"In my dream... I can't breathe, like the room is full of smoke from a fire..."
"December! December, wake up!"
December's eyes open frantically, nails dragging across his chest as he awakens to a world of black. His eyes open and close repeatedly, hand rubbing against each eye as he attempts to see through the suffocating darkness, to distinguish reality from the back of his own bewildered eyelids.
"December!" The voice calls again between frantic coughs, a hand wrapping around December's shirt collar with a rough shake. "Get up! Now!"
With each pounding shake of the collar he slowly awakens, mind coming too as the smoke of the room floods the back of his throat, sticking to each lung as he coughs against its restraints. The entire room is blanketed in a fog-like smoke, the scent of a campfire heavy in the air, a crackling sound drifting into the room from somewhere too far off.
Ryder falls into focus, dark eyes wild as he grips his cousin tighter, pulling December's body from the bed in one swift sweep. He's stronger than he appears, December's body tumbling from the force of his pull as he grasps his cousin's hand in his own.
Ryder leaves him no time to think, no time to breathe or steady himself against his surroundings as he drags him to the corridor drowning in smoke. They don't speak, only that eerie crackle filling the air as they run through the stone corridor no longer chill against their bare feet. Rather a burning heat striking their soles as they rush down spiraling staircases and past heated gemstones, breaking into the night air with heaving breaths.
Every gasp burns as smoke crawls into December's mouth, breaking its way through dried lips and forcing its way down his throat as he gags against the air. Sweat plasters December's body, chest heaving as he finally pulls his hands from their place on his knees, body straightening as he turns back to the castle behind them.
The pristine castle, standing as it was before, not a scratch or a burn to be seen.
It's the Earth that burns. The Earth being devoured in the flames, drowning in the ash that falls from the starless sky. Puffs of hot and cursed snow that coats their night shirts, burying itself in Ryder's pitch black hair and accumulating on December's lashes. The smoke draws thicker here, a sticky fog that lies stagnant in the air though the sight it tries so hard to shield still remains.
The sight of red and oranges blending together against the black of a starless sky. A vision of destruction that licks at the back of their sweat drenched necks and smothers them with the overwhelming odor of burnt wood. The scent clings to their skin just as it had that day, when the heat of the flames joined with the scent of blood and burning flesh. When the white bled into black, and a world of bright lights shattered into a world alit by flames.
The day that Heaven was stripped away and the Hell it concealed all along clawed it's way to the surface, released by the cleansing flames that ultimately set them free.
"December-" Ryder's broken off by a fit of coughing, black shirt pulled over his nose though it does nothing to filter the smoke and flames. "Grab my hand! It's coming from over there."
Ryder's hand clasps his own, the touch he swore to himself he would never forget again. Now that touch digs it's way into his flesh and crawls it's way into his mind. The sight of his cousin wide eyed and determined, a strength he never knew he had, burning itself into his memories like the flames that swirl around them.
With their hands clutched tightly, Ryder sets off towards the source of the flames with December in tow. Their hearts beating rapidly against the pressure of the smoke though they force their bodies to continue. To run past the bright world that's now gone black, to run under the blood red moon shielded by black clouds. The same moon that's guided them so many times now blinded by smoke.
Bare feet graze cobblestone paths, each hardened dip and groove piercing into the hard skin of their soles, loose stones digging themselves into their flesh though they continue to run. It all hurts, the fire that runs through their veins, the stones that scrape away at their now bloodied feet, the smoke that digs its nails into their eyes and lungs. Everything burns like the world around them, eyes watering against the blended reds and oranges that surround them.
Women and children pass by in a blur, clutched teddy bears and the sounds of infants crying filling the night air. December doesn't look at the fae that whirl by, standing outside their homes as they hold their families closer. His attention falls only on the black hair before him, eyes squinting as he holds the image closer. Forcing his mind to focus on nothing else, just the feel of Ryder's hot flesh against his own and the bobbing of that shaggy black hair.
The black hair that guides them through the smoke drenched woods, that pulls them over heated logs and under ash covered thickets. The black haired cousin, the shy, weak, trembling cousin December thought he knew. Yet somehow, after nineteen years, he never truly knew the boy who holds him tight. The boy who's walked through fire twice without a single word, with flames that flash across dark eyes. Flames that burn from within and rival those that always find their way back to him.
Ryder comes to a still, December stumbling behind him as they rest at the top of a cliff, Ryder stepping backwards as the two stare at the sight laid out before them.
The sight of Wren coated in smoke and ash. The sight of sheer robes that have been licked by the flames, holes scattered across the material lied sprawled across the brown and dry grass. His arm is outstretched over the cliff, over the pit of fire and smoke that rises before them, the heat overwhelming from this close. As December scans the boy before him his breaths halt, body stumbling backwards as his hand falls across trembling lips.
Black coats the small fae, sickly lines that etch across his skin, tracking each vein and wrapping them in a blackened ivy that glows beneath the blood of the moon. The black lines flood from his arm, snaking their way down his back and spreading down each thin and quaking leg. His shoulders rise and fall too quickly, black arms shaking though he wills himself to stay standing against the pull of the disease creeping its way around him.
As Wren drops to his knees, December is broken from his trance as Ryder's hand slips away from his own. Yet December can't move, body bound to its spot though Ryder is already at the edge of the cliff with Wren in his arms. The black lines continuing to crawl their way along his body as the first cry breaks into the night.
A wailing, heart wrenching scream that slices through the smoke and echoes through the night. A cry that runs through the forest and carries across cobblestone streets. That rushes through empty palace corridors and erupts into the burning flames placed ahead of him. A cry that removes December from his hidden chains as he rushes to the edge of the cliff, body falling alongside the two boys as he glances into the flames.
Glances into the crimson that dances across the blackened field blanketed in smoke. Stares into the red that nuzzles against the remnants of those large white flowers now curled over and burning, their petals devoured by the flame that dances from one bloom to the next.
Wren's cry is the only sound that breaks December's horrified gaze, a sobbing, wretched sound as his black-lined hand digs into the ruined Earth. Blood coats his nails and trails across the dirt, breaths gasping and trembling as Ryder attempts to still him, Wren's body doubled over in the boy's grasp as yellow vomit spurs from his shaking lips.
He can't speak, the vomit never ceasing as his body twitches from the overwhelming force, body gasping and heaving between the onslaught. The only noise he can make is broken cries and animalistic screams, eyes never leaving the flames that promise to haunt him his soul for eternity.
"I-I-" Wren's words are broken by his own screams as he claws at the restraints of Ryder's arms, bloodied lines drawing against the surface of his flesh though he refuses to let go. "I-I-"
"It's okay." December is the first to speak, voice soft and low against the crackling assault of the burning field. "Wren, take a deep breath."
As he goes to place his hand on the fae's back he's met with an animalistic growl, a sound that draws from a source buried deep within the fae, unlocked only by the panic and pain of the flames. The small boy, with his twinkling laugh and dreamy smiles, has been replaced by a beast. A beast clad in black lines who bears fanged teeth, a beast that growls against the night, who's all-black eyes reflect pools of fire as it screams into the flames. A beast gone hysteric with grief, who claws at his own blackened eyes until blood drips like tears from his ripped cheeks.
"I had to. I had to! I-" Wren gasps, words barely audible between his heaving sobs and the splashes of vomit that still fall from his lips. "I wasn't strong enough. I was never going to be strong enough." He mumbles as his body rocks itself, black eyes distant and empty as he repeats the same words over and over in a trembling chant.
December glances past the trembling beast until his eyes fall upon Ryder sat still on the other side. Dark eyes wide and brimming with tears as they meet with a disturbed blue. A blue that falls upon the burning field illuminated by deafening screams before drifting towards a starless and watchful sky.
A sky that carries with it a single white petal. A petal that drifts through the wind and smoke before floating peacefully beside December. Yet the fire can't contain itself as it creeps up the petal of the soul bloom, devouring it until nothing remains.
•••
"How is he?"
Three days have passed by. Three days since December was awakened during the dead of the night. Three days since the clouds of thick smoke threatened to bury the kingdom.
Three days since the soul bloom field was lit ablaze and dissolved to ashes.
Sasha merely sighs, ruby eyes shutting against the light of the sun that flows through the corridor. "He's no longer hysteric. Aside from that he's doing as well as you'd assume from someone who committed genocide. Give it a couple of days, I'm sure he'll be fine." There's no emotion in his words, just a sternness that begs to not be bothered as he opens the ornate door of the bedroom, stepping into its darkened depths before disappearing without a trace.
A couple of days...
Yet how long is a couple of days, when the moon and sun continue to set without a word? When three day pass without the vision of sheer robes and freckled smiles followed by three days more? When six days of silence stumbles into eight days of emptiness? Eight days of hushed nods and the closing of that ornate door that holds behind it too many secrets.
What is December meant to do with each passing day, where eight bleeds into nine and nine slips into ten days of darkness. Ten days without a twinkling laugh, without burgundy eyes that flash with excited emotion that can't be contained. What is he supposed to say, when eleven days drips to twelve yet the world continue to turn, the sun continues to rise on a palace devoid of a king.
A king who lies curled in a nest of blankets, silent and empty and too broken to cry anymore. A king who's soul burned away with the children he held so dear, the infants he visited every morning as they slept soundly in the embrace of softened petals.
The children he sentenced to death at the hands of his own flames. Who's souls haunt his every day and night as twelve days falls to thirteen, until the fourteenth day of silence rises with the blood-red sun, stained with the lives of the children he stole.
•••
The summer sun bleeds more red than orange, December squinting against its light as he stands among the crowd gathered at the castle doors. It's the first time he's worn the palace robes, the threatening glare Sasha had gifted him earlier that morning being enough to force him into the silky material.
The wine-tinted sleeves hang from his arm as they block out the violent rays of the sun, Ryder gifting him a pitiful laugh and shake of the head. "The sun wouldn't burn your eyes if you didn't stare directly at it."
December cuts a playful glare at Ryder, head turning from the sun to his wine-robed cousin beside him. "I've never seen the sun look so red before but it's been like that for days." He admits, eyes scanning the crowd amongst him with subtle curiosity.
Ryder merely shrugs as he grabs a red flower from a nearby waiter, fingers twirling the stem of the plant before explaining. "'When the Earth cries, the Heavens cry with it' is what Sasha said, whatever that's supposed to mean." He twirls the spider lily absentmindedly before handing the plant to his cousin, pointing at the people beside them. "Here, they're giving everyone these flowers."
Red flowers and a red sun... December stares into the lily held weakly in his grasp before scanning the crowd around him. Everyone holds a lily or rose or marigold of some sort, a wave of red flowers that washes over the crowd of fae. Though they've only been outside for a few minutes, the crowd has nearly doubled. Women in red dresses join the large group holding children adorned with red ribbons and escorted by men in red shirts or ties.
The group is full of overlapping voices and chatter, the smell of sweet honey poured over fried foods mixing with the overwhelming scent of the red flowers. As December turns to address his cousin the palace door opens, the crowd falling silent as a familiar figure emerges from the entrance.
His burgundy eyes are worn and tired, lips fitted with a false smile as he lifts a weak hand towards the crowd. As he enters the group, December's chest tightens, that familiar sensation creeping into the pit of his stomach at the sight of the long-hidden king.
He's adorned in red like the rest of the crowd, a sheer burgundy that matches his eyes with sleeves that trail the ground behind him. Red and black beads are sewn into intricate patterns on the train of the robe, the sun reflecting off their surface and dancing across the ruby and obsidian crown that graces his forehead. Each stone is set in gold and formed in the shape of the spider lilies that litter the swarm, Wren taking a deep breath as he comes to a still in the front of the crowd.
A window opens from above, the crowd erupting into cheers as Sasha waves from the third story of the castle. Children ring hand drum toys while their mothers jingle bells in excitement. December can feel his cousin's confused stare on his back though he doesn't turn to face him. A nausea riding through his body at the sense that something is wrong, something is here, yet the two stand unaware of what the entire world seems to know.
Sasha steps away for a moment before returning, the nausea exploding within December as he ducks his head from the sight. From Abrahm standing on the ledge of the window, noose wrapped loosely around his neck as his arms are held tight behind his body by guards.
The red sun. The red dresses and ribbons and flowers. Ruby crowns and burgundy robes and red Heavens that cry with the tears of a redder Earth. Red that splatters across blue-tint stone with a deafening crack of bone suspended from rope.
Red lilies dropped from a human's trembling hands as he gathers the courage to glance up. Yet his eyes never fall on a swinging body, on deadened eyes or blood drenched stone.
They fall on a burgundy clad king who's matching eyes glimmer in the red blaze of a summer sun. A king who's cherry lips, once a hard and steady line, begin to slip into a smile.
A genuine, true, blood drenched smile.