The last hill was finally surmounted, and they were both rewarded with the vast deep blue waters softly reaching onto the snow-white sand where human sized black rocks jutted out from the tides.

Above them the sky stretched to the infinite horizon like a soft silken grey shroud, and a gentle breeze carrying salt brushed over them as they slowly made their way down the green-tufted hill to stand upon the sand.

“We should have brought Yulan and Yushu here,” he said as the tide washed over the black stones.

“Did you want to see if they could float?”

“Wh-!” He turned to face his companion, who hid a grin behind his fan. “No, I just think they might like it too.”

“Perhaps, Yulan would likely start scrutinizing everything from the tide’s movements to the granularity of the sand, but Yushu is the more lively one.”

“...Yeah he’d probably push her into the water to get her to enjoy it.”

“Bo,” the voice was soft and with a sigh, “I’m tired, lets sit down for a little while.”

“Sure thing!” Bo flopped unceremoniously onto the sand, flinching as the impact was a bit harder than he expected.

Rui Yifu sat down with much more grace, “it’s going to be bruised.”

“I’m used to that,” Bo grumbled.

The waters crawled further up the beach, moving up the sand. Crabs scuttled back to catch the waves and other little marine creatures were unveiled under the white waters. Bo and Rui Yifu had spent a long time traveling together, setting up a home in the Fish People’s City of Silent Waves to help build constructs to ensure the moon-bound entity’s influence could be safely hunted down without risk to the heavens or mortals. For several years they had brought along two of the constructs, the duo Yulan and Yushu, before bidding them farewell when they were capable enough to travel and fight on their own. Neither would admit it, but a few tears were shed.

They had seen the great towers made of bodies-turned-stone that had sprouted, and even toppled a few of them, Rui Yifu writing treatises on how to handle their malign influences until the time came that the heavens could strike the abominable architecture down.

They had traveled through the ruins of the Ancient Kingdom again and again, and made journeys through the broken remnants of the Four Kingdoms.

So much time had passed, and yet neither felt like it had been enough. It had not been enough to forget the whirling infinite chaos of the White Flame run amok, or of the horrors it stirred to frantic activity in the Ancient Kingdom. Nor had it been enough to fade the memories that came before. The journey they had all walked together, and now of whom only two still remained in the mortal world to remember. The sun was shining on them, warm but its brilliancy was only a reminder of another, briefer sun that once glowed, and a familiar gentle but nervous voice was still in the back of their minds. Someone whose fate had been doomed by a chance encounter.

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Bo’s empty eye socket still ached.

The silence was growing unbearable. “Do you think Boss knows about that one temple we saw?” Bo asked, “you know, with the weird bear-creature?”

“If he doesn’t now, I’m sure he will soon. It’ll be unfortunate for the temple,” Rui Yifu fanned himself slowly, wisps of greying hair fluttering about. “Maybe it’s a good thing we left when we did.”

“The pork belly was really good in that town though,” Bo protested, “I’ll be upset if I can’t have it again.”

“I liked the squid more,” Rui Yifu smiled, his thin lips splitting over the sharp teeth in his mouth. The slowly setting sun caught his dark eyes, reflecting in them as a bright light.

“Eugh, I’ll never get a taste for seafood,” Bo shuddered, “it’s so slimy and gross.”

“You like fish.”

“If it’s charred.”

Rui Yifu laughed, “so all you taste is the ash!”

“A dog is grateful for any food,” Bo shrugged, gently nudging away a too curious crab with his boot. “A dog’s grateful for just about anything.”

“It’s a good attitude to have, thankfulness,” Rui Yifu agreed softly, “even a shark can be grateful. Despite everything…”

“Despite everything…?”

“...If I was given the chance to try again, I wouldn’t take it. For all the bad, I’m still…” he paused for a moment. “I’m still grateful for what I’ve had.” He then set his fan in Bo’s lap, “hold this so it doesn’t get wet.”

“Why am I carrying your stuff all the time!?”

“You’re good at it,” the water was now at Rui Yifu’s boots. He reached towards the water, placing his hands in it and sighed softly again. “This is nice.”

Bo snapped open the fan dramatically to start fanning himself with it. “Actually with this, this isn’t half bad at all.”

“Bo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m tired.”

Bo scooted forward in the sand to sit right beside Rui Yifu, “use my shoulder again. I know you think it’s bony but I didn’t bring a pillow.”

“I don’t need one,” Rui Yifu mumbled, placing his head on Bo’s shoulder. His greying hair draped over Bo’s arm. He smelled like sea salt and jasmine flowers. “This is nice.”

He resolutely fought the urge to shudder, and placed the fan into his hidden pocket before putting one hand on the sand and the other one loosely around Rui Yifu’s hand. The skin was roughly textured, not callused, something different. “I’m glad I was useful for once!” Bo laughed quietly.

Rui Yifu’s laugh was a soft one, almost inaudible. His fingers curled around Bo’s for a moment as the tide washed over both their legs.

Only when the sun had risen again did Bo finally get up and turn away from the sea to walk back up the hill, leaving behind a solitary pair of tracks which vanished beneath the ceaseless tide.