VISION ✔️ || The Keepers of Astraela #1

25.1 || Of Roommates and Reincarnation

EMRYS

FOR ONCE, THE DARKNESS brought comfort.

Emrys had been outside for hours, watching its webs suffocate the evening sky until shadows drowned the world once more. Leaning his head back on the tree he sat against, his eyes fixated on the overhanging Corruption. The intricacy of its webs were far from visible to the average human's vision, but he took in every complex detail as if the light had never waned. It was almost hypnotizing.

Then again, the daze he felt while glancing at the sky was likely from the items he held close. After the day's events, nothing felt better than the bottle of Nectar in his lap and the half-smoked blunt between his fingers. They promised relief once he reached an inebriated state, brain lost somewhere between reality and bliss, but their assurance had been in vain. Memories continued to weigh his mind with muddled and confusing flashes.

Light filtered from the tavern in a growing stream. Emrys blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sudden change, a grayscale world now washed in oranges and yellows from the interior firelight.

"I wondered where you went." Mystia closed the back door of the tavern and sucked the color from their world once more. Finally back in her natural form, her crimson eyes lingered on the Nectar in his lap. "Noticed I was missing a bottle of Glowing Hell. I figured you must have scampered off with it."

Emrys took a long swig before tucking the bottle between his knees and chest. "I just needed time to think... but you already knew that."

Pushing away from the door, Mystia approached quietly and sat with her back against the tree across from his own. She studied him carefully, scrutiny unwavering as she took in every detail: from his nervous fingers tapping the neck of his bottle to the pulsating emotional aura he was sure to be lit up with.

None of it slipped by her. It never did.

"How are you feeling?"

Emrys shrugged in an almost robotic response. He knew it wouldn't please his friend, but there were no words to describe exactly how he felt.

Mystia held out a hand. "Let me see the damage."

Despite every part of him that wanted to resist, he swallowed his pride and offered his arm. With a light touch, she pushed back the sleeve of his flannel jacket. Back in his Phoenix form, there was no hiding the gray skin that had spread from his wrist nearly up to his elbow.

A quiet sigh left Mystia's lips as she ran her fingers across his forearm, sweeping over the rough texture. "What I wouldn't give for a spell to reverse this."

"There isn't one."

Emrys pulled his arm back to bring the herbal roll to his lips. It was hard to resist letting out a string of foul language when his trembling fingers nearly dropped the object.

"Don't say that." Mystia eyed him as he steadied himself long enough to take a drag. "We can always find something—"

"There isn't enough time. I can feel it, Myst. No matter what I do, or how much power I conserve, this damn curse is going to kill me." He ashed his cigarette in the grass, trying to ignore the weight of his words. "We just need to accept it."

Mystia lowered her gaze to the ashes glowing dim at her friend's side. When she drew her quivering lower lip between her teeth, a lump formed in Emrys' throat—a solid, impenetrable mass that reminded him just how much the aftermath would break one of his dearest friends.

Collecting herself with a deep breath, Mystia released the hold on her lip. "Then, I'll find a way to bring you back in far less than a thousand years. I won't rest until I do."