Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Kavan could tell the moment he opened his eyes that his mortal had left him.

He's not quite sure how easily he could tell. It was probably how the scent of the surrounding cave turned differently. With Fyn by his side, the cave he considered his home smelled of lavender and ocean breeze. It could also probably be because of the warmth beside him before he had fallen asleep had disappeared. It left him with nothing but cold, barren walls that offered no comfort. And maybe it was about how his cave, who he considered was puny, especially with the size of him and the size of his wings, had turned inexplicably large.

And inside that inexplicable, cold, barren, and large cave, Kavan felt lonely.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he could tell that his mortal had left. There was no other explanation to the clawing inside of him. The mortal must have been a witch, having him, a powerful being feeling something that's akin to pain, something that only mortals should feel. Feeling much more horrible than he did hours before his sleep, he pushed himself up, groaning as he did.

The empty space behind me bothered him infinitely so.

Try as he might not to show it, his trusty serpent companion, Havu noticed.

"It bothers you," The serpent announced, loud and clear. Kavan kept quiet. What was he to say? There was no explanation about why it bothers him. The fact remains that it should definitely not. Mortals are fragile beings. He was a demon that guards the forest and the tiny village of Gashea that has long forgotten about him and feared him. Fyn's life was but a mere second of his. "You know that it should not."

Kavan averted his gaze, brooding softly at the counter as he felt his tail sway from left to right.

Havu slithered from the floor and stopped a few inches away from him. The serpent lifts its head, its eyes staring at the side of Kavan's face. Although the serpent did not say it, Kavan could already tell what their conversation would be about.

A few seconds later, Havu's voice echoed inside his mind once more.

"You have learned to value his presence." The serpent noted, "You are seeking it now that he is not here."

Kavan sneered, "I'm the only one to blame for my foolishness."

From where he was seated, Kavan slowly stood up. Careful not to extend too much energy more than he already did the past few days. Even though he was drifting off to sleep, he could hear Havu and Fyn's conversation. He could hear Havu tell Fyn about his powers. About how he has used it beyond its threshold, and now he needs more time to recuperate. The time that he's supposed to use in helping the beings inside of the forest he is spending inside his cave to regain the powers and energy he had lost.

He doesn't regret it.

Kavan knew he would spend most of his energy without thinking twice. He would fly to great lengths. May it be towards the settlement of the Næps, and may it be to heights that showcase the beauty of the sunset from the forest. He would do anything and everything just to get his mortal to smile like he did when he saw the sunset days ago.

Kavan had never seen something so beautiful as a mortal enjoying himself.

That's why he knew it was a good thing that Fyn had left. He was a distraction. Kavan had a duty within the forest. He was a guardian and emotions that were purely human should not sway him. He had responsibilities and duties that he should oversee. Not to mention the mortal's mortality. If he were to stay longer, Kavan would find himself more attached.

That was a bad thing because he knew it would devastate him once he was gone.

"It is not foolish," The serpent replied behind him, a certain hint of thoughtfulness in its voice. "It is alright to feel human sometimes, Kavan. May it be a serpent, human, or demon. We all feel emotions just the same. It is no one's fault, and it is completely normal."

Kavan shook his head, disagreeing.

"I have a responsibility," He states, "A responsibility for the villagers of Gashea, over the forest, over the beings inside of it. I cannot turn my back against it just because of some mortal emotions. There is something bigger going on. I haven't even figured out where the unfortunate events are coming from. The reason as to why there are drought, famine, and diseases is still unknown to me. With him here, I cannot focus."

Havu bobbed its head to the side, "Even without him, you cannot focus."

Kavan stood up straighter, already getting tired of talking with the serpent. There was nothing to say because regardless of what he feels, nothing could change. Black dots fill his vision, and he almost stumbled because of his feet, his knees giving out from under him. Phantom limbs that reminded him of Fyn entered his mind as if steadying him and not letting him fall.

But his mortal was gone, and it was just him and Havu.

Fyn was gone.

He fell down to the floor in a heap, his hands clutching the sides of his head.

"He will return," The serpent said, slithering near him and curling around his waist, "He is only grabbing the herbs that you need to get well. I will never understand why the forest does not grow it here within your reach. They know full well that you cannot leave because of the villagers, and they are also prohibiting you from doing so yourself."

Kavan didn't understand it either. Was the forest expecting him to leave?

Will they even allow him?

Nothing made sense, and he was too tired to understand.

"If he was smart," He started, looking out beyond the cave's entrance. The sky was turning orange, the sun setting, it was close to dark. Fyn was still outside, and Kavan doubts his immediate return. If his mortal was ever to return at all. "He would stay there. He wanted freedom, did he not?"

Slowly, Kavan tried standing once more, his knees wobbly, his eyes squinting from the pain that was throbbing his temple. He was tired, he was lonely, and it was infuriating him. Walking slowly, he approached the cave's entrance. The sudden urge to watch the sunset from the overlook just outside his cave hit him in an instant. As if his brain wanted to torture him more now that his mortal was gone.

"Master," He heard beside him. Turning his head sideways, he sees Havu, crawling slowly, as if matching his speed. Shaking his head, he averted his gaze back towards the cave's entrance. There was a certain's seriousness inside the serpent's eyes and Kavan knew whatever the serpent will say, will make him feel worse than he already did. "Do you remember what we did when the incident happened?"

Kavan knew the incident that Havu was talking about, but he was in no mood to talk about it.

That was why he stayed silent.

The serpent did not.

"You have given me something that is beyond words," The serpent started, its voice turning remorseful, "You have given me something that I cannot possibly repay."

Kavan grit his teeth, the entrance of the cave seeming farther than he expected.

He places his hands on the wall beside him, steadying his feet as he trudged on. The black dots still filling his vision, the throbbing in his head making his walk harder than it's supposed to be.

The serpent, unaware of his pain, kept talking.

"Master, I do not deserve this gift." Havu dart its tongue, "Fyn is a mortal, if you deem it necessary, it would be perfectly alright if-"

Kavan hissed, "Stop talking, Havu."

Once again, the serpent did not.

"When that eagle swooped down and killed me," Havu starts, narrating the incident that started their friendship. Almost immediately, the memory flashes inside of Kavan's brain. A certain twinge of sadness pulsating deep within him, reminding him that much like the mortals, he very much had a heart. "I thought that was the end of my life. Then you saw me, you saw what happened. You have given me half of your life. I knew that you wanted someone, something to journey with you for centuries, for as long as you are alive. That was why you have given it to me. You were lonely then, master. You had no one to share your life with. That was why you gave it to me."

Kavan kept quiet.

"It was not your fault," Havu told him, "The eagle was simply doing what nature intended. Between the two of us, I was at the bottom of the food chain. If you had been there earlier, I knew you would have rescued me. And yet I died, and you revived me, giving me half of your life. The past few centuries with you had been wonderful, master. I have enjoyed every minute of it."

"Stop talking, Havu," Kavan insisted, already knowing what the serpent was trying to say. "Stop it."

"I am aware that you were lonely then, that you feared facing your journey and responsibilities as the guardian of Gashea alone," Havu continued, as if he was reminiscing an old tale. As if Kavan had not told him to stop as much as he could. "It is different now, I could tell. Fyn is a nice man. He is kind, helpful, and determined. The Næp's enjoy his company, the forest likes him too. I cannot think of another companion that would suit you."

Kavan felt something rumble in his throat. His whole being felt rigid, something ugly and deep rumbled inside of him and he felt angry. Angry at himself for allowing such weakness. Angry at himself that he cannot think of something as a rebuttal to whatever Havu was insinuating.

The serpent had always been intelligent, that was one of the reasons he decided to give it half of his life after all. Havu was speaking the truth. Fyn was an amazing mortal.

Kavan knew that.

He growled, his eyes showing nothing but rage as he snarled at the serpent crawling beside him towards the cave's entrance.

"That is enough, Havu." He snapped. "I am tired of this."

For a moment, the serpent was silent. Kavan gladly took this opportunity to finish approaching the cave's entrance. Once he was there, he leaned against the cold, stone walls of his cave, overseeing the forest just below him. The smell of leaves, flowers, and herbs drifting through the air. He had never found himself getting sick of the scent. This time, he wants nothing more but to get but a simple whiff of lavender and ocean breeze.

The serpent spoke again after a moment of silence.

"I have lived more than what my life span truly is," Havu states. "Fyn is a mortal. Mortals die. There is no one else who I think deserves the gift you have given me more than he does."

Kavan bit his lip, averting his gaze, staring up at the sky.

"He will refuse," Kavan said softly, sadly. Whispered to the air. "I cannot give him the freedom he so desperately seeks. He will be miserable with me. If he was not foolish like me, he would leave and never return."

Kavan accepted his foolishness right then and there as he spoke to his companion.

If he had not been foolish, he would not have allowed such emotions to fester deep inside of him. To cling inside the crevices of the very human organ that he thought he did not have in the first place. He had let someone as tiny and as mortal as Fyn crawl inside of his heart, to stay there for as long as Kavan wanted.

Before he knew it, the sun had set, the stars had appeared, and dozens of constellations waiting to be formed were scattered all over the dark blanket up above him. He did not notice all of it. Did not even pay any attention to it.

His heart and his brain were on just one thing.

The only thing worth noting in that second was the inexplicable scent of lavender and ocean breeze drifting through the cool night air.

And he waited, and he waited until an entire minute had passed. As quickly as the scent appeared, so did the very mortal whose existence had bothered and irrevocably changed his life so. He became blind to the world around him, his eyes zoning in on the mortal walking a few feet away from him.

Maybe he wasn't the only one foolish between the two of them.

Maybe they were both just fools.

That was the only reasonable explanation as to why Fyn had returned. Returned to his side, within the forest who he knows will prohibit him from leaving once again. Returned clasping in his hands the herbs he needed to become well.

Before he could stop himself, he felt his feet moving, and in one swift motion, his arms had enveloped the mortal, and the deep, painful throbbing within his body had disappeared. It cracked into tiny pieces until nothing but warmth and peace had remained.

He was a fool.

And maybe, hopefully, so was Fyn.