They heard how Renor climbed on Ilya, and how both of them left. They heard the silence ringing in their ears so loudly, it took them a while to regain control.

It was as if lightning had struck them. Or at least, how they imagined it. Everything in their body hurt. Their head, their stomach, their lung, their heart. Their fingertips burned worse than they had hours ago. And for a long moment, they could not move. Not at all. They just stood there and listened to the ringing in their ears, eventually, it got replaced by the sound of rain, the feeling of hard raindrops on their face, their shoulders, their scalp. They stood, they hurt, they listened. And they hoped. Such an absurd hope it was impossible to ever speak of it. But they did it all the same. They hoped they would come back. They would agree to their plea and have a good laugh, and it would be fine. Everything would be fine.

But it wouldn’t be. Would it ever? Would there ever be the same friendship?

When Telassi had ascended, they knew that being the Andrush Vandrainor could be hard at times. But whenever they had felt lonely, Renor had been there. Through a letter, or a link. Or in person. Treating them all the same, laughing, joking. It had never been like this before.

Lexon put his face to theirs, trying to break them out of their thoughts, he shared his breath with them. The warm air brought a smile to their face, however fleeting.

Telassi felt rain running down their cheeks. It felt like crying.

Whatever was breaking and crumbling between Renor and them, both of them should have let it go a long time ago. They just hadn’t. And now it hurt all the more.

They felt Lexon tabbing inside their magic, creating a barrier to shield them both from rain and cold. They wished he hadn’t. Shivering felt right. Like they deserved even that very small suffering.

“When this is over”, they said, both to him and out loud for the world and the gods to hear, “… when this is over, we gave enough.”

… drip…

… trop…

… drip…

trop…

Something stirred in the darkness. A silhouette, small and wrong.

… drop… drop… trip…

The sound came closer, closer to the stirring.

…drip… drop…

… trip … trop…

And it went away again.

…trip … trop… drop… drip… trip … trip…

Was it coming closer again?

How long had it been? How long since there had been … sounds? Steps? Or were it water drops? Was there a difference? Steps… water… water steps…

So hard… focus…

… drop… drip… drop…

Water! Water drops!

Footsteps!

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But … where was the difference? There was one. Or … there had been one, once, right? Maybe there wasn’t one anymore.

But no, no water was life and footsteps were … not. Something else. They were something else. Not life. It was something else. But who could tell? That one sure couldn’t. ‘That one’. Yes, that one. It didn’t remember what it was, or if it had had a name. A name like ‘foot’ and ‘water’, a name like other things had. It felt as if it had such a name. But not right now. Right now, it was … that one. Fitting, nondescriptive, bland. That one.

And that one heard something. With ears or with holes it could not say. But it surely heard.

… drop… drip … drop … drip … trip … trop …

Water? Footsteps? Paws? Closer and then … away again. But it never left earshot. Up and down, far and close. That one listened for a while, with all its focus. Hoping, that if it only listened hard enough, the sound would come closer. But it didn’t. And curiosity could only keep that one’s mind in check for so long. And so it grew bored again.

With thoughts wandering above and beyond, one stuck. Where was ‘here’? That one couldn’t see. It wasn’t sure if it was surrounded by perfect darkness, or if it had no eyes to see, to begin with. But then it thought of “water drops” and it remembered something: tiny, clear pebbles, translucent, on top of green, flat, curved things in odd shapes. The clear pebbles were water drops. It did not remember the other thing’s name but the memory was still delicious.

So at a point, that one had been able to see.

Had it been able to move, too?

It wasn’t sure. It had watched people moving. Bodies mingling on stone surfaces, feet… that were feet. They looked funny. Who would have thought that a thing so funny would make such a strange noise?

But the movement in its memory did not seem right. Maybe it hadn’t been able to move, after all. Only to watch others moving. But someone had moved it here, without a doubt.

Hearing, seeing maybe. No moving, probably. What about … feeling? Had it been able to feel? Did it still feel? It wasn’t sure. How could one answer that question, anyway? If that one had been able to see, it might have seen something and might have been able to say that through touch, it could feel. But it could not tell if it was touching anything or nothing. It wasn’t even sure if it was comfortable right now.

All that worrying made it ache. And dizzy. So maybe it did feel… tired. Something started spinning. Its body started spinning slowly, dizzily. Its body turned and turned in the darkness, without moving at all.

Something pulled at the thoughts, away, far, far away. To warmth, to peace. That one’s mind floated away, through unending waves of warm, gentle darkness.

Away from the sound, the sound that was coming closer again.

It was no water, it noticed dimly.

Way too cold.

Someone else was satisfied, and greatly so. That one had not noticed them. Because they had made no noise, they had not moved. Their eyes had been fixed on the being, watched through binoculars and magic stones. And now they felt the pleasure all mortals felt when they controlled something beyond their understanding.

There was want to touch the strange skin. To feel it against their many digits. But they restrained themselves. It was imperative that the creature did not know anything about its surroundings.

So they just watched, studied that hideous face, that finally awoken face. Those teeth, those strange eyes.

After a while, they walked away. Mumbling to themselves. Ordering the guard to stop pacing, and find things to feet the creature with.