Sometimes, people heard delusions. A whisper or a laugh that made them turn their head into nothingness, and wonder if their mind was playing deceitful tricks once again.
Lucas heard it, after the apocalypse and before it, the little toying of his mind that made him mistake the whistle of the wind for a hissing giggle.
But he couldn't make up words, and certainly not entire sentences.
'And so the kings have all reunited,' the voice sang joyously, infused with delight and innocent glee. But all Lucas felt were goosebumps. 'And the battle between two puppets approaches.'
Lucas was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to pass out and pretend all was right with the world.
Preferably, he would've chosen to return to the past when life was normal and meaningless, where he roamed the streets to determine what he'd do that day.
With Kane by his side, in whatever future awaited. If he could've rewritten the past days of loneliness, he thought he would consider it.
However, he wasn't exhausted to the point of hallucinations.
And while his breath was presently being reaped from a sobbing youth built solely of muscles, suffocating him until his face turned blue, he still didn't think he would start hallucinating.
He squinted vaguely at Julian's shaking shoulders. 'If I suffocate to death because of you...'
Then, he felt his body being gently pried away from Julian's arms, a protective hold snaking around him. He felt the vibrations of a faint chuckle from the chest behind him.
His eyes remained distant, fixed on the darkness far ahead.
Searching for a voice with no owner.
"I'm afraid I'm a rather jealous lover, kid," teased Elias with the familiar hitch of his voice that tangled with amusement whenever he wanted to provoke Lucas' irritation.
Elias' deep blue gaze flicked down, waiting for the curl of a frown to form on Lucas' tired face, and saw nothing. No reaction, not the slightest frown. Lucas' gaze had glazed over in a prison of thought.
A snake of something sinister wrapped itself around Elias' chest.
He wasn't a man of many mysteries, somebody who survived the end of the world at the cost of everybody else, for nothing.
He knew what danger felt like.
He lifted his gaze, but saw nothing more than shattered windows stained with crimson, scented with death. Nothing more than nail marks peeling the solid carvings of the doors, and perhaps a few scurrying humans that were limbless, sightless, or worse.
If he looked up further, he'd see the starless skies that would soon make their way to the world outside Tartarus, and the obscure moon that hung with its curved shape.
His arms wrapped around the man in his arms more firmly, almost possessively. As if by instinct, he wasn't willing to let go.
"Lucas." He called to the Lucas, who didn't push him away or move, as still as a statue.
Finally, Lucas' frozen expression moved at his lips. "Four Kings. Four owners of the swords of legend. Find them all, and earn the right to claim the Throne."
Elias was delighted by the response, but frowned. "Yes, you know this."
He didn't understand why Lucas suddenly brought it up. After all, Elias knew that his foolish sponge's goal was first to save and protect his precious older brother, and then to put an end to the apocalypse.
Of course, Elias knew the method of claiming the Throne, though knowing and being able to accomplish it were two vastly different things.
"Right here, how many Kings are there?"
Lucas' state was complex to figure out, and Elias, who'd grown skilled at reading the stone-faced man, felt at a loss. He didn't like feeling at a loss.
Nevertheless, he answered obediently. "Two. Adelaide and I. Rome is outside, hopefully alive, and even more hopefully with his Title still."
He thought it would appease or satisfy whatever spun in Lucas' mind, but the other instead frowned deeply. It was a frown Elias was waiting for, but not a frown of confusion.
Lucas didn't have time to care about Elias' arm that still slung itself across his chest, begging for attention.
'Are you curious?' It was a taunt. 'Do you wonder the secrets of the world that you've failed to save, several times over?'
He wasn't.
He didn't wonder about any secrets. All he wanted to do was hurry and leave Tartarus, find a suitable Title for Nora, and guarantee her life.
'Come now, oh dreamless dreamer.'
His ears twitched. It was a title, a name directed at nobody other than himself. And it was familiar, irritatingly so. As if he'd heard it a long time ago.
'Let me show you the truth that you've forgotten.''
The apocalypse was not to be trusted, and strange, unknown voices even less so. There was a high possibility it belonged to a Teller, and a powerful one, no doubt. Lucas sneered at the voice's attempts to lure him away.
'Even if I say that if not you, I'll find another to toy with. I'm quite enamored with the dashing hero that bears resemblance to you—the hero who died on the Throne.'
Lucas' entire body tensed, growing rigid from every joint in his body. Elias tightened his grip again.
Lucas was hearing or seeing something, and it wasn't anything good.
The others didn't notice his abnormality; Julian sobbed into Nora's arms instead while Adelaide laughed softly, patting him gently on the back. Only Kane looked in their direction, frowning.
It was as if a part of him felt that something was out of place, but since he couldn't determine what it was, he said nothing.
It wasn't an uncommon sight, Elias' flirting and Lucas' dull reactions.
But Elias had made a hobby of observing the little movements of Lucas, in memorizing the emotions that blanketed around the sponge.
At that moment, Lucas pried himself away from Elias' hold. Elias stared at his empty arms, feeling the lack of body warmth that had just been there, and looked up.
Lucas wasn't looking at him.
Not at him, and not at that important sibling of his who he'd finally reunited with, finally remembered.
Not at anything around them.
"I'll be back. I'm going to check something out quickly. Wait here."
Nora turned from Julian, still offering him a warm hug as he sniffled. "Is it important? It's dangerous alone, Lucas. Would you like us to come with you?"
"No. I'll be back soon."
"Lucas, let me go with you—" started Kane, before he was stopped by the shake of Lucas' firm head.
"Give me a minute."
"Now, now, darling. You won't refuse me, too, will you?" said Elias, hands casually sitting in the pockets of his long coat. "Though you know I like to do as I please."
"Stay," Lucas said, more firmly, finally meeting Elias' eyes. "Or all deals are off."
Elias tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his stare. "You don't mean that."
"Want to bet on it?"
Elias stared for a second longer before breaking his gaze, irritation evident in the slant of his shoulders. "One minute. I can't bear to be without you any longer."
There was a joking inclination in his tone, but his eyes remained cold and solemn.
Lucas nodded and walked off as if nothing was wrong. There shouldn't be anything wrong—so why did Elias feel this odd thing that squeezed his chest, and made him a little nauseous?
Ah, anxiety. It'd been a while since he felt that.
He watched as Lucas disappeared behind a pure white house, the only one with intact windows. Wren snickered, teasing. "He's trained you so well, haha, look how obedient you are~"
Elias glanced over. "Of course, I'll do whatever he tells me to."
"Gross, don't continue. It's only funny when I say it is." Wren waved her hand dismissively. "Be a little more pathetic, won't you? It's not fun otherwise."
"That's a side of myself reserved for Lucas."
"Stop—continue talking, and I think you'll make that poor doctor pass out." She gestured to Kane, who always looked pale and uncomfortable hearing Elias' flirtatious remarks.
Kane didn't discriminate against Lucas loving another man—he would be happy if Lucas was happy. But it was Elias, a sleazy, suspicious character, who made a terrible impression and didn't care in the slightest.
It was because Elias, in every lift of his heel, carried an air of danger that Kane didn't want to be intertwined with Lucas.
He would, absolutely, if Lucas insisted upon making a lover of that man, give his most genuine blessings. But! It was difficult! It would've helped if Elias at least pretended to have redeeming qualities, but he was a bastard and proud.
Wren seemed to read the doctor's thoughts and laughed again. She delighted in their misery—as long as it occurred with all limbs intact.
She opened her mouth to make another snide remark, and no words came out. Instead, a burst of pain bloomed in her chest, sharp and intense, forcing her to one knee.
Nora rushed forward, catching her as she fell. Wren stabilized herself on Nora's arm, smiling weakly at the woman gazing at her with worry and alarm.
Then another stab of pain twisted, and she gritted her teeth. One palm splayed on the filthy ground, she breathed heavily, sucking in a breath of air to relieve the unnatural pain.
"Wren? Wren, are you alright? What happened?"
Wren's fingers curled around Nora's arm. She lifted her head in the direction Lucas had vanished. Judging by the ghastly and gloomy expression ghosting over Elias' face, the pain hadn't been an illusion.
"The thing is," breathed Wren slowly, feeling the ache turn dull and distant. "With contracts between a Teller and a human, it forms a link. I can feel this invisible string that connects us. And, I don't know, but I can't feel it. Damn it, that means—"
"—Lucas has disappeared." Elias finished gravelly, and Wren nodded.
"Or he's dead, sorry to say. I can usually still feel him in most Stories, so that's the most likely—"
"He's not dead," stated Elias coldly, stripping away any pretenses of tease or casualness. His raven coat billowed around him, trapping his body like a second shadow. "He won't die."
"Hey, I didn't want to indulge in that idea either, but I'm being serious. Damn! I thought things would be different; it has been different. I—" Wren trailed off, snapping her head to Elias. "No, everything will be fine, and you know it. Right... right, I forgot."
Nora was confused by the sudden change in Wren's moods. "I'm hopeful that everything is fine, but what do you mean? Wren, why will it all be fine?"
But Wren wasn't looking at Nora; her gaze was fixed on Elias.
It was accusing and knowing, a sudden understanding pieced together by memory in her mind, weaving a tale that made too much sense to be a simple idea.
The woman stalked over, yanking the man down by the collar of his shirt, confusion knitted in her furrowed brows.
"It was you."
She'd been twisted and pulled with a veil of mystery hanging over her eyes, taunting her every step in all these cycles. With every reset of the world, every time everything rewound except for her.
Of course, she'd looked for the meaning behind it—with all the time to spare, why wouldn't she?
But the culprit was always too hidden, and whenever she got too close, it would be off with her head until she blinked and was alive again. Knowing that the culprit was one who could kill her told enough about their capabilities.
Some said that only at moments of extreme panic or emotion does one remember details they couldn't recall previously.
Wren had realized, meeting the only person who knew the ending of the world, that Lucas Silvius played an important part in the cycles. She just didn't know who was backing him—he himself didn't know.
Then in the red haze of her clouded memories, she saw it.
A cold pair of deep blue eyes, containing all the miseries of the world. A burning hatred of either reality, the End's Delusion, or both.
And Wren had a thought.
That Lucas' backer would likely remain close to the man. It would be a person who wandered in plain disguise without worry, with unfathomable power to their name.
Elias had been careless; he'd slipped.
He forgot to keep silent, revealing the things he knew and shouldn't have, the inhumane speed or the strange potions.
"It'll be fine," repeated Wren in a hiss. Her fingers curled tighter around the collar, and she knew that he needed to only shrug, and she'd be forced to let go. "It'll be fine, because every time that fool dies, he restarts the world."
Wren made an agreement a long time ago.
To a man with one arm and a bandage slung over one eye. A man with a person who wanted to save at the risk of everything else—somebody she suspected had a key involvement in the repeating cycles of the End's Delusion.
A man that a certain Catalyst was madly obsessed with watching.
She made a deal to remain a bystander, to accept any contract he offered if he decided to make one in the future.
In the beginning, why had she agreed to sign a contract with Lucas so easily?
She wasn't the most powerful, but she wasn't weak. She craved vengeance against her ex-lover; she always would take an opportunity to ensure his suffering, but really. It wasn't as if she couldn't do it herself if she really wanted to.
Of course, Lucas' help had been dearly amusing and easy to carry out, but there was no reason for a Teller to agree to the help of a human. Not unless they were rather compelled to.
But Wren, although intrigued by the fool that had wandered into her shop, had agreed because of a made with a deal made with a much more miserable, interesting hero.
One who killed an entire country to reset it. The Lucas who'd sacrificed everything.
Hadn't she been there? When the world was engulfed in flames and glowing threads, the remaining humans limp in strung tangles like puppets on a string. How their head lolled to the side, their eyes blank and inhuman.
She wanted to find his identity—the man who forced her into this stupid curse. Although the Teller who made her this abnormality was to blame, the mysterious figure infuriated her.
Elias' body turned rigid before his cold eyes scanned her, laughing darkly. Relaxed, he pried her fingers from his collar with an air of disinterest.
"Now, I must admit, I don't recall much of the past. I wondered how my memories could be blurred; the only person who could do that to me is myself. Or the consequence of overusing my abilities."
Wren wiped her hands on her pants as if touching him made them dirty. "You're welcome, I guess. For waking those memories up."
"I should thank Tartarus, where certain rules don't apply, and barriers in the mind deteriorate." Elias paused. "I don't remember you, though."
"Damn you—do you even know how much I suffered? How many times I had to freaking watch people die, and—and how lonely that is?" Wren sneered, raising her hands in exasperation as she realized he didn't care.
"Whatever. What will you do now that you remember?"
"I'll save him." Elias' gaze flickered, unreadable. "I need him to fulfill a promise he made me, naturally. I don't condone promise breakers."
"Yeah, yeah, you won't start everything again?"
It was his way of running away and escaping, assumed Wren bitterly. She'd wanted to murder the fool who made her repeat life over and over again, the same cursed fate every time.
Now that he was there, he wouldn't even let her swing a punch.
"I can't. I said this would be the last time—I remember that now. The last time, he bet everything on it, his memories, his life, this world."
"Fine, got it. I don't want to look at your face right now, god."
Wren spun on her heels and slumped against Nora, who listened with a wide gaze. She quickly caught Wren and patted the woman's back softly.
She couldn't understand Wren's frustrations—she hadn't lived them. But she was willing to indulge in the woman's sulking.
Elias lowered his head, staring absentmindedly at his hands. The thin threads that played with his fingers, wrapping around. He hadn't expected Wren's outburst or revelation, not when he'd hardly pieced everything together himself.
Then, in a low mutter heard by none, he said,
"Did you know? I never desired any of this, either."