Chapter 24: Chapter 24

“That was a terribly long slumber.”

Fyn rubbed his eyes, blinking warily as light invaded his vision. Slowly, he pushed himself up, confused. There was something heavy on his chest and when he tipped his head down, he saw Havu, curled in a ball on top of his chest. The serpent lifted its head, tilting it as if bowing, and darted its forked tongue out.

“Hello, Fyn,” the serpent’s voice echoed inside his head. “That was a terribly long slumber.”

Fyn pushed himself up, carefully placing Havu down on his lap, “What happened?”

Havu met his gaze, tilting its head to the side. As if in a trance, Havu crawled off his chest and walked towards the entrance of Kavan’s cave. Running his hand through his hair, Fyn pushed himself up, stretching his arms up in the air to get his blood pumping. A groan escaped his lips when he stretched too far up, a pain erupting on his side.

Furrowing his brows, he looked down on his stomach. He lifted his blouse, but there was nothing on his skin. There were no open wounds, infection, nor were there any bruises. The pain he felt was real, but he was still probably dreaming. With that in mind, he snapped his fingers. Walking briskly towards the serpent, he spoke, “I had such a weird dream, Havu.”

“Hm,” the serpent noted, looking at him through the side of his eye, “Tell me about it, Fyn.”

“I was in my hut,” Fyn started, remembering his dream vividly. “Everything was different. There was no forest, no offerings. And… my parents were there.”

They reached the entrance of the cave, and Havu crawled to the overlook. Following the serpent, Fyn sat down by the cliff, careful not to look down on the waterfall that caused the deaths of the women offered before him. His legs hung off the edge, and he leaned back as he stared at the forest in front of him.

“It was strange,” Fyn continued when the serpent didn’t say a word. “They disappeared when I was young. I barely remember what they look like. Still, in my dream, I knew it was them.”

Finally, Havu replied. The serpent barely looked at Fyn, it simply stared at the horizon.

“There are often memories that we thought we have forgotten,” The serpent replied, crawling dangerously close to the cliff. Fyn bit his lip, ready to warn the serpent to stay somewhere safe or he could fall and hurt itself. “But deep in our minds, we know what they are. We have simply repressed the thoughts. That might be why you thought you forgot what they looked like, even when in reality, you never did.”

Fyn rubbed his chin in thought, “I never thought about that.”

“What did they do?”

“In my dream?” Fyn contemplated. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck, “It was really strange, Havu. In my dream, I was back in the hut. My parents were there, and it was as if they had always been. Everything was different, and not the good kind. I was engaged to someone. Can you believe that?”

Havu darted its tongue, still not looking at him.

Fyn frowned. He was about to open his mouth, to ask why the serpent wasn’t meeting his gaze when Havu’s voice echoed inside his mind. “That must have been odd for you, Fyn. Especially since you have an affection for someone else, do you not?”

A long pause, then Fyn felt blood rush to his cheeks.

“Huh?” He stuttered, feeling all sorts of rattled. Clearing his throat, Fyn averted his gaze and stared out at the horizon. The sun was barely setting, and as the wind brushed against his cheeks, he knew it was soon going to be nightfall. Biting the inside of his cheek, Fyn decided it was time to be truthful. Havu deserved that. He admits, “Yes, it was indeed strange.”

Havu glanced his way, then set its gaze back towards the horizon, “I believe the both of you will be happy.”

“Ah,” Fyn felt his cheeks turning red again, and judging with the warmth on his cheeks, he knew he was probably as red as a tomato. Scratching his cheeks, he cleared his throat, feeling something that he could only explain as butterflies fluttering inside of him. He chuckled nervously, “I’m happy just knowing that he’s beside me. And well, you too, Havu.”

“You should tell him,” Havu advised almost idly, even though its words were anything but. “I am almost certain the master feels the same way.”

Fyn bit his lips, “And if he doesn’t?”

“There is no answer for that,” Havu answered. “Because I have no doubt that the master holds affection for you, as you do for him.”

Fyn stiffened. Taking a shaky breath, he extended his arm towards Havu.

It confused him when the serpent stayed in its position, barely moving. There was something wrong and peculiar about Havu today, Fyn decided. Usually, whenever he extended his arm towards the serpent, it wouldn’t waste any second and curl around his arm, climbing towards his neck to curl itself around him.

“Havu?” Fyn asked. “Are you alright?”

The serpent nodded, “I am glad you told me about your parents, Fyn.”

Fyn didn’t miss the way that the serpent changed the subject. Still, whatever Havu was thinking about must be really sensitive if it opted not to talk to Fyn about it. He smiled, reaching for the serpent once more, “Of course I would tell you about them. We’re friends, aren’t we… Havu?”

His hand didn’t reach Havu.

Instead, it went through the serpent, as if Havu was not even there.

“What?” Fyn stuttered, quickly moving his hand back in shock. “Havu?”

This time, Havu faced his way. Fyn stared as the serpent met his gaze. His eyes widened the same way his mouth dropped open. Havu was there, but not entirely. He could see through the serpent. That wasn’t normal, was it? Blinking in confusion, Fyn tried to reach for Havu again, only to be met by air, only for his hand to go through his friend.

“Havu?”

The serpent bowed its head in his direction, “I am glad you told me about your parents, Fyn.”

“Havu?” Fyn asked, slowly crawling towards the serpent. “What’s going on?”

“I was thinking,” The serpent continued, as if Fyn had not asked a question. “If you could remember how your parents looked like, despite not having seen them in years, then that must mean you would not forget about me.”

Fyn did not understand why Havu had said what it just did.

“I will never forget about you,” Fyn assured him. “But why are you talking like you’re going to leave?”

“All things have their endings, I suppose,” Havu told him. “That sounds dramatic, does it not?”

Even though Havu’s voice had a tilt of teasing in it, Fyn frowned. He wasn’t liking the morbid talk coming from Havu. It was like the serpent was putting an invisible wall between the two of them. Gritting his teeth, Fyn leaned down towards the serpent, reaching for it again. With each try he did, he had failed. Tears pricked the corner of his eye in annoyance.

“Quit it!”

Havu tilted its head to the side, “It would make me happy if the both of you are.”

“Stop talking like that,” Fyn hissed, “Where’s Kavan?”

Fyn looked sideways towards the horizon. The sun had already set, putting everything in a somewhat orange glow. Birds flew from trees and wind seemed to pick up. The moon was barely visible up in the sky, and Fyn wondered just how long it would be before Kavan would come home. He knew the demon wouldn’t at all appreciate how Havu was talking right now.

The serpent did not answer.

“Where is he, Havu?”

Fyn knew that serpents weren’t capable of facial movements. Still, in that moment, when he had asked that question, Fyn was certain the serpent smiled at him. Goosebumps peppered his skin and he opened his mouth, ready to tell the serpent to stop whatever it was doing. It was scaring him, as if he hadn’t already been scared enough.

With Kavan getting sick, with the fire, with-

Fyn froze.

Carefully, he turned sideways again, looking at the forest.

“Havu,” He wet his lips, afraid to ask. “There was a fire, wasn’t there?”

The forest was basked in orange light. If Fyn narrowed his eyes, he could see smoke coming from the chimneys of the huts and houses from the village of Gashea. It was like a fire hadn’t even happened. Which was preposterous. There had been a fire. He remembered just that much. Fyn could recall how hot the forest was, how he woke up in a pool of his own sweat, how they flew up in the sky, how Kavan and him faced the villagers. They were angry, calling him names, calling Kavan names.

And then he remembered, quick as a flash, the arrow.

Someone had shot him with an arrow.

Gasping, Fyn quickly pulled on his blouse. His eyes widened when he saw a puncture wound that was slowly closing on the side of his stomach. Blinking, Fyn lifted his gaze, about to ask Havu what just happened and where Kavan was.

Havu met his gaze.

Fyn opened his mouth to speak, except he didn’t get a chance to. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish but no words were coming out. The sound of the forest turned into a ringing in his ears, and Fyn felt something heavy in his heart. He tried again, opening his mouth to speak. There was nothing but silence. Traitorous tears fell from his eyes and he crawled towards Havu, attempting to touch his friend once more.

Like it did moments ago, Fyn’s hand went through Havu and he touched air.

His mouth formed the words he wanted to say.

‘Where is Kavan?’

‘What is happening?’

‘Why are you speaking as if this is the last time we would ever speak?’

No words came out.

And Havu seemed to smile again. With another bow, the serpent’s voice echoed inside his mind.

“He is waiting for you,” Havu said, and Fyn watched as the serpent ever so slowly started fading into the air. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he attempted to grab Havu once more, only again meeting air, his hands touching nothing. “My only wish is for the both of you to be happy. Do not forget me, as I would not forget you. Both of you.”

And then Havu was gone.

Then there was nothing but darkness.

Fyn woke with a gasp, pushing himself up.

Pain erupted from his side and he groaned immediately, his hand going towards the side of his stomach. His hand felt something hard, and when he looked down, he saw medicinal leaves pressed against his skin, soaked in blood.

“Do not move,” A voice says. “You will hurt yourself.”

Blinking in confusion, Fyn turned towards the direction of the voice. Not at all surprised that it was Kavan who had spoken. The demon’s eyes were downcast as he threw wood in the fire. The fire grew, lighting the cave into an orange glow, much like in his dream. Fyn stared at it as his mind kept repeating what happened inside of his mind and dreams.

Finally he asked, “Where is Havu?”

Fyn didn’t miss the way that the demon flinched, dropping the pile of lumber in his hands directly into the fire. A pit of despair crawled inside of Fyn’s stomach as he asked once more, “Where is he?”

Kavan lifted his head, their eyes meeting.

Fyn froze.

“You weren’t breathing,” Tears rolled down his face. “And you fell in my arms, dead.”

Fyn felt his breath hitch, feeling fat tears roll down his face too. Quickly, he stood up, wincing as the pain from his side coursed through his body. He couldn’t care less. Kavan was crying in front of him. That was all that mattered. When he got close, Fyn wrapped his arms around Kavan, feeling strong warm arms wrap around him just the same.

“You were cold,” Kavan’s voice was shaky, breathless. “You were cold and... I felt cold.”

Fyn choked a sob. Kavan was shaking, and it was like he couldn’t stop.

“I’m here,” Fyn assured him. “Because of you, I’m here. I’m safe.”

Kavan shook his head, still shaking, “Havu is to thank, not me.”

Sniffing, Fyn pulled away. Kavan took a deep breath, before he closed his eyes. The demon leaned his forehead against Fyn’s, careful not to let his antlers hit the mortal. “He sacrificed himself for you, Fyn.”

Fyn felt his lips tremble, “He was in my dream.”

“He...was?” Kavan drawled, his eyes misty as more tears rolled down his face. “Did he...say anything?”

Fyn sniffed, lifting his gaze. He pressed his lips together, brushing the tears away from Kavan’s face. The demon leaned into his touch, his eyes closed. “He told us to be happy. That we should not forget about him.”

Kavan chuckled sadly, “He is ridiculous if he thought I would simply forget his existence.”

“That wasn’t all,” Fyn spoke, “He told me one more thing.”

“What is it?”

Fyn was quiet for a moment, “Where is Havu?”

“Havu had lived for as long as I could remember,” Kavan explained. “When I transferred the gift of Life from him to you, all the centuries rushed back into Havu all at once, rendering our friend to nothing but dust within a minute.”

Fyn felt another wave of sadness enter him.

Havu was gone. And it was his fault.

Like a joke, he remembered what Hana said. ‘It was all his fault.’

“Worry not,” Kavan muttered, this time, it was his turn to wipe the tears away from Fyn’s face. “He told me nothing would make him happier. He told me it would be alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Fyn said softly, pressing his face against Kavan’s chest. With his eyes closed, he could feel the steady breathing of Kavan’s heart. His lips trembled once more, agony and pain rushing into him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Kavan muttered. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for not being able to forget you.”

“No,” Fyn said. “It was-”

A strong wind flew inside the cave, blowing the fire out.

A sound similar to that of a snake hissing echoed and bounced around the walls of the caves.

Fyn froze, “Was that…?”

“Most probably,” Kavan muttered softly. “He does not like it when we fight.”

There was silence.

Then the cave filled with silent nervous chuckles.

Some from Fyn.

Most from Kavan.

“That wasn’t the only thing that Havu told me.” Fyn spoke after a while.

Kavan tilted his head, his hand brushing Fyn’s cheek once more. As if he couldn’t stop himself from touching him. As if he needed reassurance that he was there, in front of him. Fyn felt his heart beating rapidly against his chest, and could feel the warmth inside of him as his eyes met Kavan’s. Slowly, he lifted his hand, covering Kavan’s that was on the side of his face.

“He told me,” He started, his other hand circling around Kavan’s neck. “That I should be honest.”

There was a confused expression on Kavan’s face.

“I do not understand.”

Fyn smiled softly, “Kavan.”

“What?”

“I always felt lonely,” Fyn said, “I am not anymore.”

Kavan tilted his head, his tail whipping side to side. “Why?”

Fyn didn’t answer. Instead, he curled both his arms around Kavan’s neck and pulled him close. Until there was no more space between the two of them. Until there was nothing but warmth that surrounded them. Something strong and sleek, Kavan’s tail, curled around Fyn’s legs and he smiled as he brushed his lips along Kavan’s.

An appreciative growl rumbled along Kavan’s chest as he curled his arms around Fyn’s waist, pulling him closer to him. Kavan tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss, almost as if he wanted to eat Fyn whole.

Inside Fyn’s head, he swore he could hear something that sounded like a serpent’s hiss.