12 - Rest and Magic #2
“Yet my nakedness didn’t bother you at the lake.”
Cassian gave a teasing smile, pulling him a little closer. He felt the elf relax, his muscles letting go one by one. He sensed that his teasing acted as a balm, a necessary distraction to forget—if only for a second—the abyss that had just opened up beneath their feet.
“Like any self-respecting elf, I know how to appreciate the finer things,” Tariel whispered.
The laughter faded gently. Cassian felt the elf’s heart beating against him, still too fast, still too heavy. The moment of lightheartedness had already passed.
Despite the warmth of the embrace, Tariel remained a bit tense, nestled against him as if the mercenary were the only defense against his own torments. Silence returned, broken only by the distant crackling of the fire.
Cassian’s smile lost its radiance until it faded into a sigh. Tariel remained quiet; his silence was a testament to his distress.
“If you feel like crying, go ahead. If you want to stay silent or talk to me, you can also go ahead. If you just want to rest… I’ll respect your choice, Tariel.”
He rested his cheek on top of his head, staring quietly at his white locks. In the dim light, their two hearts continued to beat as one.
Tariel
Beneath the teasing, a void remained within Tariel. Deep, overwhelming… He could feel the mercenary’s warmth, but he could also feel his own heart, weighed down by a secret that was no longer a secret—one he hadn’t even been told about.
It all seemed surreal to him: the Elven Crystal Heart within him, that dormant power, his mission… Was his magic truly his own, or was that, too, just a lie? Was it solely the Crystal’s power that allowed him to wield it so well?
His world seemed to be turning upside down, and Tariel felt powerless in the midst of it all. And yet… the mercenary’s embrace kept him grounded. Anchored in the moment. It prevented him from spiraling into a whirlpool of confusion, anger, fear, and despair.
He himself knew nothing about the man he now held in his arms—the man who had saved him, and whom he had saved in return. The man who had transformed his phoenix into a dragon. The man who wielded alchemy, a lost and taboo magic, as naturally as he breathed.
And yet, at that moment, Tariel only had him.
Cassian. A mysterious, rough-around-the-edges mercenary with devastating charm that was beginning to chip away at his defenses.
Deep down, he knew he couldn’t ignore the alarm bells that had been ringing ever since they met: this man was dangerous.
He knew it, he felt it, and he saw it. But he had no one but him…
and clinging to Cassian felt horribly like clinging to a truth that remained just out of the elf’s reach.
A long silence stretched out, broken only by the crackling of the last embers, reflecting the younger man’s inner turmoil.
Tariel surprised even himself when he finally broke the silence with a quiet, fragile voice.
“What terrifies me most is that I don’t know who will deliver the final blow.
Will it be the dragon, an enemy I haven’t yet encountered…
or will I die by the blade of one of my own? ”
He didn’t even know to whom he was speaking these words. They hung in the air like a confession: he was certain he would not emerge alive from this journey.
How could he? So many beings wanted him dead that only the prospect of a buried truth still drove him forward. Not out of honor, but because inaction was the only path that did not lead instantly to the grave.
Against him, he felt Cassian’s chest rise. The mercenary remained silent for a long moment, as if weighing every word in the darkness, before his voice—calm as a whisper—resonated deep into the elf’s bones.
“I think everyone who’s on the road is afraid of a death they cannot predict. We’re afraid of running out of time, of being betrayed, of suffering.”
Tariel listened with almost painful intensity as he let his fingers mechanically trace runes across the mercenary’s muscular chest. He wasn’t infusing them with magic; he simply watched as the lines glowed faintly before fading, like dying stars on Cassian’s skin.
He knew thousands of these symbols by heart, but none seemed capable of deciphering what he was feeling.
“You have within you the power to protect yourself just as much as the power to kill. To create and to destroy,” Cassian continued. “You must believe in yourself. More than anyone has ever believed in you, Tariel.”
Tariel stared into space. Objectively speaking, he was powerful, capable of bending the fabric of the world, but his emotions remained his greatest source of vertigo. Seeking a way out of this heavy conversation, he muttered in a lighter tone:
“I hope you’re aware that I’m going to ask you a whole bunch of questions tomorrow.”
He paused, his fleeting smile fading into a sigh.
“I’m not that young. I’m two hundred and eleven years old…
and I feel like I have to throw everything I know in the trash.
It’s intimidating to face the lie that is one’s own life.
I’m not afraid of running out of power, Cassian…
I’m afraid of being too weak to make the right decision when I have to. ”
He felt Cassian’s body tremble slightly—a stifled laugh, perhaps?—and sensed his smile in the shadows. The mercenary’s embrace tightened, his arms wrapping around him with a strength that seemed to want to ward off adversity.
“Tomorrow is another day,” the man whispered. “And besides, I might just smother you in your sleep—who knows? What a way to go.”
Tariel felt Cassian’s cheek press against the back of his head. Then, without warning, a hand wandered through his white locks before gently pinching his ear to tug at it. The gesture, though painless, was so unexpected that Tariel froze, his heart leaping.
In an instant, the powerful mage felt like a scolded kitten. He looked up with wide eyes at Cassian’s face, his body tense with a tinge of fear and surprise.
“Tariel, nothing is to be thrown into the trash,” the mercenary continued, releasing his grip on Tariel’s ear and letting his hand drift down to the nape of his neck.
“A lie is no obstacle…you have a head start over those who think you’re ignorant.
Your emotions can be the source of your failure, but also that of your victory.
Don’t rely on higher powers; have faith in yourself. ”
Cassian paused, his hand still and warm against Tariel’s neck.
“It may well be that your mission is not to kill a dragon, but to find your true allies in a conflict greater than your quest.”
Tariel remained motionless for a long moment, his face nestled against his companion’s chest, letting those words resonate within him. He wouldn’t change his worldview overnight, but the warmth of that muscular body, the mercenary’s scent, and the certainty of his support acted as an anchor.
In the dim light, lulled by the ambient sounds and the faint scent of medicinal herbs, the elf sighed.
“Sometimes, when you speak, you seem so irrational that what you say almost makes sense…” he murmured.
He then closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.
Without realizing it, lulled by the steady beat of Cassian’s heart, he drifted off to sleep. His last thought was a silent hope: that the mercenary would not be haunted by his demons that night.
For in that state of total surrender, Tariel was no longer an enemy, nor an esteemed elf, nor a crystal-bearer. He was simply an exhausted soul that finally felt safe.