You May as Well Break My Heart [Haikaveh]

Chapter three

The desert, already treacherous by day, became something far more sinister under the cold blanket of midnight.

Kaveh tugged his cloak tighter around himself as they trudged forward, the bitter wind gnawing at his exposed skin.

They had been walking for over an hour now, and if the Archon's directions were accurate, they should be nearing their destination.

Kaveh's thoughts were less settled now, but the longer they marched, the heavier the silence between them became, save for the occasional scrape of boots sinking into the ever-shifting sand.

His initial panic had simmered into something more manageable, yet each step felt like a cruel reminder of the growing distance between him and Alhaitham. He tried to focus on keeping his footing, battling the dunes that swallowed his shoes with every step, but the waves of emotion were relentless.

First came anger, hot and insistent. Kaveh stomped forward with renewed force, cursing Alhaitham in his mind. How could someone so careful, so frustratingly logical, have been so reckless? After all the lectures he'd given him about caution— He just goes and lets himself be trapped by some ancient, malfunctioning portal.

Kaveh could already picture it: the smug bastard brushing it off like it wasn't even a big deal. "I told you to be careful!" he'd shout, and Alhaitham would raise an eyebrow, maybe even smirk. He'd definitely owe him a fancy dinner for all this trouble.

As the minutes passed, he was then overcome with guilt, creeping in the moment his rage faltered.

Being objective, He had been the one who asked Alhaitham to join the expedition in the first place.

He had trusted the scribe's unparalleled knowledge, his ability to handle anything thrown his way. How could he have known this would happen?

Was it his fault?

Kaveh's heart sank further with each passing thought, his hand drifting to his mouth as he began biting his nails—a nervous habit he'd never fully outgrown. Anxiety gnawed at him, each fear louder than the last, until a light tap on his shoulder snapped him out of the spiral.

"You alright?" Cyno's voice was low, almost a murmur against the quiet of the night.

Kaveh blinked, momentarily disoriented. He hadn't even noticed how lost he had been in his thoughts. "I'm fine," he answered quickly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. "Just... a lot on my mind."

"Stop overthinking," Cyno replied, with a serious tone. "We should be getting close."

Kaveh nodded silently, and crossed his arms again.

Around them, the soldiers marched in silence, weapons drawn in case anything—or anyone—decided to ambush them. The stillness of the desert offered little comfort. For now, all was calm, but the air felt heavy, as if something was lurking just beyond the horizon.

Kaveh's gaze drifted across the group, his eyes eventually falling on the boy walking a few paces behind the others.

Hat Guy, or whatever he went by. Kaveh had never really paid much attention to him, but Lesser Lord Kusanali had insisted on his assistance. Why was he always trailing so far behind the group? He seemed almost detached, as if this entire mission were nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Why does he stay so distant?" Kaveh asked Cyno quietly, tilting his head towards his aloof figure.

Cyno shrugged, glancing briefly in the boy's direction. "From what I've heard from the Akademiya, he does things his own way. Kusanali said he's useful, though, so just let him be."