The Five Realms

Chapter 39: Steven VIII

Chapter 39: Watchful Skies

The fire popped quietly between them, casting restless shadows against the sides of the nearby tents. Steven hunched forward, arms braced on his knees, letting the rising warmth push back the creeping chill. Beside him, Joey sat cross-legged with his bow laid across his lap like a sleeping pet. His face, half-lit by firelight, was unusually still.

The stars above were wrong.

Steven lay back on his elbows near the perimeter of the campfire, boots brushing pine needles, eyes scanning a night sky that shimmered like a riddle. The constellations looked like someone had taken the familiar ones—Orion, Ursa Major—and just... stirred them. A few bore eerie resemblances, uncanny cousins to Earth's celestial shapes, but none were quite right. It made his skin crawl, like he was in a dream he couldn't wake from.

"This whole sky's a lie," he muttered. "None of the constellations even try to make sense."

Joey cracked a faint smile. "Yeah. No North Star. No Waffle-shaped Pegasus."

"There is no Waffle-shaped Pegasus."

"There is if you believe hard enough," Joey replied, nudging him with an elbow.

Steven smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I still can't believe I'm here. I was supposed to be bombing SAT prep and deciding whether I wanted to rot in debt for a degree I'd hate."

"Ah yes," Joey said dryly, "the noble tradition of American self-destruction."

"Exactly. You?"

Joey was quiet for a beat. The fire reflected in his eyes like a secret flickering just out of reach. "I was gonna try out for Olympic qualifiers. Third year. Archery."

Steven glanced down at the bow across Joey's lap. "So this... isn't the worst timeline for your skill set."

Joey exhaled through his nose. "Still would've preferred bullseyes over, y'know... ancient metaphysical warlords."

Steven snorted. "Fair. But also, you almost died today. That's a fun memory."

Joey stiffened slightly, then gave a half-laugh. "Yeah. Falling into lava wasn't on my bingo card."

Steven leaned back on his palms. "You scared the shit outta everyone. I forgot you were fireproof."

"I forgot too," Joey admitted after a second. "Which... isn't super comforting."

Steven stared at him, then burst into a soft laugh. "Wait. What?"

Joey shrugged. "I didn't jump. It wasn't some brave stunt. I slipped. For one long second, I thought I was gonna die."

The fire popped again, louder this time. Steven looked back at it. "And then you swam in magma like it was a hot tub."

"I'm still not over how weird that was," Joey said. "Even knowing it didn't kill me... it messed me up."

Steven hesitated, then looked sideways. "Do you think we've actually gone insane? Like... maybe this is a group hallucination? I mean, dragons, alternate worlds, a magic test that blasted you across a field?"

Joey didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted upward toward the stars again.

"I don't think we're crazy," he said. "But I think we're starting to break."

Steven blinked. "You're usually the one telling me to chill."

"Yeah, well. Lava's humbling." Joey chuckled dryly, then glanced at the camp perimeter. "You ever think about your mom?"