Chapter Text
Andrew keeps his promise as best he can, healing Abram’s wounds and giving him a place to escape to when he needs it. It’s enough for Abram, but he can tell it frustrates the other boy that he can’t do more. As it turns out, Andrew is unable to leave the temple no matter how much he may want to.
“They’ve sealed me here,” Andrew curses, venom in his voice and black mist seeping from his eyes. Abram wonders if Andrew notices as he paces another circle around where Abram sits silently. The new moon above them stretches out like a sharp grin in the dark of night, as if it finds the situation funny. Andrew stops pacing, in front of him is the tree under which Abram found the amulet and raises his hand once more. He pushes forward with all his strength, but it’s as if he’s hit an invisible wall. Upon pushing harder red runes appear, pulsing and angry. Andrew lowers his hand and starts to pace again.
Abram folds his arms over his knees and rests his cheek on them. “How did you not realize there was a seal over the temple sooner?”
There is a pause in Andrew’s movement, then the boy turns to stare at him as if he’s stupid. “I wasn’t awake.”
“Why don’t you try the amulet then, that’s how I get through,” Abram points out.
Andrew shakes his head. “The amulet was made for mortals, it won’t work for me.”
Abram sighs, a cool night breeze passes through the leaves overhead. The days are getting shorter, and new colors have begun winding their way into the landscape. It’s been months since he first found this place, since he first met Andrew, yet he still feels like he knows so little of the boy.
Andrew is a spirit, Abram supposes it makes sense he wouldn’t be able to use the amulet now, even if he once could. “Is there a way to break it?”
Andrew stops in front of him, eyes distant as he looks somewhere over Abram’s head. “There should be, it will take time, though.”
“How much time?” Time didn’t seem to touch Andrew in the way it did the rest of the world, sometimes it doesn’t seem like the boy realizes anytime has passed at all.
Andrew’s lips twitch downward. “I don’t know.”
Abram doesn’t like the thought of Andrew being trapped in here for the rest of eternity, doesn’t understand why the seal was put up. “Can the other spirits here leave?
Andrew stills, face blank. “I don’t know.”
“Then we should ask them,” Abram says, standing.
Andrew looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do, but Abram’s already moving further into the temple and Andrew can only follow reluctantly behind. Abram doesn’t know where he’s going, yet that doesn’t stop him. “You don’t know where they are,” Andrew points out.
Abram looks back at him, ducking under a half-fallen pillar, and gracefully weaving his way through the ruins. He’s grown quite familiar with the temple in the past months, it’s not surprising considering he spends almost every night wandering it with Andrew. Abram isn’t sure how he hasn’t been caught by his father yet, but he’s grateful for it. “Well, they avoid you, right?” Andrew frowns, but nods. “So, are there places you don’t go to in the temple?”
“Yes,” Andrew answers quietly, and Abram thinks his face looks a little paler in the darkness than it normally does.
“We can check there, then”
Andrew doesn’t say anything for a moment, his hand clenches around the overly large shirt he always wears, and his front teeth snag on his bottom lip. “Fine.”
He slips around Abram carefully, then takes a left. Abram follows him silently as they venture into a section of the temple he’s never been to before. It’s tucked away in a valley where the trees are thin, and the moon is able to shine brightly overhead. The ground is mostly rock, and, Abram realizes after a lingering look, that the rock is placed in a specific way. As if creating a giant pattern on the valley floor. The air is heavy around them, weighted with something dark, and the entire place smells vaguely like iron. In the center of the valley the rocks grow bigger and are piled on top of each other to form a sort of stage that’s in the shape of a crescent moon. In the center of the stage is stabbed a long, thin, object that seems to be embedded in the rock.
“What is that?” Abram asks, squinting his eyes to try and see it better in the darkness.
“A spear,” Andrew says, voice dull. Abram looks to him, worried, but Andrew stares straight ahead.
Abram opens his mouth to ask more but stops as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head slowly to find a wispy ball of light dancing along the rocks to their right.
Abram frowns. “Is that…”
“A spirit,” Andrew says from over his shoulder. “We’re going to have to catch it.”
Abram looks to the other boy, then looks to the small ball of light and frowns. “But…”
‘What?” Andrew takes a step closer, keeping his voice low. His eyes are trained on the little spirit, calculating.
“I thought it’d look more like you,” Abram says. “More like a person.”
Andrew pauses and looks at him, hesitation fleetingly crossing his face. “It’s… a low-level spirit.”
Abram guesses that makes sense
“How do we catch it?”
“You grab it.”
“Just like that?”
Andrew nods. “I’ll make it come towards you, and you grab it.”
“Okay...” Abram doesn’t think their plan sounds all that great, but Andrew disappears before he can say anything.
He reappears a moment later behind the wisp. The spirit reacts immediately, it’s gentle bob turning into a jerky jolt. It flees within the next second, straight towards Abram. Running a few steps forward Abram reaches out, encircles the spirit in his arms, pulls it to his chest, and stumbles forward. Abram stops before he falls, though, Andrew’s hand resting lightly against his arm and steadying him. The spirit clutched to his chest struggles, and Abram tightens his grip. It’s odd, like holding a solid type of cloud, but instead of emitting warmth like Abram expects it is cool to the touch.
“You did it,” Andrew says blankly.
Abram laughs. “I’m fast.”
“You are.” He lets go of Abram slowly, and looks around. The moon has crept high into the sky taking a place almost directly over the valley they stand in. It lines up perfectly with the spear sticking out of the rock.
Andrew shudders at the sight, and Abram startles, eyes wide as he watches the boy. Andrew’s face might be forced into indifference, but his eyes are another story. They look tormented almost, black mist swirling across silver as if driven by the winds of a storm.
“We should go,” Abram says into the quiet.
“Yes,” Andrew answers, but he doesn’t move.
“Andrew.”
Andrew stays silent, and without forethought Abram reaches over and lightly touches Andrew’s shoulder. Andrew flinches, hard, and Abram yanks his hand away hugging the spirit closer to his chest. Andrew stares at him with wide eyes, his breathing harsh. Abram takes a step back. “We should leave,” he repeats.
“Yes,” Andrew whispers, then turns on his heel and heads back the way they came.
Abram follows, only looking back to the valley once as they leave. He wonders what it is about the place that makes him feel so hollow inside.
“What was that place?”
Andrew looks back at him, something complicated playing over his face. It’s a long moment before he responds, “...it’s where I died.”
Abram doesn’t know what to say to that.
They arrive back at what is steadily becoming their tree and look to where the edge of the seal is located. It looks like nothing out of the ordinary, only visible when Andrew forces magic into it.
“Give me the spirit.” Andrew holds out his hand without looking at Abram. Abram places the little ball of light gently into his hand, making sure not to touch him as he does so.
Andrew grabs the little spirit, ignoring its increased struggling. Taking a step forward Andrew thrusts it towards the seal with little preamble, the spirit goes through easily. Without a spark of light or glow of runes, but Andrew’s hand stops abruptly when it hits the boundary line.
“Spirits can go through,” Andrew states, voice devoid of emotion.
The spirit in question seems to realize it's free, and hurries off in a streak of light. Abram steps forward as he watches it go, coming to stand by Andrew’s side. “Why was it so scared of you?”
“It thought I was going to eat it,” Andrew says bluntly.
“Do you do that often?”
Andrew turns to look at him, not saying anything. His eyes flash, and the trees around them creak and groan. Wind whips the air, ruffling Andrew’s pale locks into a fluffy mess. It’s so ridiculous that Abram lets out a snort. Andrew frowns at him, then brushes past with a huff, shoulder gently pushing against Abram’s.
Abram turns alongside him. “How are we going to break the seal?”
“We’re not.”
A question hangs in the air between them, and Andrew sighs. “The magic here is too powerful, we can’t break it, but maybe we can crack it.”
“How?”
“Do you know any magic?” Andrew asks. Looking to the sky.
Abram shakes his head.
“Then I’ll teach you.”
______________
“The equinox is happening soon,” Andrew says from where he sits next to Abram. There’s a little flame burning in Abram’s palm, its light flickering over the two boys and casting dancing shadows over the trees. Andrew had tried to initially teach Abram ways to cast runes for protection, but after multiple failed attempts switched his tactics. It is a slow process, but Abram can now at least find his magic, and with Andrew’s help use it. It’s all he can do for now, but slowly he’s learning more. Andrew has a plan to crack the seal, they just need time.
Andrew has a lot of that, Abram not so much.
The fire jumps across his fingers. It is warm, but not hot. It doesn’t burn him like the heated metal his father likes to use on his skin, but Abram knows he could burn others with it if he wanted to. He does not want to.
“What happens during the equinox?” Abram asks, looking at him. The little fire flickers out when he stops concentrating on it, sending them back into shadow. Andrew leans closer and cups a hand over Abram’s, igniting the flame again. It’s white this time, powered by Andrew’s magic, and oddly cool. Less like holding flame, and more like concentrated moonlight deciding to look like flame.
“This temple was built for the moon,” Andrew explains, moving away from Abram. “The equinox used to be celebrated here.”
“It’s not anymore,” Abram points out. The temple is long forgotten by now.
Andrew rolls his eyes. “Yes, not anymore, but there is still strong magic that lingers here. During the equinox even more so.”
Abram brings the light closer to his face and blows on it. The air makes it dance and bob like the little spirits he’ll sometimes encounter in the forest. He’s still yet to see one like Andrew, but when he asks the boy just shrugs and tells him they’re out there somewhere.
“Do you think that magic could help us crack the seal?”
“...possibly.” Andrew says dryly. “Or not. You should come either way.”
Abram looks up at him, but Andrew’s face is turned away. “Alright.”
________________
The equinox arrives sooner than Abram expects, and it’s with tired limbs and weary eyes that Abram trudges into the dark forest to find Andrew. His father has decided to officially start Abram’s training as his heir, which means Abram is spending more time in the man’s presence than he would ever wish to. The stench of blood seems to have soaked permanently into his nose, and Abram shudders when he remembers what exactly it was his father did to the spy Emperor Moriyama sent him.
What he made Abram do.
Andrew’s blessing might make him heal faster, and it might make it so he isn’t wounded as easily, but it can’t protect Abram from himself.
Abram stumbles into the temple attempting to shake the thought away, but halts a moment later as a finger presses against his lips. Abram jerks his head up to find Andrew in front of him, and the boy makes a shushing noise before glancing behind him. It puts Abram on edge, but he clamps his mouth shut and watches the boy.
After a few seconds of silence Andrew lowers his hand and turns back to Abram. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
Andrew sighs. “Close your eyes.”
Abram stares at him for a long moment then shuts his eyes. Andrew gently takes his hand and leads him farther into the temple. Abram keeps his eyes shut, for the most part, the path isn’t flat. Roots pull and tug at his feet with little remorse.
The two boys come to an abrupt halt some ten minutes later, and Andrew quickly lets go of Abram’s hand leaving him in isolated darkness. Abram opens his mouth to say something, but a finger is pressed against his lips again a second later. “Open your eyes.”
Abram does reluctantly, gaze trained on Andrew who stares back, eyes full moon bright. His face is less guarded than usual, and as Abram stares, he realizes there’s something different about Andrew. It’s as if a faint light is coming from the entirety of his being, like magic is flowing from his pores. Andrew point’s behind him. “Look.”
Abram turns around and can’t hold back the gasp that escapes his lips. They’re in an old amphitheater they’ve visited many times before, but it’s different now. The forest around them is alight with magic, runes glowing from the trunks of trees create intricate patterns that stretch for miles into the forest. There are small spirits flitting about, seemingly uncaring about Andrew’s presence, and Abram thinks he can hear soft notes of music flowing through the air.
“What is this?” Abram asks in awe.
Andrew stands beside him, brushing his shoulder against Abram’s. There’s slight amusement in his voice when he answers, “Magic.”
Abram can’t look away from his surroundings and doesn’t catch the way Andrew’s eyes linger on his face. “Oh.”
It’s almost as if the temple is slowly rebuilding itself through light.
“Do you want to see more?”
“Yes.”