YUVEN

"Hello, Miesero... this is ridiculous but it's not like I'm doing anything else." He squeezed Neven's clammy hand, where every moment he swore a twitch continued to be his response — hopeful, naive. Yuven directed his words towards the end table then Neven himself. "I'm... going to be seeing if I can't get my hands on the dawnblade. I think there is something strange about it." His next breath lodged in his throat, but he forced himself to continue regardless. "Ever since my near death to the Corruption, I felt something change in Fenrer's magick that I am certain wasn't there before. It doesn't make sense. He was never a firecore." He doubled forward in thought, refusing to let go of Neven's hand in fear that it would spell his death. "Something isn't adding up."

Neven remained still and limp.

"Did you notice?" Yuven asked him, not expecting an answer, and there was none. He looked over Neven, stopping at his ruined legs. Hand outstretched, he rested his hand on it, then squeezed with caution. Neven gave no reaction to it. Released, Yuven bit on his tongue and whispered, "I guess I should be glad you aren't feeling a thing." But whatever is happening with Fenrer, the dawnblade is involved. Out of his chair, his knees locked from how long he sat there waiting for Neven to keep his promise. I need to figure this out. Around the bed after forcing himself to release Neven's hand, he went to the other side, always faltering right at the edge. "I'll be... right back." It took much of his strength to leave the room, to descend onto the other bedroom's level. Hopeful that Adara took Fenrer out on a walk, it proved effective, the room was empty.

There it was, the dawnblade. Yuven headed over to it, a ripple in his blood. Hand outstretched, he pressed the tip of his finger against it. In a burst of fire, he drew back with a hiss at the tingle on his skin. He checked it, raising an eyebrow at the red spot left on his finger. He knelt closer to it, almost pressing his nose against the ornamentation — its heat unbearable when he dared to draw too close. Maybe... you need to be a firecore? Frustration dripped down his throat, but he had none of the energy to follow it through. I'll come back to you later. Maybe several layers of oven mitts will serve. You will give me your secrets. He refused to leave Neven alone for longer than a couple minutes while Maria was working at the lodge.

Back in his seat, he picked up Neven's clammy hand once more, pale and cold. He drew the blankets closer around him, then sighed. "I don't know what to do," he whispered, moreso to himself than the dying Warden in the bed. Out of tears and long out of time, he pressed his hands against his stomach and tried not to puke. As it curled against his stomach, he leaned closer to rest his head against Neven's arm, waiting for the loss of life. It hung in the silence, but he froze when a weight settled and weaved into his hair. He frowned, then shifted to try and figure out where the touch came from.

Neven's hand had moved.

Yuven lifted himself from his complacency when he met sapphire weariness. He reached forward to grasp onto his collar. "Miesero." Panic swept through his chest when Neven's eyelids fluttered with his stuttered, faltered breaths. "Stay with me. You're going to be alright." Except he was all alone. "You'll be alright. We're going to go home."

"...is it over...?" Neven's Navei came out broken, far too weak.

"Yes. Yes!" Yuven dared not let his excitement get the best of him when he set his palms on Neven's cheeks, whose hand dropped from the crown of his head. Survive. You have to survive. "I'm here, Miesero. It's over. How are you feeling? Maria should be back soon." His heart thrummed against his chest, but he dared not grip onto hope when death clutched Neven's face.

"Everyone...?"

Yuven let his words falter, and he slid his fangs over his tongue. "We're alive."

Neven closed his eyes once more with a rattled huff. "...good," he said and raised his hand again to poke his face. "I'm glad."

"Answer my question."

Neven took in a breath. "It doesn't matter, all I had ever hoped for was for you to live," he said, dampness fluttering across the whites of his eyes. "I could at least do that much where I have failed everywhere else." Tears rolled down his face as he looked up at him. "Yuven—"

"Don't talk like that." Yuven bared his teeth. "You are going to survive as you always have."

Neven's gaze drifted downwards, but Yuven shifted so his body covered the sight which Maria tried her best to heal. "Always bull-headed," Neven whispered. "I want you to... take care of each-other." He rested back into his pillow. "...I don't know if—"

"Stop talking like that," Yuven pleaded through a hiss. "Stop talking like you're going to die. You're awake! Do you know how long you haven't been?" He came closer. "Days. Days, Miesero. Days where you wouldn't wake up. Days where I'm spent wondering if you'll... leave me." His feathers pinned against his ears like he was nothing more than a petulant child, but Neven gave him a weak smile.

"The blizzard never dies." Neven released a soft chuckle. "No matter what happens to me, do not forget. It is... a monument of our people—" Yuven snapped his head up, but Neven twitched his other hand. "Do not forget a name. Names hold power. With that, even if someone's physical form becomes nothing more than ash to the wind, their spirit will not. As long as their name is remembered." Neven gripped onto his shoulder after lowering the hand on his face. "Our people... so frozen in their ice, have forgotten such a core tenant. Xe'tana. Zet'alna. Navei'al." Neven winced. "Yuven, please... come what may, live. No matter what happens to me, live. That is all I ever wanted, even were you to forget my name."

"I'd—" Yuven shook his head. "I'd never forget, I wouldn't have to because you are going to survive." He lunged forward for answers. "I don't know what to do, you have to get better, Neven. You have to finish this. Finish what they started." He tightened his grip on his shirt. "You have to get up and fight."

Neven's frayed, golden feathers twitched, and he lowered his gaze again, but returned it to him. "I do not think that is possible, Yuven," he said. "I'm tired. I've done what I can. Go home. I'm sorry for dragging you into this. In the end, I was never as strong-willed as you. You make tough decisions older people than you could not fathom. I am proud of you. Though you may not see yourself as such, but to me... you're the example of a Storm Warden, tried and true."

But I'm not the best if I can't even do this.

Yuven flinched when a couple tears fell, then hugged Neven. "Don't die, please?"

"...I'll try."

It was the best he was going to get out of him. "I'll be right back. I need to go study the dawnblade." I have suspicions, but if I leave myself to wither here I'll never get anything done. And I know you wouldn't want that. You'd blame yourself and make it worse on you. Out of his chair, he let Neven's clammy hand go. "Don't go anywhere until I'm done. Rest."

Neven gave him a weak nod, and he pushed himself out of the room. As his steps drew downstairs, he faltered when Maria slipped into the treehouse with a new batch of phials for Neven. Her gaze drew to him, curious and worried, but he forced out, "He woke up."

"Did he?" Maria came forward with a newfound pep in her step. "Good, that's good. We're expecting mail soon, so if there's anything for us I'll let you know." Yuven nudged himself past her, and she followed him with her gaze. "Where are you going?"

"Something happened on that mountain, and it left Fenrer confused and..." He raised a hand with a sigh. "I highly suspect he was possessed... by the dawnblade."

"Possessed... by the familial sword of the Pyren's." Her neck tilted back and forth. "Yuven, I don't know if that's... completely possible, even if it was forged through magick means as our crescent blades are. Our blades aren't sentient."

"Well, something is happening, because Fenrer's magick core has tilted towards fire."

Maria's arms slacked, but she adjusted her grip on the box of phials. "What?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out." He hurried over to the kitchen to grab his several promised layers of oven mitts, rushing back upstairs along with Maria, whose destination led past him and up the next set. Hands wrapped around the dawnblade, he lifted the longsword out of its rack, trying not to drag it across the floor when it let out a furious hiss. Downstairs, knees wobbling from his lack of strength to wield it, he managed to haul his way into the protective bunker, where Kemal and Neven's notes pinned themselves to the two maps and the truth was far too vicious to fathom. He tossed it onto the table with a grunt, then stared down at it.

His reflection in the gemstone stared back.

There's got to be some sort of explanation but... Yuven threw the oven mitts beside it for later examination. Someone else needs me. I just... have to trust Adara to reach Fenrer. You and I will be doing a lot of reading. Surely there must be something about the potentiality of magick weapons... What is your history? I know you can trace yourself back to the time of King Pyren... what are you capable of that you can set an entire section aflame like a pyre, and possess an Aurus of all people? Yuven leaned closer to it, its heat intense when he came closer. He tried to strain himself to hear some sort of whisper, some sort of intent, though none came to him. For me... all you are is a flaming hot sword that I cannot touch, but Fenrer can. Clearly, it's got something to do with his bloodline. Yuven sighed, and left it there. It left no scorching pain on the table. I'll be back to deal with you.

Up the stairs again, he rushed to get back to Neven. Maria sat at her desk, dreary and worn. Yuven returned to Neven's side, to grab his side and pull him away from death. Back into its embrace, he bit on his lip when Neven failed to respond once more.

"He fell back asleep," Maria explained. "He's stabilizing, though. Slowly. He's very unwell with a high fever though so we should avoid added stressors." She dipped her quill into the inkwell then continued to write on her parchment. "We should be expecting the transport in the coming days. I hope to at least handle that fever before then, I fear the trip would be too difficult on him otherwise."

"It's still not a promise that he'll live."

"Yuven..." Maria sighed and rested her arm on the back of the chair. "It's never a promise."

"He deserved better than this." Glyphs danced across his fingertips, and he touched Neven's brow to send waves of cold against the chewing of Neven's own body. Deserved better than what he was saddled with. Once the glyphs shimmered out of sight, Yuven drew his hand away. "In the end, I haven't changed from that stupid little boy who cried at his own shadow and needed someone else to protect him." Fangs against his lips, he stepped farther away from the bed until his knees hit his chair and he fell into it.

"Yuven, it's completely understandable," Maria said. "Neven is like a second father to me." Her gaze drew over to him, then said, "If you can do me a favour, if he wakes back up, talk to him about the wedding."

"The wedding... we haven't planned."

"Yes, that one. Talk to him, I'd like to get his opinion since I want a mix of a Hanekan and Naveeran wedding." Maria raised a finger when Yuven twisted his head to her. "A compromise, I don't expect you to give me an ancestral sword since last I checked, you don't have one."

"Alright."

Maria scooted over him to nuzzle the crown of his head, before tapping him on the side of his head. "I need to go make something for Fenrer's migraines," she said. "I heard him complaining about them."

Yuven let her go with his fingers drifting on her arm until she was out of reach. He looked back down at Neven, then set his head against the edge of the bed with a pained groan. You have to live. You have to. You promised me.

You promised that you'd be there for the future no one else thought I'd reach.