Chapter 1 #3
Cass reached for his hand. The Berserker’s fingers were huge compared to his—long and scarred and capable of terrible things.
But he let Cass take them, let Cass turn his hand over to examine the damage.
Some of the tension bled out of his massive frame as Cass began cleaning the wounds.
There were scars layered over scars on those hands, a history of old violence.
And when Cass glanced up (just to check his expression) he saw more scars on the man’s neck and face.
Precise lines along his jaw, trailing down toward his throat.
The scars should have been ugly.
They weren’t.
Cass tucked that confusing information away in the part of his mind he kept to himself during harmony audits and focused on the split knuckles instead.
“You’ve done this before,” the Berserker said after a long moment.
“Done what?”
“Patched someone up. You know what you’re doing.”
“I like helping people. It’s one of the things I’m actually good at.” Cass kept his eyes on his work. “I’m not very good at the spiritual parts.”
“The spiritual parts?” There was something amused in the Berserkers voice, like he was smiling when he asked that.
“The philosophy. I understand healing—that’s simple. Someone is hurt, you make them less hurt. But the rest of it...” He trailed off, reaching for bandages.
“What’s your name?”
“Cassiopeia,” Cass managed, his voice still shaky. “But everyone calls me Cass. Are you going to tell me your name or should I just keep thinking of you as ‘the Berserker who might kill me but smells like dessert’?”
The Berserker barked out a laugh. “Riot. And I’m not going to kill you.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise.”
The certainty in his voice made something in Cass feel a little bit better, but not much. “Okay. But if you change your mind, could you wait until I finish bandaging your hands? I don’t like leaving medical care incomplete. It feels spiritually untidy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Riot muttered, but he let Cass continue working. “You’re Elysian, right? I wasn’t aware they were sending out medical missionaries that look like princesses.”
“I’m just a regular missionary, not a medical one, but I always make sure I have stuff to help people.
It’s a terrible feeling to be injured and not have any help.
I’m supposed to be recruiting people to come to my community.
” Cass kept his eyes focused on Riot’s hands, hoping he could hide the fact he was blushing.
No one had ever told him he looked like a princess before.
“Which community would that be?”
“It’s close to here, I think, but I don’t remember, I was so excited to leave the territory for the first time I didn’t pay attention to the route,” Cass said, focused on bandaging a particularly deep cut.
“It’s my first time out here trying to help lost souls find their way to. .. to trans-send-dance.”
“Transcendence,” Riot corrected quietly.
“That one,” Cass nodded, grateful. “The words are hard sometimes. Brother Matthias uses a lot of big words that I don’t always say right. I can hear them in my head the right way, but then my mouth mushes them up.”
The quality of silence that followed made Cass look up. Riot was staring at him with an expression that seemed equal parts horrified and fascinated.
“You’re born Elysian,” Riot observed, and there was something dangerous in his voice again.
Cass’s hands started shaking harder. “Is that... is that bad? Did I say something wrong?”
“Princess.” Riot’s voice was very careful now. “Do you know what Elysian Dynamics actually does?”
“Of course,” Cass said, searching his mind for the answer he was taught to give. “We help people achieve spiritual evolution through guided community growth and harmony-based living.” The words came out in a rush, practiced but not quite smooth.
“And how’s that working out for you?” Riot asked, his tone deceptively mild.
“Not very well,” Cass admitted, fresh tears threatening to blur his vision. “People here seem very resistant to guidance. I think maybe I’m not explaining it correctly. The words are confusing and I keep forgetting the right way to say things.”
“Or maybe,” Riot began, his voice gentle in a way that made Cass’s chest feel warm, “they know exactly what you’re trying to explain.”
He looked up, confused by the tone. “I don’t understand.”
“No,” Riot said, and something almost like sadness crossed his features. “I don’t think you do.”
“I’m sorry I don’t understand. Are you upset with me for being Elysian?” Cass asked in a small voice. “Because I can go away if you want. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t bleeding anymore.”
Riot studied his face, then sighed. “I’m not upset with you. Finish the bandages.”
He completed the first aid in tense silence, trying not to think about how the Berserker’s mood shifted because he’d talked too much again.
His hands trembled as he worked, partly from nerves, partly from the strange warmth that bloomed in his chest every time he glanced up and saw Riot staring at him.
“All done,” he said, biting his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything else that might be off-putting.
I should have paid more attention to communication lessons. Maybe people wouldn’t get mad at me if I’d focused on that instead of gardening and harmonious movements.
The Berserker grabbed his wrist and Cass froze, his breath catching. Those hands could snap his bones without effort, but they were being careful with him.
“What happened here?” Riot asked, tracing the edges of the cut. “This needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”
Cass’s pulse jumped under Riot’s touch. The man could kill him, but instead he was... worried? About Cass’s little cut?
“Oh, it’s fine,” Cass said, trying to pull his arm back. “Really, it’s not that bad.”
Riot’s grip tightened slightly. “You’re bleeding.”
“But not very much,” Cass protested, his stomach fluttering at the concern in that deep voice. “And I have recruitment quotas to meet. I can’t waste too much medical supplies on myself when someone else might need them more.”
Without warning, Riot grabbed the hem of his own shirt and ripped off a strip of fabric.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a bandage,” Riot said flatly, beginning to wrap the torn cloth around Cass’s cut with devastating gentleness. “Since you apparently think your own medical supplies are too good for you.”
The careful attention made Cass feel funny. When was the last time someone had fussed over him like this? When had anyone ever torn their own clothes to take care of him?
“That’s not—I didn’t mean—” Cass stammered, hyperaware of every brush of Riot’s fingers against his skin as he secured the makeshift bandage.
“There. Now tell me what happened.”
“Someone didn’t want my help,” Cass said, wiping his eyes.
“They said I hurt their sister, but I’ve never met their sister.
I think maybe they were confused. I mean, it’s possible their sister visited an Elysian community and didn’t find it helpful…
Not everyone is ready for spiritual evolution.
Sometimes people aren’t prepared for the changes that growth requires. That’s what Brother Matthias says.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Well, trans-send-dance means leaving behind patterns that no longer serve your highest good,” Cass recited, concentrating on the pronunciation. “Sometimes that means releasing attachments to previous identities or relationships that were holding you back from authentic self-expression.”
“And if someone doesn’t want to release those attachments?”
“Then they receive additional guidance until they understand why change is necessary,” Cass said, pleased he remembered everything correctly. “It’s all very supportive. No one is forced to do anything they don’t want to do, they just receive help understanding what they should want.”
Riot’s expression was unreadable. “That’s... quite a philosophy.”
“It works,” Cass said, though his voice wavered. “I mean, it’s supposed to work. I just haven’t been very good at explaining it. I keep using the wrong words or forgetting the important parts.”
“What if the people you’re trying to help don’t want to be fixed?”
“But everyone wants to be happy,” Cass said. “Brother Matthias says sometimes they just don’t know how to get there. That’s why we help them understand.”
“And you think Elysian knows how to make people happy?”
“Of course. Community harmony creates individual fulfillment. When everyone works together toward collective harmony, suffering diminishes and joy increases.” The words came out rehearsed and mechanical, but he hoped that Riot wouldn’t notice.
“That sounds nice,” Riot said, something wistful in his voice. “What happens to people who can’t achieve transcendence?”
“Everyone can achieve it,” Cass said firmly. “It just takes different amounts of time and support. That’s why there are guidance programs and spiritual counseling and intensive development opportunities for people who need extra help.”
“Intensive development,” Riot repeated.
“For people with more resistance to growth,” Cass explained, the words stilted like a half-remembered lesson. “Some individuals need focused attention to overcome their barriers to authentic self-expression.”
He finished wrapping Cass’s arm and took a step back, and Cass felt an unexpected pang of loss. The Berserker was the first person in months who’d let him help without getting angry, even if he seemed upset about the Elysian thing for reasons Cass couldn’t understand.
“Will I see you again?” Cass asked, then felt embarrassed for sounding so hopeful. Heat crept up his neck at his own desperation.
Riot looked down at him, and Cass felt small under that intense gaze…but not in a bad way? “You’re trying to recruit people into a system that...” He stopped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he seemed to swallow his words. “It’s probably better for both of us if this was a one-time thing.”
“Oh.” Cass tried to hide his disappointment. Of course the Berserker didn’t want to see him again. Why would he?
Riot stared at him, then groaned. “You really don’t understand, do you?”
“Understand what?” Cass’s lower lip began to quiver. “Did I do something wrong? I know I’m not good at explaining things, but I was trying to help, and you seemed hurt, and—”
“Jesus Christ,” Riot muttered, running a hand through his copper hair. “No, princess. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
And then he was walking away, disappearing into the gathering darkness. Cass stood alone on the cracked pavement, tears flowing freely as he watched the place where the Berserker had vanished, his chest aching with something deeper than disappointment.
Maybe Riot would change his mind. Maybe if Cass approached him again, explained things better, used the right words... Brother Matthias always said persistence was a virtue, and Riot had been kind when no one else had been. That had to mean something.
Cass gathered his supplies and headed back the way he came, hoping to find the main road back to his lodgings, already planning how he might accidentally encounter the strawberry-scented Berserker again.