OLLISANDER WAS GREETED BY THE FAMILIAR ROAR OF THE OCEAN. Or, of an ocean, to be more precise. The crashing of waves on sand was the ever-present soundtrack of his life, the sand beneath his palms soft and fine enough to feel like home. The wind whispered with a voice that cradled his slumbering mind, his own name rolling over his exposed skin. He must have fallen asleep resting in the sun on Dur’s shores, then. Perhaps all of the loss and loneliness and fear that had plagued his research was little more than a nightmare, and Kaelmorn had come down to the beach to wake him up. He sunk his fingers into the wet sand. Searing cold shocked him awake. Tumultuous waves pushed black sands up and over his legs and hips, the tide pushing the grains further up his torso as they came in. Ollisander pushed himself up to his elbows to avoid being buried entirely, the movement forcing a low groan up and out of his chest. The remnants of warmth he’d managed to trap behind clenched teeth slipped out with it. The chill tore through his soaked nightclothes and his skin to gnaw on his bones. Never before had such a lack of warmth plagued him. It was second nature to reach for his magic, seeking the spark innate within him, but found it snuffed out by the overwhelming weight of the cold. “Ah, hello.” It was undeniably Kaelmorn’s voice. He whipped his head in the direction of the sound, his every thought silenced by what he found. The thing looked like the lover he’d lost. It wore a simple robe, remnant of the one that hung in their bedroom. He’d memorized even the minimal bits of exposed skin so closely that Ollisander’s unskilled hands could paint them from memory. The creature clasped a spear in hands that were Kaelmorn’s, as well, and it so closely resembled Kairn’s spear that he wondered if the other Divine had lied about knowing where Kaelmorn was all along. As his gaze trailed to study the familiar face, he found the same full lips and striking eyes sweet curve to the cheek that had first rendered Ollisander speechless. And yet, though Kaelmorn’s amber eyes glowed in the dim light as they should, his expression was vacant of the life and excitement that made his lover effervescent and real. More striking than what was missing, however, was what had been added: antlers, sprouted from either side of the creature’s head, stretching out past the tips of his pointed ears. Ollisander blinked back tears that burned his eyes, and it seemed that they grew even in the heartbeat that his eyes were closed. It was cruel enough that this thing dared to speak with Kaelmorn’s voice. To wear his face as well was torturous. “Though I’m happy to see you, it is… strange, to find you here.” “Where…” — It was not the start of the question that burned at the back of Ollisander’s throat, who the fuck are you, but it was the only one that would not die on the back of his tongue. — “Where is here?” “Somewhere in between the mortal plane and the Celestial Sea.” The chimes that hung from each antler caught the breeze that wafted off of each wave, accentuating his every syllable for emphasis lacking in his tone. The sound caressed his face like a soft breeze, speaking his name in the same voice that had called him awake. “Not quite on land, but not quite lost at sea, either.” “So, on the shore.” It was sarcasm meant to protect himself, grumbled under his breath. Ollisander hadn’t intended for the words to reach the creature’s ears at all. But the thing laughed, and oh, had Ollisander missed the sound of Kaelmorn’s laugh. “On the shore, then.” “And why are you here?” Ollisander asked. “I am splitting from myself. While a part of me floats out in the Celestials with Hikkal, he fights tooth and nail against the inevitable change. I am here…” He tilted his head, eyes fluttering closed. The gentle rise and fall of his chest eased to a still, and Ollisander wondered if he was holding his breath so that he might listen to something. Ollisander parted his lips to prod for an answer, but the creature spoke again: “… so that I may grow, in spite of him.” The eyes opened once more, glowing with the same amber haze as the sun. “In spite of you.” Another wave crashed onto the shore, nearly knocking him back down into the sand. He pushed himself up, this time bending and flexing his legs to free them. Each movement sent prickles of pain skittering just under the surface of his skin, and he flinched. And again, the bells chimed and they begged him: Please, don’t. “I am going to find another way,” he spoke in spite of their warnings. “I promise.” “You will certainly try.” The fractured piece of his love offered an attempt at pity, the corner of his lips curling up. The bells chimed as another gust of wind rolled off of the water, whispering into Ollisander’s skin: Please, stop. The sand opened up as the wave slunk back towards the ocean, pulling him down. Even his hands sunk as he pushed down on his palms in an attempt to stop the descent. “The vacancy at the center of the Celestials beckons the end, and there is no one but me to fill it,” Kaelmorn continued. “The call grows louder and louder the longer we wait. If that call reaches the mortal realm, then everything crumbles away into nothingness.” Another pause sent another icy wave crashing over Ollisander’s legs, swallowing them whole as he sank down to his naval. “There is nothing at the end of this struggle, my love. I will step into the void eventually. While you fight for a doomed future, I can preserve you if you’ll just stop.” “Then why-?” Ollisander’s voice broke from the cold. “Why bring me here at all?” Please, just go! The bells cried out. “This is a never-ending cycle, I fear. You are deeply familiar to me. Your face, even when you glare at me as though I am a stranger, is a comfort that I crave. Many millennia from now, long after I wade into the Celestials and I forget who I am, a piece of me will remember you. Someday, I will manage to create a dull imitation of you from the fragments of my scattered mind. And then, on my own endless march into oblivion, the remnants of my longing will find me and cry out to me in a voice that sounds enough like yours for me to turn in search of you.” “And when you do?” It was hard to muster the words as the sand creeped up Ollisander’s chest. Every break burned from the cold. Through chattering teeth, he asked: “What happens then?” “Then the imitation of you will step into my place,” the words were no louder than a whisper, and yet Ollisander could still hear them over the rush of water, “and whoever lives in their heart will step into yours.” The sands creeped up to his collar bones now, ocean water splashing into his face when he tried to retort. Though he tried to kick, he found his legs numb; and when he tried to claw himself back up, he found only one of his hands still mobile enough to break the sand’s surface. As it did, Kaelmorn extended his own hand towards Ollisander. The hand he’d taken countless times before, outstretched towards him to offer salvation. “Come with me, Ollisander,” he begged. “We can end this. And then, we’ll start again.” How often had he let their intertwined fingers lead him along? One night had led to a short lifetime of trailing after long, white hair. He’d run willingly into immeasurable trouble. He’d tumbled into countless beds that they’d only ever spend a night in. He’d bandaged long, delicate fingers after skirmishes and he’d felt those hands in his hair in the early hours of the morning. It was as natural as instinct to reach back. As he did, he stared at the gold that dyed his love’s dark skin the color of the sun and knew that his own heart sat in the extended palm. “I can’t,” Ollisander dropped his hand, letting it sink back into the sand. Disappointment flashed across Kaelmorn’s stoic face. “I will never give up. You may as well spear me through the heart now; what you’re asking of me would be no different.” Before Kaelmorn could react, the ocean swelled and crashed down upon him, this time pushing him completely under the sand. Still, he could hear the bells and their whispers: Go, Ollisander. It followed him as he sunk further and further down, until he was so thoroughly buried that the sun could no longer slip through the minuscule space between grains. Go, and never come back.