‘It’s an inevitability.’
I watch him lay the child’s body in the snow, kneeling, his sword on the ground next to him. The soft white blanket embraces the small body in a poor imitation of warmth. Childe watches the ground wrap itself around him, head bowed.
‘I see him sometimes,’ he begins. ‘Not a memory. Not here, either. He simply is. And he doesn’t know he’s supposed to be dead.’
I open my mouth, close it again. He takes a deep breath and looks away.
‘Let’s go.’
I follow him, forcing myself to look in front of me. His sword is back in his hand, still stained red.
‘I’ll get us out of this place first,’ he is muttering when I catch up to him. ‘My memories are affecting the dream more than I thought they would.’
‘Is this your home?’ I ask him.
Childe almost smiles. ‘Morepesok. Small village, so you’ve probably never heard of it. But it is—was home.’
He passes me his scarf. I take it.
There, in the distance, the ink dark sea again. Childe visibly brightens at the sight and half runs, half stumbles through the snow in his haste to get through it. I follow behind at a more reasonable pace.
‘Ahh.’ I flinch when he thrusts a bare hand into the sea, the toes of his shoes barely touching the shoreline. ‘Much better. I can think now.’
He breathes slowly, then opens his eyes.
‘Ignore anything I may have said.’ He puts his other hand in the water. ‘The mind fogs over at first. Alright, tell me. Where did you find the dragon?’
‘What happened to the boy?’
Childe looks at me, head tilted, his confusion palpable. ‘What boy?’
‘The boy.’ I must sound insane. ‘The boy you…’
I almost jump when I see it. The sword tucked into his belt is completely spotless, the curve of its blade shining in the winter sun.
‘Are you sure you’re not hallucinating?’ he asks me. ‘Dreams do get pretty weird sometimes. You see things that haven’t even happened yet.’
I shake my head. ‘Forget it.’
‘Stay close to me, all right?’ He extends a hand, pauses, then retracts it. ‘You tell me where to go.’
If he knows what I am, what I can do, he doesn’t show it. Even if he did… he trusts me to show him where to go.
‘I’ll try.’
At that very moment, the snow bubbles beneath my feet, snapping us up like a plant with two hapless insects. On instinct, I reach out and grab Childe’s hand, ignoring the soft noise he lets out at the contact.
Darkness envelops us, and we fall.
~~~
I keep my consciousness throughout this fall. The snow around me, pressing in on my head, feels colder and colder as time goes on, but Childe’s skin through his suit is blazingly warm. Like a brand, burning into my hand, but I hold on.
I have no doubts about whether I will find the correct way. I do not remember ever wanting something back so much. Even if all that is left of her is fragments, she deserves to have her memories kept by someone who will truly understand them.
Then the ground spits us out.
I peel my face away from the ground. Wet, fleshy, and pulsating. I attempt to open my eyes before realising that I am simply in complete darkness. I reach out around me, muttering Childe’s name under my breath, but he is gone.
I find my footing and stand up, unsteady on the hungry ground. It squelches underneath my feet.
Should I start walking? Despite being familiar with this part of the dream, it is ultimately uncharted. And if Childe can’t find me… but he’s been here before, I’m sure of that. How familiar is he with it, then? Could he navigate this landscape in complete darkness?
The sound of tearing fabric shakes me out of my reverie. I have to shield my eyes as the ground before me rips in two, revealing the brilliant, pulsing stars that sear my skin with their burning heat. I back away, squinting, using what limited light I have to take in my surroundings.
Across the rift, a singular large, blue eye captures the light. I see the figure shift to its clumsy legs, its too-large claws braced against the ground. A glittering cape of stars flares out from behind it. It lopes forward, skirting around the rift, like a curious deer.
At the edge of the rift, I can see it more clearly. We’ve met before, though he likely doesn’t remember it. Or rather, I’ve met the boy whose skin it wore. It tilts its head, its white horns now graced with a smooth coating of starlight. He’s larger now, all grown up.
I raise my hand to wave at it. It looks at me, scratches a horn with a claw.
I am too focused on it to notice the second figure, barely out of sight in the surrounding darkness. Before I can react, a hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me away from the creature. Childe, his suit immaculate, eyes devouring the light of the rift, brandishes his sword, his expression completely blank.
They both charge at once, meeting next to the rift. The creature swipes with its claws, but Childe is faster, dodging the hit and hitting it in the side with the hilt of his sword. I hear the crack of ribs, the screech of the creature, travelling into the void and never returning.
The creature flails, its inexperience evident in its panicked limp. There are those sobs again, so soft and so pitiful in this endless dark, as it tries to turn away. Childe swings his blade, resolute.
I turn away from the splatter of gore that coats Childe’s face and clothes. Red. Red like the trees, red like Childe’s scarf, tossed over one shoulder as he slashes once more at the twitching corpse, separating what remains of its skull from its body. He doesn’t stop there, flipping the sword into a reverse grip and stabbing into the too-small ribcage.
He notices me looking, but doesn’t stop. I must have asked him why, because he answers.
‘An incomplete metamorphosis,’ he says, wiping his blood-splattered cheek. ‘Imperfect for his intended purpose. Weak branches must be trimmed so the strong can survive.’
I don’t know how to respond.
Childe continues, ‘You don’t seem to understand.’
I shake my head. He shrugs, too carefree an action for what he had just done. ‘I am always getting stronger. Each moult, each new dream I see with my own eyes, each god I devour. If a stronger Tartaglia kills me in this dream, so be it.’
This is the first time I’ve heard him use his official name. He looks from me to the rift, turning his sword over and over in his hand.
‘Did you tear this dream apart? Or did I? It doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re strong. Well, then.’ He hands the sword to me, hilt first. ‘Fight me.’
‘Childe,’ I say. ‘Do you remember what we are here to do?’
‘I came here for a fight. A fight you promised me. You don’t have to pretend anymore.’ The icy undertone makes me take one step back. ‘You’re not human. Neither am I. Give me a fight I can remember.’
‘Childe.’ I step forward and grab his arm, feeling the muscle tense beneath my grasp. ‘Snap out of it.’
He tilts his head. The devoured stars shine through his eyes in the light of the rift. I lean in closer, grab his other hand. Hold my breath when I begin to smell copper. ‘Come back to me,’ I say. ‘You promised me.’
I can feel his breath catch when I tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. The sword drops from his grip and he gasps, his whole body going limp and slumping into my arms. His breath quickens, as if it had taken him everything to do that.
‘I said… I said I’d help.’ He shakes his head, lifting his gaze to meet mine, his eyes dull once more. ‘Dear gods. What was I saying?’
I don’t answer, letting him find his footing. He stands unsteadily, his suit spotlessly clean once more. No—not a suit. All he is wearing are the plain shirt and pants he wore in his apartment.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he mutters, more to himself than me. Louder now, ‘I messed up. I didn’t expect this dream to be so… messy. I shouldn’t have brought you in here.’
‘It seems as though you are the one who is struggling more.’
He looks away, a furious red colouring his cheeks.
‘We can go back,’ I offer, hoping and hoping for him to say no. ‘Your wellbeing comes first.’
‘This is embarrassing for me,’ he says. ‘I say I’m an expert, but you’re not the one shattering across your past and future selves. Who did you meet just now?’
I decide to be honest this time. ‘You. Not you, but definitely related in some capacity. He…’
‘What did he do?’
I don’t miss the note of panic in Childe’s voice.
‘He… he was the one that met me in the snow… Morepesok, he said. His home. Strangely, he seemed to remember our initial task then…’
I leave out the small, bloodied body of his younger self. Childe runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it. ‘Must have been my future self, then. Would explain why we didn’t split. We were close enough, time wise.’
I turn away from the rift, taking in my surroundings Childe reaches out, and I feel him hesitate before he taps me on the shoulder.
‘Just asking. Did you meet any of my other selves?’
‘Just one.’ I turn to him. ‘A young boy. He taught me how to fish.’
‘Ah.’ Is that relief I see in his face? ‘May he rest beneath the snow.’
I look away under the pretence of finding a path.
~~~
I know the way, straying further and further away from the rift until we are shrouded in complete darkness. Childe trails behind me, his footfalls completely silent. I consider asking him how he will fight like this, but it is easier for him to show me when the time comes.
He’s not doing so well. The way he moves, twitchy and cautious, reminds me of a hunted animal. I consider falling back to walk close to him, but I need to lead.
The ground attempts to swallow me. I almost bargain with it, through my desperate, heaving steps and gritted teeth. Just a few more steps. I know I am close.
Then, in the distance, light. Not the blinding light of a rift, but the warm glow of a porch light. The light of home.
Childe sees it too, inhaling sharply. We fight against the ground to reach the foyer, refusing to surrender when we are so close. When I first step on the tiled floor, solid and familiar, I feel safe enough to let out a long, low breath.
‘Wait,’ I say when Childe reaches towards the door. ‘Give me a moment.’
He frowns. ‘I thought you’d want this to be over quickly.’ He obliges, however, joining me to lean against a wall, letting his feet dangle over the lightless void. ‘This is your apartment.’
I nod. No point in lying here.
He hums an unfamiliar tune, swinging his legs back and forth. I feel the vibrations of his humming through the wall.
‘Childe,’ I say to him. He turns to me, suddenly unnervingly still. ‘Before you… do your job. I wish to negotiate with it.’
‘Hah. You won’t get anything out of it. None of them can understand us, and we can never understand them.’
‘Still,’ I say quietly. ‘I would like to try.’
He shrugs. ‘I’ll wait for you here. Just call for me if you need help.’
My breathing feels steadier, and so do my legs. When I stand up, Childe is leaning against the wall, still motionless. The reflections of the porch lights in his eyes look like specks of stars.
I head towards the door, his gaze still on me. Not allowing myself a moment of hesitation, I turn the doorknob and enter.
The door closes behind me with a soft click. I step into the living room, into the light, where a heap of scaly coils lie upon a couch. With a low rumble, it uncurls itself, lifting its magnificent, antlered head.
I hold up my hands. ‘I need to talk to you.’
if honkai star rail fans find this plotline familiar it is because i wrote this while high on the penacony sauce. don't regret it at all bc this is so fun