Beyond Heaven's Gate | dreamnoblade

Chapter 1

Dream is too weak to travel through portals. Techno knows from experience, after carrying wounded allies from the battlefield and charting the quickest way to freedom, how the push and pull of a Nether portal could fell a weak man. It wasn't something written down and passed along as vital information, but instead a discovery that needed to be found out first-hand, while the limp weight of your friend weighs heavy on your back. If he had thought longer on it, considered how the portals felt even at the peak of health, he might have saved that now nameless corpse.

That's not to say he never needed such information again. It saved other faceless soldiers—their identities lost to the ages and forgotten from his mind—and it saves Dream today.

It's odd to carry an adult of Dream's size and yet not feel the strain of pressure. Dream's malnourished figure weighs next to nothing compared to Techno's strength, and his bones jut out from thin skin and digs uncomfortably into his shoulder from which he lay. Techno can feel the shallow yet even breathing that clues him in to the other's unconscious state. The stress of a sudden prison break and its fast-paced movement left Dream exhausted.

Techno only wished Dream could have experienced the rush of freedom that came from exiting the prison. Its alarm blares uselessly and clogs up his ears, making Techno keep a keener eye on his surroundings as he sneaks off into the woods, navigating hilly terrain until he meets back up with Carl. The black vault and its noisy call shrinks farther and farther away as Techno rides back towards his base. Dream continues to sleep, tied firmly to the saddle like Techno has done many times before when transporting large kills.

By the time Pandora's siren fades into nothing but a soft buzzing in his ear, dawn has broken out along the horizon.

Techno stops Carl next to a large oak, its trunk massive and telling of its years on the earth. He unties Dream, who remains limp and unresponsive, and sits him carefully against the tree's base. He doesn't know how long Dream will remain asleep, so Carl is his focus. The horse is breathing hard, its stamina—bred to perfection, as fast as a horse could possibly be—is depleted. As soon as Techno dismounted, Carl began munching on the sparse vegetation littering the forest floor.

Grass alone will not fill his steed. Five feet from where they stopped, a creek softly runs in unhurried movements. It was the only water source they came across for miles, so it'll have to do. Techno leads Carl over, makes sure the horse can drink safely, and turns back to care for his plus one.

Green eyes stare back.

Before the prison, Techno is sure that those eyes shone like polished emeralds in the light. He can picture it—luminescent irises that gleamed an ominous shade during war, soft verdurous circles that sparkled with amusement during pre-L'manberg times. It must have been an honor to gaze upon their hypnotic appearance.

As it was, their green pigment was rather dull. Almost a year without sunlight had taken a toll on their saturation, and the vivid green faded off into a washed-out mimic. Still, Techno could see their appeal, could make out the very faint fire that still burned within them. He couldn't wait to bring it back to life.

"G'mornin'," he settles on, for lack of a better conversation starter. Dream doesn't speak; He gives a slow blink in response.

The air is thick with tension, or maybe it's all in Techno's head. As the silence continues, the voices start back up again. They beg for communication, for Techno to offer food as a peace offering, for Techno to remember that they were currently being chased by the Warden's soldiers. The voices rose, overlapping in differing speech and ideas, until they became one long drone of static that Techno willed to leave.

Carl gave a snort from his place at the creek, and the world snaps back into motion.

"Hungry?" He summons a baked potato from his saddlebag, warm but no longer steaming, and oozing a buttery aroma. Dream's stomach growled in agreement, and the pale complexion of his cheeks flushes pink with embarrassment. He nods in careful movements.