[ 147 ]
Falcon knew he was dreaming. He also knew that every aspect of what he was seeing was due to his restless mind which had yet to recover from recent events. But that didn't stop him from being afraid.
How could he not? When standing in an unfamiliar open space all on his own. The only thing he could identify, was the metallic stench that entirely engulfed him. With every heavy breath he took, droplets of warm blood fell from his hair and onto his already-covered cheeks. There was no end to the thick liquid. If he breathed too quickly, he feared it would get clogged in his throat and lungs.
If this was the first time he suffered from these paralysing dreams, he would be more inclined to believe it was due to the unavoidable bloodshed of the battle against Hawk. But instead, everything was the same— the weight, the smell and the temperature of the blood that coated his skin.
Faceless bodies lay all around him, strewn about at odd angles and completely motionless. There was a strange twist of emotions inside of him, one which made him suffer an overwhelming sense of responsibility. As if he were the one who had killed everyone, and now stood over their corpses as the lone survivor.
Falcon stiffly looked around and his exhausted gaze fell on a body that lay not too far from where he struggled to stand. A young man, with long brown hair. And discarded yet within his reach, was a broken bow. Arrows having all been used up some time ago, rendering the young man defenceless.
It was like trudging through thick snow, every step draining more and more energy out of him. Until finally he reached the body, one his trembling hands reached for. But as he tentatively turned him over, Falcon inadvertently felt a huge sense of relief as the face below him was not one he recognised.
In fact, just like the rest of those around, the body had no features that would give him an identity. They were the weight of his guilt, just another number in a long list. But it wasn't a list that belonged to Falcon, and the longer he was forced to suffer these scenes, the more confused and paranoid be became.
He stepped away from the body he could easily see now wasn't Finch and turned his attention to what was around him. Trying desperately to find some landmark that would give him some indication as to where he was located. But the further he looked out, now eyeing the horizon, more came the appearance of dead bodies. It appeared to be never ending.
In the past, the dream would never last this long. It had never been so vivid, to the point where Falcon could smell the death around him. His stomach responded and threatened to bring up what little food sat in his stomach.
While suppressing the urge to vomit, something caught the corner of his eye. Instantly, Falcon whipped his head around and found there was now a vague-looking figure standing atop a hill. His back was facing towards him, so Falcon couldn't see much of the person's features. But he could deduce that he was tall and broad shouldered.
Perhaps the culprit for all these bodies.
Before even thinking about approaching this man, Falcon glanced down at the bloodbath beneath him. Weapons of all sorts of shapes and sizes, covered the ground. But not only that, Falcon recognised some which were the original skeletons of the weapons they used today. Original's they quickly got rid of in order to use the more robust and long-lasting weapons that had saved his life on countless occasions.
He had no choice but to choose one of the unreliable tools, his movements sluggish and practically uncontrollable. He had no idea why his body was moving as slowly as it was, but he could only grit his teeth and be patient. Regularly looking back to the figure on the hill, who had yet to move an inch.
Which continued as Falcon steadily approached. Silver eyes glowing under the deluge of blood.
The man wore a black robe made of material Falcon did not recognise. It looked to be the smoothness of water and thinly covered the muscular frame belonging to the man. He had to wonder what sort of protection it offered him, as an arrow-head could easily pierce through it. It was far from the abundance of thick pelts Falcon and his men would wear if preparing for battle.
When reaching the same level as the man, it was clear to see they were similar if not identical in height. And the only real difference between them physically, was that the stranger appeared leaner. Something Falcon had lost due endlessly repetitive training. It made the man adorning the strange black fabric that hung flatteringly loose on his body, look like someone who has gone untouched by the need for him to take up arms.
Falcon only had to take a few more steps before the attention of the stranger fell onto him. But what surprised Falcon the most, was the expression on the undoubtedly good-looking man's face. A one of pure unadulterated surprise. Then those staggeringly green eyes seemed to suddenly realise something, and his expression mellowed.
A sigh left the man's lips, his gaze leaving Falcon's state of a physical appearance. "No matter where," he lamented, "It seems I cannot escape my guilt."
The deep voice pierced through the blood-soaked man, and Falcon unconsciously shivered in response. He still clung tightly onto the weapon at his side, one the man opposite him had noticed but not cared to be wary of. Instead he elected to whisper words Falcon was unable to determine whether were directed at him or not.
"Who are you?"
The vision of a man actually laughed, but it was one that lacked any trace of humour. "How do I answer that? Well, I suppose I'm the one who gave a certain little bird a token, only for him to throw it away." He didn't even bother to look at Falcon's reaction.
"So you're him."
"Usually people sound more surprised when they meet me," Zephyr offered with a small grin.
Falcon scoffed and found himself looking in the same direction as the apparent deity was. Ahead of them was a space unlike the rest of the blood-soaked setting. But it was obscured, showing sights Falcon's mortal eyes seemed unable to comprehend. Unlike Zephyr, who stood fixated.
"Then you should have brought one of your fanatical worshippers here, instead of me."
Zephyr immediately thought that this part of the conversation felt familiar. He lightly shook his head, reminiscing. "You're just dreaming, Falcon. All you need to do is wake up."
"It's not that simple." The warrior rebutted with a deepening frown. "I keep having this same dream, where I am surrounded by death no matter which direction I turn. They're getting worse, and now you— of all people— are here. I'm no spiritual man, but even I can see that that can't be a good sign."
"They are just harmless dreams. There are rare times when some can summon me through them. Here, let me wake you.." Zephyr turned to him and raised a hand but was greeted with Falcon reeling backwards.
"You are lying."
The deity pursed his lips, "And you and Finch have a lot more in common than I originally thought. Both of you have the nerve to call me a liar." Which were words Falcon could only be proud to hear. But he still wasn't able to suppress the rising frustrations when in the face of this all-knowing and highly secretive being.
"The only thing keeping me calm is Finch, and knowing that it was likely you who gave him life once again. Although he doesn't speak of it, I can see things troubling him. I hate feeling so powerless to help him, so I might as well use this time to get answers from you. But first, thank you. Even if it was for your own gains, you gave Finch back to us. We would have been lost without him." Falcon bowed his head.
Instead of appearing smug, as Falcon expected, the deity revealed a troubled expression. One that led to him avoiding eye contact and looking back out into the distance. Showing the telltale signs of a man who was feeling guilty after receiving praise for something he hadn't done. Something that left the mortal man feeling suddenly awkward.
He straightened his back.
"You weren't the one who brought him back?"
Zephyr took offence, "Of course I was... but my power only stretches so far."
The silver eyed man skewed up his face, wondering how Finch with his usually impatient and stubborn attitude, dealt with someone as vague and exasperating as this deity. "What does that even mean?" He wondered as his head began to throb.
"It doesn't matter. We're just chess-pieces. Meant to play our part or face the consequences."
"We're what?"
"It's a game that I recently discovered while— never mind. You need to return to your beloved's side and cherish him wholeheartedly. Savour him, while you still can." His tone dropped, a clear hint of dejection to it. But if he hadn't have shown such a troubled expression following his own words, Falcon would have taken what he said as a threat.
He opened his mouth to quickly respond, when something out of the corner of his eye changed rapidly. The distorted air that Zephyr was once fascinated with, now showed signs of clarity. The words Falcon wanted to speak vanished as he took in the strange occurrence.
It was unlikely to be as vivid as the way the deity saw it, but Falcon still saw enough. At first it was like quick glimpses, and then he was struck by the sight of a young man's smile. He appeared to be closer to Falcon in age, but still possessed the freshness that came with youth. He was an individual Falcon had never seen before, and seemed to be surrounded by a world he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around.
But there was something that made his chest tighten. Something in the detailing of the man's face, like the dusting of freckles on his cheeks. Falcon wondered who this man was, and what clan he belonged to as he maintained such short hair. But from the looks of it, the young man seemed to have just woken up.
His short hair which brushed the back of his neck, was unruly in an adorable way. Slight flicks and curls proved to be unbelievably charming.
Zephyr was also taken by this scene, but as the man beside him had fallen into complete silence, he curiously peered over. Only to see Falcon's eyes blown wide and his lips partially open. The weapon he once firmly held onto, had fallen to the ground but the warrior hadn't noticed. Instead it looked like nothing would be able to tear his gaze away.
The deity felt an unsettling feeling creep inside of him. Zephyr had fallen head-first into a trap set by those who were truly in charge, due to his own ignorance. He was so eager to seek knowledge that he didn't first consider that potentially it was exactly what someone else had been waiting for. That he would ironically meet his own demise in the form of his own anguish. Having to experience his destined lover choose the mortal version of himself. To fully comprehend that his actions may have not been just, but it proved too late when he accepted the revelation.
But Falcon was an integral part in Fahren's path. One which should have remained contained in this world, unlike Zephyr who had breached that barrier. Which is why the deity was unsettled, as Falcon watched on with a look of enchantment as he soaked in the sight of his lover in his true form.
This stranger, who looked completely unlike anyone Falcon had met before, was someone he couldn't look away from. He could only selfishly wish that those gorgeous eyes, that were almost identical to Finch's own, would turn his way. But instead they were fixed on a rectangular object in his hand.
Falcon should have felt wrong for staring so openly at the stranger who appeared to have no idea that they were there. He couldn't help letting his silver eyes linger on the body of the brown haired man. The sun-kissed skin was devoid of any scars, with only a handful of freckles dotted on his shoulders that faintly matched the ones on the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones.
His body was lean, but maintaining toned muscle. A figure of someone who would be a fine warrior, Falcon deduced.
But just as Zephyr had initially looked to have been untouched by the brutality of the world, before Falcon realised that their current environment was a representation of the man's guilt, this stranger also seemed to be far from simple. The smile that made his chest ache had vanished without a trace, instead replaced by a troubled expression courtesy of something he had seen on the rectangle in his grasp.
It made Falcon want to go to him, to demand to know what was wrong and why he looked like he was the only one in the world. Closed off in a space which Falcon could barely see, but looked like some white box.
Falcon tilted his head to address the silent deity, while keeping his gaze firmly on the fascinating young man. "Who is he?" He found himself whispering.
Zephyr kept quiet, looking more pained the longer they watched. Eventually, to the surprise of Falcon who was unable to do the same, Zephyr turned away. "Someone you and I will never have the pleasure of holding."
Falcon tried not to let it show how much that stung. Which was ridiculous, given that he had only just laid eyes upon the young man. But knowing that the deity clearly seemed to be withholding information about him, Falcon allowed himself to become enraged. He turned his gaze to Zephyr but as he opened his mouth he was cut off.
"Enough. Treasure your time with Finch, if you don't then the moment your hold weakens, I will take him for myself." Which was the first clear warning he gave him. And the last, evidently, as Zephyr didn't even grant him a moment to take a lasting look at the eye-catching young man before he felt a pain in his forehead. Like it had been flicked.
The next thing he knew, his eyes shot open and he was looking at the straw-ladened roof. Other than his heavy breathing and the sound of water dripping through the gaps in the shelter, no one else was awake.
As soon as the battle was declared to be over, everyone flooded out of the tunnels. Since then, many preferred to move out of there entirely and to construct their new homes underneath the canopy of the surrounding forest, or within the trees themselves. A weight was lifted and people found the courage to venture further. Some even talking about journeying to their old homes in order to salvage what they previously couldn't bring with them.
This was a time they should enjoy, and Falcon was no exception. It was easy to brush aside the emotions that went along with his dream, especially when he looked at the figure sleeping contentedly on top of him.
Other than one fur pelt they used as a blanket, they both wore nothing else. Their dishevelled hair laced together and since the mountain of furs beneath them were far from flat, it easily encouraged Finch to find warmth and comfort on the next best thing. Not that Falcon was complaining, as he carefully lifted one arm up and wrapped it around his young lover's naked waist.
Memories of their first night together resurfaced and they were enough to send a flush to his cheeks. Although he was the eldest of the two, it was Finch who had boldly taken control when they were unable to take their hands off each other.
Falcon's large hand ran down the smooth skin on Finch's back. Fingertips brushing the glorious curve that led to his backside. His supple skin welcomed Falcon's inquisitive fingers, delighting when he took a handful.
Cheek rested against Falcon's shoulder, Finch made a mumbling sound that evolved into a breathy moan. Slowly but surely, he was brought out of his deep sleep. Tilting his head up, his sleepy green eyes looked into Falcon's silver ones.
Falcon was momentarily taken aback. Those same eyes and the gentle yet somewhat mischievous smile was almost identical to the one from his dream. It dropped slightly when Finch took in his expression and became worried.
Seeing it fall, Falcon reacted in the same way he had wanted to comfort the other man. He brought his hands up and cupped Finch's gorgeous face, closing the distance between their mouths. He flipped them over so that his lover was submerged in the warm confines of the furs.
A short while later, when Falcon released the poor and unsuspecting lips, Finch poked a tongue out and ran it over his top lip. His eyes looking somewhat glazed after being passionately attacked only moments after waking up.
"Have I created a monster?" Finch inquired softly.
Falcon chuckled, running his fingers over the naked body beneath him. They instinctively found the centre of his chest, right where Finch had sustained the arrow which had taken him from him. Falcon couldn't help himself, leaning down and planting a gentle kiss in the same place his fingers had been caressing.
Fingers slipped through Falcon's hair, massaging his scalp a little. "Are you alright?" Finch wondered as he brought those lips back to his own for a few soft pecks.
"I met him." Falcon finally admitted.
"Who?"
"Zephyr." The body beneath him stiffened.
Finch cleared his throat, "I see. What did he say?"
Falcon took in the startled look on his face, feeling instantly regretful about bringing it up. He tried to ease his worries, smiling down at Finch. "Not much. It seems he wasn't the one who brought me there. But eventually, Finch, I would like to know what it is you're trying so hard to hide from me."
Finch looked panicked. He shook his head, "It's nothing like that.. I'm not trying to keep anything from you. It's not even.. it's more that I don't want to burden you." He rambled, to which Falcon again chuckled.
"I know you don't, little bird. But since I don't plan on ever letting you go, I would hope that you could rely on me enough to share your problems. Even if you think they're only small."
Finch gave a small nod, and his gaze slipped to the hand that coursed through Falcon's beautiful silver hair. He felt the soft strands slip through his fingers. He had already decided to himself that he wouldn't tell Falcon, nor Fyre. Perhaps it was selfish, but Fahren knew he was the type that was stubborn enough to fight tooth and nail to ensure some curse didn't come to fruition.
"I will tell you," he whispered to his lover. "But after we revisit the way you woke me up."
[ TBC ]
[ A/N: If you want to skip the waiting and read the next chapters, then feel free to check out my Patreon account > www.patreon.com/bethworthington ]