💎A Collision of Fates💎 (Straight to Gay) (MxM) (18+)

117 - Breck

Breck was numb. He didn't feel anything but grief, sadness, and despair. He was drifting, barely aware of what was happening. He knew that the battle was over, but the rest of it was a blur, little images that flashed into his mind, and then disappeared.

He was standing on a roof and looking down at The Square. The stone plaza was covered in corpses. Injured defenders screamed out for help, or grunted as their colleagues hoisted them up. Medics were scurrying around the battlefield like insects, helping out where they could, taking defenders away on stretchers.

It was too much. It was all too much.

His nephew was beside him. They exchanged words. What did they say to each other? Something about Kullver and something about The Palace. The words disappeared from Breck's mind quickly. Then, Mark, Djaro, Chris, and Vinton left. Breck didn't know where they went.

Then, he was in the chaos, down on the battlefield. Earth elels were straightening out the stones again, pushing them down. Beside him, someone was screaming out as their arm was sawed-off by a medic, blood was gushing, blood was pouring. Distantly, Esteck was screaming, crying out. Breck could hear him, could hear his voice. Some defenders were already loading corpses into carts, pulling them away, wasting no time.

Somehow, he ended up near The Matches. He stumbled around The Razor's Tail, and then leaned against a wall. He felt sick. He felt horribly sick. He was going to pass out. His legs were barely working.

"Breck."

He turned around. Finally, his brain seemed to focus on the man in front of him.

"Nick."

His soulmate came to him, and wrapped him in a tired, warm hug. Breck hugged him back, desperate for the connection, unable to think, unable to feel, unable to say anything.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry," Nick said.

Breck closed his eyes, and pulled Nick closer to him. He didn't say anything back, but he tightened the hug.

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A few hours after the end of the battle, the defenders regrouped in their old base, finding it mostly unchanged.

Breck and Nick walked through the base slowly, carefully. Nick was looking at Breck with concerned eyes, but there was nothing that Breck could do to make him feel better. His world was dark, suddenly. His grief was eating him alive. He still didn't know what to think. Had this whole thing been real?

Around the base, there were a few flags decorated with a single, golden column. It seemed that the cult had thought they would be taking up permanent residency in the city. When Breck saw one of the flags hanging down near the courtyard, fluttering gently, anger consumed him. He ripped it down with a grunt and threw it on the ground. Soon, the centre of the courtyard was full of dusty, dirty flags. Nick held his hand, and they watched as Jefflo set all of the flags aflame.

A few minutes later, all of the defenders were gathered in the courtyard, the ashes were swept away, and Commander Nills was named the head of the Sesstrian Defenders. A terrible appointment. The small, squat man could barely command a bath. Jefflo was named Commander of the Yevans, which was a better appointment, and Breck couldn't think of who he would've chosen, other than Nick, of course. Breck watched the whole thing impassively, trying to work through his thoughts, lost in a strange, misty grief. Around him, some of the defenders seemed to be doing the same, dirty faces watching the procession with hollow eyes.

After the hasty, official ceremony, the rebuilding began. Commander Nills had to stand at the top of a wooden podium to see over the crowd, and he loudly explained how they were going to secure the city, how they were going to be spending the rest of the day. Did it matter that they had all just fought in a war? Clearly not. Despite the exhausted faces around him, Commander Nills ordered that they continue to work.