heat has always been the worst part. It crawls under the skin, settles in the marrow. Unfortunately, it’s an inescapable part of any forge. 

Even back then in my father’s cramped space, the unbearable heat had been enough to make me find every excuse not to train beside him. Though back then the heat had been more of an issue because of the burns. Being so inexperienced meant frequently getting burned. At least now, it’s just discomforting. The larger forge helps. Light stains every surface in shades of gold and rust. Tools hang in neat rows on the walls. 

Normally they’d be scattered across the worktable, but that space is currently occupied by the mass covered by deceptively clean cloth.

I let out a small sigh. Within its coverings, the body rests still against the table. 

This, would have once been a sorcerer. 

In the body of a sorcerer who has breathed their last, only magic remains. It is this magic that necessitates the usage of the body. 

In the waning age of magic, mankind devised a way to strengthen the remaining sorcerers: by processing a sorcerer's corpse and crafting it into a staff, the wielder's power would be brought to its peak. 

The same technique has been used to process each body; the same technique I’ve learned. The blood is mixed with herbs, and left to solidify. The heart is sliced thin and dried. The bones are baked, ground, and refined into a fine powder—to be used as material for the staff. 

Through this, the dead sorcerer is reborn as a powerful staff: and the next sorcerer to be born takes that staff into their hand. 

I make sure this one in particular is smaller, easier to wield; I hear the new sorcerer to be very young. It might be cumbersome to handle a full-sized staff at that age. 

That doesn’t mean it’s any less powerful. It is the residual magic that gives a staff power, not size or length. 

It takes a long time until the staff is complete, partially because the process is time-consuming, partially because Dream keeps interrupting it. He keeps sneaking in and giving me a heart attack! Stop coming here, I’ve said more than once. What if you get hurt?

Aw, you do care about me! Would be his predictable response. He’d never come empty-handed, either: a tray of warm bread, a mug of spiced tea, a plate of golden-brown pastries; the list went on. 

I’m very much relieved when the staff is completed. 

***

My first impression of the new sorcerer is that she’s incredibly young. She looks even younger than Dream when he entered the palace. Next to him, her head barely makes it up his waist.

I look at her, and suddenly I don’t know what to say. “Uh.”

She, in turn, glances to Dream. Dream gently nudges her towards me and says, “Say hi to Cross, Lux!” 

Lux. So that’s her name? She meets my gaze, and quietly says hi.

“Hello, Lux.” Somewhat awkwardly, I turn the staff over to her. Her small fingers curl around it tentatively, and she looks to Dream again.

“This is mine?”

Dream smiles warmly. “Just for you.”

He doesn’t look at me, then. I know he’s thinking the same thing I am, but neither of us say it. One day in the vague future, Lux will receive a new staff. When Dream dies, I will be the one to forge him into a staff—and I will be the one to place it in her hands. 

Dream finally turns his gaze on me; as always, his eyes are warm and untroubled. “See you later!” Then he turns to Lux. “Shall we practice?”

See you later, not goodbye, which means I’ll likely find him in the forge again later. I bite back a sigh. 

“See you,” I say quietly. 

“—also, I counted. Do you know how many metal scraps you left near the stairs?” He holds up two fingers, then hesitates. “Well, technically I only saw two before I tripped, but I’m sure there were more waiting to assassinate me.” Dream sighs as though deeply aggrieved. 

I sigh in turn, and try to ignore him. It’s impossible to keep him out. He used to sneak in (scaring the life out of me) but now he doesn’t even bother to pretend to. These days he just strides in outright. I try to focus on my work, but it’s becoming increasingly clear that it’s impossible to work when he’s in the room.

“And can you believe what that old geezer said just now? ‘You have a drinking problem.’ Because I drank one cup of wine! One! Don’t you think it’s too much of him?”  

I shake my head in disbelief. One cup is a marked improvement from how much he used to drink—but even then, it’s not even noon yet. “Don’t call the head of the senate old geezer.”

Dream beams in the corner of my eye. “So you are listening!”

I decide to stop replying, but it’s too late. He’s behind me. Warm hands wrap around my waist, and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. His breath warms my neck. Unfortunately then he’s already warming to the next point, spinning another tale of imagined indignities—this time, he goes on a tangent about how unreasonably warm the workshop is. The longer he speaks, the brighter the spark in his eyes gets. 

Silently, I try to refocus on the scrap in my hands, trying, and failing to tune him out. Eventually, I give up. “Why would the great court sorcerer even bother coming to this dusty workshop in the first place?”

He grins. His breath tickles my neck. “Oh, come on, don’t be so uptight! You know why, you grump.”

“Hah…” I sigh. I do. “Okay, fine.’

I wipe my hands on a rag, open the door to the stairwell, and gesture for him to go first. But Dream only tilts his head expectantly. So, with another sigh—because he’ll never let me hear the end of it otherwise—I take his hand as I lead him up the stairs.

We enter the room I know he’s here for. “It’s just a cramped storage room with broken glass,” I mutter. 

He nudges me in turn. “Don’t you think it’s pretty? Even cracked, the stained glass still holds such a nice colour. And the ocean looks the best from up here! The wind’s perfect, too, so nice and breezy.” As Dream speaks, he approaches the cracked stained glass, and I tug him back.

“Don’t touch it! I know it’s been reinforced, but still.”

He laughs, but acquiesces. “Yes, sir.” He sits down just next to it. I watch as he gazes through the fractures, watching the crashing waves below. 

Dream draws his power from the sea. This is why he cannot live away from the coast, and why I cannot be apart from it either. 

I take a seat next to him. “Do you seriously come here just to sightsee? There are better spots.”

“Like the cliff down there?” He tilts his head. “I like it too. But I come here to see you.”

My chest tightens. Before I realize it, I’m leaning in, drawn toward him, and for a heartbeat, it feels like we might—

Dream’s head snaps slightly to the side. “Oh, right! Have you tried these before?” 

I almost slip, and I cough. “Uh, what?”

“Stained glass cookies!” He pulls out a pouch from his pocket and all but shoves them to me. “Brought them ‘cause they reminded me of this window! Pretty, aren't they?” 

I watch as he pops one into his mouth. “Aren't these just some plain old jam cookies?”

“It's not jam, it's candy, so it's see-through. Cool, right?” He leans closer, brushing his shoulder against mine. There’s a playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, sure,” I murmur, distracted. My fingers twitch as I fumble with the pouch. “That is very cool…”

Our eyes meet, he pulls me close, and we kiss. Sweetness erupts on my tongue as the cookie in his mouth passes to mine. He pulls apart from me, and smiles. “Sweet, right?”

“...Yes.” My heart hammers in my chest. Then he has me again. There’s the sweet taste of candy, and the taste of blood— oh, I’ve cut my tongue on the candy. 

Dream. It's been six years since we reunited. Yet every moment with you still feels like being submerged in the sea. It all leaves me utterly breathless. 

***

I stand before the cracked stained glass, fingers hovering just inches from the fractured surface. Morning light filters through the breaks in pale, uneven shards; some edges are as sharp as teeth. Reinforcing it further won’t be simple, but Dream still likes to sit here. There has to be some way to make it safer. Maybe if I reinforce the lower section? But the upper might then collapse. Maybe—

A faint murmur rises from below. I pause. Voices from the workshop thread their way up to me.

“…How can I become better?” Lux’s voice drifts up first, small and faint.

“Huh?” The noise of confusion is from Dream. “Lux, you’re already the greatest sorcerer on the continent."

A pause. Then Lux again, quieter: “Even so… I have to get better. I need to be useful.”

My breath snags. 

“Why’s that?” 

“If I’m not,” Lux says, “no one will be by my side. Even you, Dream. You’re only teaching me because they say I’m exceptional.”

“That was just the reason we met,” he says gently. “I’m by your side because you’re Lux.”

“...I don’t quite understand.”

Dream laughs faintly, the sound drifting upward. I straighten, turning slightly toward the stairwell. Their voices carry clearer now as they climb.

“You are an extraordinary sorcerer,” he says, “but you’re also simply Lux. And that’s enough.”

Then they enter. Lux steps through first. Dream follows right behind her. His eyes snap to me. “Aw, you’re here, Cross?” 

I straighten instinctively. My hand falls from the cracked stained glass. “...hi, Lux.”

Lux nods slightly. “Hi, Cross.”

I try to smile at her. My face doesn’t quite cooperate, but it manages something small, if the approving look Dream sends me is any proof. 

“Are you busy, Cross?” he asks, leaning forward a little, as if trying to peer around me to see what I’d been doing to the window.

“Not really,” I murmur. “Why?”

“Great! You can help me convince dear Lux of something.”

My eyes flick to Lux. She’s watching me politely, fingers loosely curled around her staff, shoulders tucked in as though trying not to intrude.

Carefully, I look back to Dream. “Of what?”

“I was telling her how a sorcerer can speak to their staff. Well, not really talk, but you can feel it! She won’t believe me,” he sighs.

Yeah. One glance at the skeptical look on Lux’s face confirms that. 

I bite back a smile. “It’s true. I’ve seen him do that.”

Lux’s eyes widen slightly. I empathise. The first time Dream told me about it, I was creeped out as hell. 

“Wait, the sorcerers are alive in the staff?!”

“Of course! They even know all the grumbling you do while crafting.”

“What?! No, I swear I’ve been really polite!”

“I’m just kidding, haha. How would the dead know about that? It’s more so of… lingering thoughts. Lingering feelings. People breathe, right? If someone breathes on you, you feel the warmth of it. It’s the same way with staffs. That warmth is what we feel.”

“Ah! Right!” It startles both of us when he claps. “Cross, I’m leaving her with you for a bit.”

I blink. “...What?”

He waves a hand breezily. “I need to go meet with the senate. Nothing major, but Lux needs someone responsible to keep an eye on her.”

I frown, then I remember Lux is in the room. “Dream. It’s not safe—”

“Besides, you two get along! Don’t you?”

She gives a small shrug, but awkwardly adds, “It’s fine. I don’t… require guarding.” 

“Of course you don’t,” he says. He moves to ruffle her hair. “But Cross worries about everything, so if I leave you with him, at least he’ll get off my back.”

I choke. “Dream—”

He grins at me, bright and utterly knowing. “See you!” He flutters dramatically toward the door. I gape at him, realising belatedly I should probably stop him, but then he’s gone. I look at Lux, she looks back at me.

“I… uh…”

Lux tilts her head slightly. “Can we actually talk with the staff? Or were you just saying that to agree with him?”

“I—” I’m so caught off-guard that I laugh. “Well, I have seen him try. I’m not a sorcerer, though, so I can’t say for sure that that’s what he’s doing.” 

“Oh.” I entirely can’t tell what she makes of this, but she does look slightly downcast. “I tried, but I can’t. Maybe I’m not good enough.”

Oh. Something pricks at me after hearing that. “If it bothers you, maybe I can take a look at it downstairs?”

She pauses, then gives a small shrug, and hands me the staff. We head down, though a part of me wonders if it’s safe to have a child in the workshop. 

She goes to sit silently in a corner. That helps somewhat to assuage my worries. I go through whatever I can.

My mind drifts away as I do. 

If I was being completely honest, I don’t know if he is telling the truth.

(If he is, when the inevitable day comes, there might be something left of Dream within the staff made of him. A sigh from the dead... what might his sigh tell me, that he won’t now?)

But I am no sorcerer. These are all just useless thoughts.

All I can do is stay by his side as long as he allows. Hoping that the moment when I must touch his cold skin with my own hands is delayed, even by a single day.

When I’m done, I turn back to Lux. “Judging from the past crafting records, from the metal’s texture, and the finished shape, this staff contains as much sorcerer's remains as Dream’s. There's nothing wrong with it.” I pause. “Since you're here, though, I went ahead and polished it.”

“I see.”

…Should I be really talking about this with a kid? What was I like at that age? Oh, right, I would've been shaking just at the sight of a grave…

“Then, is it thаt the sorcerers inside the staff don't approve of me?”

I sigh, and bend down slightly so I’m closer to her level. “Lux,” I say carefully. “I'm not a sorcerer, so I don't have all the details, but the cases of actually communicating with a staff are rare to begin with. Drea— his excellency himself said what he experiences isn’t so much a conversation, and more like a feeling. And in any case, he’s an unusual one.”

She goes quiet for a while. When she speaks again, her voice is soft with curiosity. “How long have you known him?”

“We met in the palace a few years ago.” I smile wryly. “But before this, we grew up together in a remote village by the crashing waves.” 

Back when we were still small and young. I, the child of a stubborn blacksmith who couldn't sell anything. You, living in a monastery with no parents of your own. 

But soon your power revealed itself to the populace. Soon there came people looking for you, hunting for you. We both saw the soldiers coming. So you took my hand, and we fled. We fled far, far away, following the coastline. 

I thought we’d continue along this path forever. 

But a few nights later, you let go. With a single goodbye, you walked away from me and went with the soldiers. You wouldn’t listen to anything I said. 

‘They don’t see sorcerers as humans! Just tools! They just want you, to use you—’

You only looked at me one final time. ‘So? We don’t have anywhere to go.’

Then you were gone. The soldiers went away. I had to quietly return home to a furious father. The nights passed in a flurry of raised fists. 

The next time I saw you was when I became the palace’s staff crafter. 

“How was he like, back then?” Lux’s voice snaps me back to reality. I pause. Technically, Dream said to pretend we never met before the palace, but somehow I doubt he’ll begrudge me this. Lux just wants to be distracted from her worries. 

So, I acquiesce. “I would find him near the cliff. He liked the waves, even then.”

How simple those days were. I’d find you there, and we’d have nothing else to do but talk.

“Oh, hey! You helped out at the forge again today, huh?” 

“Mm.” There was soot on my hands.

“Are you going to become a blacksmith when you grow up?” He tilted his head, eyes bright, teasing smile tugging at his lips.

“…No. I want to make smaller things.” I mumbled.

“Like trinkets?”

“…Something like that.” My face began to heat up as I reached into my pocket. “...Anyway, this is a practice piece. It’s a bit clunky, but I remembered you like conch shells.” 

His eyes were wide with wonder when he saw the clumsy conch-shell earring I’d made.

“Woah—a conch! You actually made this, Cross? That’s amazing! Wait, this is mine? This is so cute! Am I going to hear the waves if I hold it to my ear? It’s so pretty! And shiny! Thank you!” He went on and on as he held it up to his ear. 

“Hey, wait, how on earth do you say so much at once?!” 

“Oh, I do hear the waves!” he exclaimed again.

“That’s because we’re sitting by the ocean!” 

“Ahaha, no, really! I hear it!” 

“We separated after he entered the palace, though.” I shift from side to side. She still looks slightly downcast, so I try to put her at ease with a smile. “As for you, you have your first creature hunt soon, right? I’m sure you show your abilities there—”

“Yes,” she suddenly says. “Yesterday.” 

Her eyes seem to reflect nothing.

“They said that I landed a critical blow on the leading creature. Apparently even Dream hasn’t been able to do that.”

Her eyes dig into mine. I stare, and stare.

“If I am truly more skilled than him, I should be able to sense the sighs of the sorcerers within the staff as well.”

***

It’s true. Everywhere I turn, I hear about it.

“Lux has done it!”

“The creatures rage more than ever, but this would be their death throes!”

“She is far more skilled than Dream! Dream could only barely hold them back from crossing the border!”

“Where has a talent like that been all this time?”

“With Lux and Dream together, now stands the final hour!”

“We shall finally be liberated from the tyranny of the creatures!”

Both Dream and Lux seem to be pretending to be deaf, though, as they head to their next hunt. I watch as they leave, Dream smiling as bright as ever, and Lux generally seeming at ease. I can’t take my eyes off them, my hands folded over the railing. Magic warps around them, and soon they’ll be away. 

“Yikes…” Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone a short distance away back up from the railing. 

The person next to him nudges him. “Hey, cut it out.” 

He waves his hands, pointing vaguely. “What? They have magic too, so they’re like the creatures, aren’t they?” 

“Come on, they’re heroes.”

“They’re not human anyway.”

This asshole—I open my mouth, but I go silent when I notice the person standing next to me. I quickly bow. “Senator Marcus.”

He smiles vaguely when he sees me. “Ah, the staff crafter. I trust you keep their staffs in top shape?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good! Especially for Lux. She's a once-in-a-generation genius! Isn't it so exciting? Imagine how amazing she'll be on this hunt!”

“Haha, yes… I agree.” I try to plaster an amenable expression on my face. 

He doesn’t even look at me, though, as he continues, “If the creatures disappear for good, that would be a dream, no? Though then you might end up as a jewelry maker rather than a staff crafter.” He pauses, and finally glances my way. “Or, perhaps a young lad like you has some other things in mind? 

When I look back down, Dream and Lux are gone.

“...No, not really,” I hesitantly reply.

If the creatures are to be gone soon, could Dream finally step down? Would he finally leave? Could we finally leave?

Even as the senator walks away, I stand there silently. 

Dream. When you left me, I went back to my father knowing what awaited me. There was no other path. I had to become a good blacksmith—no, a better one than my father. I had to leave the village to master my craft. I had to learn how to make staffs from sorcerers. I had to attain the qualifications of a staff crafter. All so I could be admitted into the palace. 

All so I could see you again.

You pretended not to know me, at first. You said I was broody, laughed again, and wished me good luck while getting my name wrong. It had been years, I knew you might not remember me. I let it all pass.

Then you said something about not thinking the job suited me. I noticed, then, that you were still wearing the clumsy conch-shell earring. I reached out, and touched it.

You glanced to the side, gazed back at me, and gently smiled. It was a smile that revealed nothing. 

‘Let’s just say we never knew each other. I’m no longer the orphan on the cliff. You understand, right?’

“...Of course.” I let go of the earring. After all, you deserved so much more—

“Whoa!” You grasped my hand. “Your hands got all knobby and tough. Are these from burns? That must have hurt… are these scars, too? Oh, and the nails are all black around the edges!”

I remember flushing, thinking you talked just as much as you did as a child. “That can't be helped! Sorry, I guess.”

“Aha…” You brought my hand to your cheek, and kissed it. 

From the moment we reunited, till now, you never tell me anything. When I asked why you left when we were little, you said you just wanted a carefree life in the palace. When I asked why you pretended not to know me, you brushed it off with a ‘people forget things sometimes, you know?’

You claim to live carefree, but are covered in wounds left by the creatures. What’s more, you still wear the clumsy little earring made by a child?

I really can't make sense of your heart. 

Even then, in the moment, when I quietly asked you never to let go of my hand again, you simply gazed at it. You never said a word more. 

***

Just as I knew I would, I find Dream upstairs, near the stained glass window again despite the pouring rain. There’s something in his face I can’t read that retracts the moment he sees me. 

“Oh, Cross…” he smiles unevenly, and I know he’s drunk immediately. 

“Didn’t you say you were going to stop drinking?” I sigh. “Why didn't you cover the window with something? You're gonna get a cold.”

He chuckles. “Oh, there’s no point. Besides, the stormy sea looks so cool!” He gestures vaguely at the crashing waves below.

I sigh again. There’s no reasoning with him. So I shrug off my coat and drape it over his shoulders, tucking it around him as best I can. 

Dream shifts under the coat but doesn’t move away. “Hm… always fussing over me,” he says playfully.

For a moment, I want to say nothing. Just as always, his presence submerges me completely—I want this moment to last forever. 

But it can’t. I speak before I lose my nerve.

“They say if Lux gets stronger, she could wipe out all the creatures on the continent. Is that true?” 

Dream looked surprised. “I suppose it’s possible.” 

“Then… if the creatures really do disappear, they won’t need a court sorcerer anymore, right? That… when that happens…” Stop stuttering! “Uh, I mean, only if you’re okay with it, but would you leave, with me— leave this place—” 

Crack.

Glass shatters from the cracked stained window behind him. Reflexively, I throw myself over Dream as the pieces rain down on us. He gasps in my ear; a sharp fragment slices across my cheek.

“Cross—”

His voice cuts off as I wrap myself around him. I carefully look up, but that’s it. No more pieces are falling. The stained glass hasn’t completely shattered, but jagged cracks have spiderwebbed across the remaining glass.

“I tried to patch it up so it wouldn’t break any further, but there must be cracks where you can’t see. I guess it’ll keep falling apart over time.” 

 “...Cross.”

“Are you alright?” I reach for him, but he pulls back.

“Cross!” His eyes are cold and hard. “I would’ve been fine without your help, but you could have been seriously hurt!” 

I freeze. Suddenly the cut on my cheek stings a lot more. The air around us thrums as his magic erupts, pressing against my skin, my hair, my chest. 

“I’m the second-strongest sorcerer on the continent. I could’ve— why the hell did you get hurt protecting me?”

My mouth opens, but I don’t know what to say. His hard gaze hammers into me as he rushes to his feet. My hands twitch; I want to reach out, to pull him close, to shield him—but he seems so far, an eternity away. 

There’s the rumble of thunder. Behind, the stained glass seems to catch the light in broken patterns. So much of it has shattered that it easily reveals the storm raging outside. It occurs to me, then, that the face inscribed within it has long been lost. 

Then everything leaves me. The shame, the panic, the hurt. I feel, strangely, nothing as I look at him, and he looks at me. 

You haven’t said anything, but I think the figure in the stained glass was one of the sorcerers mixed into your staff.

She was adorned in beauty and praise, yet in the end has been shattered and forgotten.

Will this also happen to you?

“Goodbye, Cross—”

I lower my gaze to the ground. “Yes, I know. You’re His Excellency, the royal court sorcerer.” I sink to my knees. When I lift my gaze again, the hardness in his gaze has given way to surprise. “You have been protecting the kingdom for over a decade. So why can’t I want to protect you?” 

Gently, I take hold of his free hand. Dream doesn’t pull away, but his hand trembles in mine. For a heartbeat, he’s silent. 

Then he sighs. “I’m sorry, Cross. I don’t intend to live for you.” He turns aside. There is not a trace of lightness in his face or voice. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.” 

But even as he turned away, he didn’t let go of my hand. 

 “You always say that.” A smile cracks across my face. “Then I will stay here forever. I belong at your side.” I lift his hand to my lips and press a kiss to his palm. “This, is where my fate lies.”

The tension in his face breaks, and Dream smiles shakily. “Cross— you fool.” His hand touches my cheek, brushes over the fresh cut. The warmth of the touch sends a shiver through me. He leans in, forehead almost touching mine. 

He holds me, I hold him— and we kiss. His eyes close, but I can’t seem to follow. The warmth of his touch burns me to my very core. 

One day, you will turn cold. Every time I touch you, fear consumes me. 

The fear of touching your cold, lifeless body.

What will I do, then? 

***

The next day, Dream returned as a corpse. 

I have been given my orders. “Dream gave his life battling the creatures. You will spare no effort in crafting him into a staff for Lux.” 

He has been placed on the worktable, covered by the same white sheet. The familiar curve of his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head—it’s all visible despite the wrappings. Beneath the sheet, he must look peaceful. Serene, as if he is merely sleeping.

I can’t bring myself to remove the sheet. 

Each time I saw him return from a hunt, I’d think— he’s alive, he’s still alive, will he be alive tomorrow? I’d find him lying in a corner, covered in blood. I’d reach for him with shaking hands, thinking is he dead? Then he’d shoot up, grinning, “You thought I was dead, huh?” 

I’d stumble back, barely swallowing an expletive. “You— ugh, seriously?” 

He’d laugh, and laugh. “Sorry, sorry, I just fell asleep after the hunt! ”

I’d sputter, “Here?!”

Then you’d hold me, and lift a hand to my wet eyes. “Don’t cry! I’m fine, I promise.” 

“You— of course I’m crying! You bastard! You scared the life out of me!”

But not a sound is leaving you now. You aren’t stirring. I want to call your name, if there’s even the chance that it’ll wake you, but I can’t make a sound. 

Now, the moment has come to pass. So it’s come at last. 

In the body of a sorcerer who has breathed their last, only magic remains. Their blood is mixed with herbs, and left to solidify. The heart is sliced thin and dried. The bones are baked, ground, and refined into a fine powder to be used as material for the staff. 

And in the end— I lurch back. I can’t even speak, but I’m trembling. I know what you must look like under that sheet. I know what awaits me, I know my task, but I can’t do anything but shake.

I can’t stay here. I rush out of the forge, I don’t know where to go, I stumble up the stairs, and I’m still shaking. It’s only when I see the cracked stained glass that I realise where I am. 

It was only yesterday that you held me here. It was only yesterday that I swore never to leave your side. 

The broken pieces of glass stab into my feet as I approach the stained glass. It’s broken down even more. Fragments—no, shards—are scattered at the base. There’s one the size of my palm. Didn’t I clean this earlier? Dream could get hurt—

The ocean breeze drifts up from the sea. Even from here, it fills up my lungs. It smells so much like him.

Why am I still breathing when Dream is gone?

I don’t know how long I stay here. I can’t bring myself to move. It’s when I hear voices that I vaguely remember how easily sound carries up from the workshop.

“Oh, where’s the crafter? He should be here making Lux’s staff.” 

“He’ll be here soon, senator.”

Shut up. The thought seems to come from the gaping void within me. I feel nothing, not even the shards stabbing into my feet. In the moment I exist as nothing more than a pair of hands and a pair of eyes.

“Anyway, what a relief. If a sorcerer’s contaminated by a creature, securing usable parts for a staff gets nearly impossible…”

“Yes. It’s all thanks to Dream. If he hadn’t agreed to disguise his death and take his own life, we may have never had this chance.” 

My hands stop shaking. 

“Well, he’s always acted to protect the people around him. He came to the palace in the first place to protесt this very crafter.” 

My eyes stop moving. 

“Really? They knew each other?”

“He initially refused the palace summons and ran off. Of course, sorcerers are hard to catch, but with a child by their side? Not so difficult. Once the soldiers told him as such, he quietly came on his own.”

My eyes won’t move from the palm-sized glass shard. My hands move. I can’t think.

“But the same child entered the palace too? My. I’m glad he didn’t cling to life because of him.”

The edge of the glass shard bites into my palm. My legs move me; the voices grow louder. 

“Indeed, indeed. If we just wait for Lux to grow up, Dream could get damaged during a hunt. Think of the losses we’d face!”

My legs carry me closer, closer. 

“Thank goodness. So long as Dream is made into a staff for Lux now, we’ll finally see the dawn of an era with neither sorcerers nor creatures.”

“Yes, a true age of humanity!—”

I lunge. There’s noise, then nothing. They fall to the ground. There’s red everywhere. It should be blood, but I smell nothing. 

Red on white. I realise, then, that it’s spilled onto his coverings. Suddenly the harsh smell rushes back to me, and I choke. I fall to my knees. 

Dream rests silently on the table. From here, he seems an eternity away. 

“Dream…” I can finally speak, but all I can say is his name. “Dream—” 

I should never have let go of your hand yesterday. I should’ve done whatever I could so you could’ve left. Even if all my bones shattered and my worthless blood was drained, we should have left this place.

Why don’t you ever tell me anything? You’re going, so you tell me goodbye and leave me behind in the village. I followed you here, but where am I to go now? You say goodbye again, and you leave me behind again. What am I to do?

I haven’t told you. What I’ve wanted to make since I was a child wasn’t some crudely made earring or a staff. It was a ring for your finger.

A sob wrenches out of me. 

I haven’t been able to tell you…

I take hold of you, and I run. 

It is raining. I run mindlessly, I can’t quite grasp it. The world has turned upside down, yet you sleep calmly, as calm as the sea after the rain. How strange, that rain still falls from the sky. How strange that the stone walls haven’t crumbled. How strange that the sea isn't the least bit dry.

There is still blood everywhere. It runs down my path like a river. All around me, people seek to take you from me. Everyone is screaming and yelling. 

“Don’t touch it! We can’t damage her remains, be careful—”

You're dead, yet the world hasn't collapsed. 

Did you die for a world like this? Did you die for someone like mе?

In the body of a sorcerer who has breathed their last, only magic remains.

“No!” How can there be nothing left of you?! Not your bright ringing laughter, nor your gentle warmth, not even your playful words…

I’ve stopped. I don’t understand why, why my hands haven’t cleared my path, when I recognise Lux before me.

Her face is as impassive as ever. In her hands is the staff I crafted—the staff she points at me, now.

“The soldiers went to block the exit, but I knew you'd head for this cliff,” she says quietly. “Because he always gazed out at the sea here from up there.” Something in her face tightens. “Why are you taking him? Do you want the sorcerer's power as well?" 

“What?” I can’t help but laugh. Her eyes widen, and again, her confusion is clear as day.

“No,” I breathe. “None of that matters at all.”

It is then that I realise the tears slipping down my face. 

“Whether you're exceptional or not, a genius or a fool, haha!” I laugh again. Have I gone mad? “It doesn't matter. You’re Lux. And he was Dream. He wasn’t the second-strongest sorcerer to me… he was just Dream.” 

And then I hear noise. Clambering footsteps, angry shouts, and I know they’ll soon catch up with me. 

“There he is!”

“Murderer!”

But Lux’s shaking voice drowns them out. “He was a kind… and warm person…” Her impassive mask finally breaks, and the grief wears itself so clearly on her as she lowers her staff. “When I—” she sobs, “when I die, will I also find someone who calls me ‘Lux’, not just a staff?”

Lightning splits the sky open. 

“Of course. You also call Dream, Dream, don’t you?”

Then— Lux’s eyes widen as I push her aside, she reaches for me, but my arms wrap around Dream. The ground below—no, the cliff—has split, and I fall. 

I hear Lux’s cry, but then there’s something else. A strange sensation overtakes me, the wind whistling in my ears, as Dream and I fall. 

I’m sorry, I think, but I can't give you to Lux. Your heart, your bones, your blood— they will go not to the king, not to the people, not to any sorcerer. 

I will return all of you, to the sea.

And with sudden clarity, I understand what you meant. The very breath cooling my anger, my fear, my hate—what you called a sigh, the residue the dead leave for the living—I feel it too, now. Your sigh, your breath, everything left of you, pouring into the void within me. 

This must be you.

Now, more than ever—I feel you. 

How could I tell you? 

How happy I was when you reached your hand out to me. 

How astonished I was when you made it all the way from a remote village to the palace. 

How endearing you are when you flush. 

All I ever talk about is about you. I locked myself away in the palace for you, but didn't I end up locking you up here as well? 

You never wanted to craft staffs. You'd tense up when we even passed a graveyard. You’d shake at just the sight of a grave. How long did it tаkе before you could touch a corpse as if it was nothing?

And someday, it will be my body you must touch. 

I know you will cry. I know your hands will shake. The image breaks me, yet I’m sorry to say it also pleases me.

I must not live for you. But all I want to do, Cross, is die for you. I must think beyond the death that awaits me, to imagine your gentle touch on my body. Then the icy fear within me takes on a strange warmth—I find my resolve, anchoring down in joy. 

Joy, that you will never know.

***

“It's already been days! Are we really never going to find that murderer?!

“...Whether he escaped alive, or drowned in the sea…”

“Dream nobly sacrificed himself for the people, and he betrayed such a selfless heart!”

“Search every inch of the coast! Why does such a disaster have to happen now?!”

The afternoon sun bore down on all that had happened. Far away from the chaos, on the cliff, stood a solitary figure. 

Lux looked down into the waves that had consumed the two. 

There were no tears left in her. No one, though, was paying much attention to her now. She looked down at her own staff. Even now, she could not grasp the sighs of the sorcerers within. 

Her eyes shut. Even here, far above the tumultuous sea, the crash of the waves echoed in her ears. 

For a moment, she thought she heard laughter—then a sigh, from within the echo.