Val lets himself be pulled through the crowd filling the main market square in Wyrn. Io’s capital city is awash with colour, as it always is during the summer festival. There are banners, flowers, streamers and ribbons everywhere. People are dressed colourfully, too. Val supposes he stands out - his trousers, boots, shirt and vest are all black, like the rest of his wardrobe. And his hair.

Raim looks the part, though. He’s got on a loose white shirt, plain trousers and boots, but he’s braided his blonde hair with ribbons and wrapped flowing red fabric around both wrists. The vain creature. It’s not their place to celebrate. They should be at Bonehelm, defending the country against whatever the hell the Desert Sea throws at them next.

It was Raim who found an excuse for them to return to the House just in time for the festival. It was halfway legitimate, too - Val did have a report to submit on the last attack on Bonehelm, and he didn’t trust anyone but himself or Raim to deliver it. And Raim apparently wanted to check something in the College’s vast library. Rare for him to concern himself with the theory of magic, but not unheard of.

With Val’s report delivered directly to Lutila’s hands and Raim’s research allegedly completed, they have until tomorrow morning to enjoy the celebrations. Val has no illusions as to where Raim is taking them, and his suspicions are confirmed when they enter a crowded tavern.

There’s nowhere to sit, so Raim gets them two full bottles of beer and pulls Val back into the streets. They wander, drink and laugh. Talk about inane things.

“You see Gin’s face when I asked for leave?” Raim asks, grinning wide. He must be a little tipsy already. “Thought he’d sprain something from keeping his temper in check.”

“What? You think he’d want to be here, too?”

“Not here here. He’d want to be at the House playing ball with Lutila, or whatever it is they do for fun these days.”

“They can’t do much when they don’t see each other.”

“Must suck, being away from your focus so long.” Raim gives Val’s cheek a fond nuzzle as he says this.

His breath smells strongly of alcohol. “On the other hand, they’ve been stuck together for - how many lives now? And long lives at that. I kinda see how they might need the break.”

“Think you’ll get tired of me like that?”

Val turns to look into Raim’s eyes, finds mostly calm curiosity there. But then, Raim’s good at keeping certain things to himself.

“We’re different,” Val answers.

“Yeah, obviously. It’s not an answer.”

Unable to make himself either lie or tell the truth, Val kisses Raim to shut him up.

*

Jary’s days at the College in Icemere are mostly uneventful. He’s been a student for almost two years now and is well on his way to earn a seal of passage and the title of mage. He’s made sure to make absolutely no friends.

He spends his last night in the east wing research lab going through his notes one final time. Nothing new jumps out at him. Of course it doesn’t. He’s read all the relevant books in the library, talked to every specialist on the subject of vampirism that would give him time of day. He never expected to just up and figure it out, but he feels like he’s made absolutely no progress.

Which is why he’s escaping tonight.

Jary carefully burns his notes in the fireplace, keeping only one notebook. He’s fairly sure the notes in it are incomprehensible to anyone but him.

He prepares a bunch of spells next. He pushes two tables next to each other and draws two magic circles on them for efficiency - one for the ice-based spells, and one for the fire-based ones. He chants over one circle while a spell is condensing in the other, stuffs an ice spell into a small wooden box as he waits for the fire circle to cool off. It takes most of the night, especially since he needs to wipe the tables clean and do a cleansing ritual to rid the room of the ozone-like scent of magic.

He ends up with enough bottled fire spells and boxed ice spells to last him through his journey. He hopes. If they don’t, he can still draw on his life force for spontaneous magic, but with anything more than parlour tricks, that’s risky without a focus.

The first rays of sunlight sneak into the room through the sloppily drawn curtains. Jary has to hurry. He’s already packed, only needs to hide the spells in his travelling coat and stuff the notebook into an inner pocket. He picks up his staff from where he’s rested it against a chair and unfolds a piece of paper with a teleportation circle on it. He lays it on the ground, steps on it with the toe of his boot, and strikes the centre of the circle with his staff.

He’s instantly transported to an identical circle carved into a rock several miles to the south, one that he prepared a few days prior. Jary starts walking.

*

It takes Val half a day to find his prey and corner him. He knew all along that he would get to this point, so he took his time. Now, his patience worn very thin, he slams a bathtub’s worth of water into Raim, knocking him into a wall.

They are in one of Bonehelm’s less frequented towers. The whole fortress and surrounding town is more empty than it should be, with it’s population decimated by the attacks from the Desert Sea. It’s a sad picture, a crumbling fortress perched on a mountain pass, nothing but more rock and snow to the east, and the vast threat of the Desert Sea to the west. Val hates being stationed here. Hates that his talent is being wasted, but he can’t do anything about it, because his focus is the little brother of the head of their House and can’t bring himself to go against Lutila’s requests. The wuss.

Said wuss picks himself up from where he slid down the wall. He groans and curses and shoots dirty looks at Val, who doesn’t feel the least bit sorry for him. He did use some of the water to cushion Raim’s collision. A little bit.

“I can’t believe you just used one of your stronger spells on me,” Raim mutters.

Val scoffs. “I didn’t. It’s an old spell that I’ve been meaning to rework.”

The water still hangs in the air between them, a bubbling threat.

“Whatever. Just because I can take it, doesn’t mean you get to beat me up, Val. I thought we’ve moved past this. You promised.”

That hits a nerve, because a promise is a promise, but Val is determined to hold onto his anger. “You went into the Sea. Again.”

“I did not. There’s a difference between walking into it and observing it from a safe distance.”

“Safe. Right.”

“Look.” Raim raises both arms in a placating gesture. “I know you hate going near the edge, so I didn’t ask you to go with me.”

“What is so fucking interesting about it? Admit it, you like it here. You like the fighting and you like the danger.”

Val knows his face is probably twisted into an ugly scowl, but he can’t help it. He wants out of here and back in Wyrn so much. He wants to finally leave the fighting behind, have a bit of peace and time for his research. He wants to take Raim somewhere the idiot won’t be able to find an opportunity to get himself killed every bloody day.

He’s fuming so hard he doesn’t even notice when Raim gets close enough to gather him into a hug. He freezes at first, but the familiarity of Raim’s warmth and smell makes him melt. He tucks his face into Raim’s neck and just breathes.

“You are so weird,” Raim tells him. “I’m pretty sure you’re just worried about me, but you show it by throwing me into a wall. Your past lives did a real number on you, huh?”

It feels so new sometimes, this thing between them. They’ve been each other’s foci for years now and they started sleeping together months ago. What’s new is the affection and feelings that have been slowly trickling into their interactions and shifting their relationship.

Val sighs, slumps further until Raim supports most of his weight. Then he murmurs the incantation for a healing spell. He uses some of the water, spreads a layer of it across Raim’s back and everywhere else he thinks might be hurt.

Raim hums in contentment. “That feels nice.”

Val wraps both arms around him and squeezes. “Let’s leave. Go to Wyrn, talk to your brother, find a way to just - not do this anymore. Just for a little while.”

He hates that it sounds like he’s begging. He hates the fact that he knows what Raim’s reply will be.

“You know we can’t do that, Val. We’re some of the most skilled mages in the House. Maybe in the whole College. If we don’t protect Io from the Desert Sea, no one will.”

“Bullshit. Someone else can do the job just fine.”

“This isn’t forever,” Raim promises, kissing Val’s temple. “And even if it were, I could do it as long as you’re with me.”

Val’s eyes begin to sting, so he shuts them. Burrows further into Raim’s shoulder, though really, it brings him little comfort. He’s just so tired of fighting, of always being on the brink of losing something or someone important. Of being afraid.

He wishes he were as fearless as Raim. Or that Raim would share his fears.

*

The College in Sinon, capital of Ajali, is not much different that the one in Icemere. Jary is accepted easily enough thanks to being born in Ajali as several of his previous incarnations. All he needs as proof is knowledge of the language and answers to a few simple questions. He supposes all colleges are somewhat desperate to get new members these days, in the face of the vampire threat.

It’s taken Jary almost half a year to travel from Icemere to Sinon. He had to perform odd jobs on the way to feed himself, and rarely was he able to afford travel by horse or boat. Except for that one stretch of the journey when he signed up as an oarsman. That turned out not to be worth the sunburn and blisters, so he got off as soon as he could and continued on foot. Time is on his side, after all.

He spends a year and a half at the college, reading, learning, researching. He can’t avoid the official promotion to mage this time, his skill is simply too obvious. This means he has to teach newly awakened mages. Easy enough to do, but frustrating when he has more important matters on his mind.

This time, he can’t avoid socialising, not completely. Grudgingly, he makes friends.

“Where are you going with all that research of yours, Jary?” asks Mirel one evening.

They’ve claimed one of the smaller common rooms to themselves and covered every available surface with examination papers to grade. They have a bet going on: the one who ends up with the largest ‘passed’ pile buys drinks for the other two. To Jary’s dismay, it looks like it’s going to be him.

“What, the students’ projects?” he asks.

“Of course not, idiot. We all know you huddle up at night in one of those unused laboratories in the western tower.” She grins at the face Jary makes. “Don’t worry, no one’s really interested enough to snoop. I’m just making conversation.”

Jeveth gives his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You don’t have to answer. Mirel and I have just been talking about what we want to do after this.” He gestures to all the papers.

“Yeah? And did you decide on anything?”

“You bet!” Mirel grins at him. “Turns out we both want to be mage hunters. Way more fun than teaching or researching, and definitely less risky than guarding the mountain passes against demons.”

Jeveth nods in confirmation. “We both feel it’s a way to do some good. Most students who escape the college are just confused by the memories of their old lives.”

“Or scared of being sent east, to guard those mountain passes,” says Jary.

Mirel just shrugs, but Jeveth heaves a sigh. “I know. A mage’s life is never really their own, is it? But running away fixes nothing. Most of those escapees don’t have a focus, so they end up falling. And then they truly have no place to return to.”

Falling. The polite way to describe losing control while using magic and crossing the line between humanity and vampirism. Jary knows more about it than he wants to, so he changes the subject by asking Jeveth for his opinion on a student’s paper.

He needs to hurry up, Jary thinks, and leave Sinon before Jeveth and Mirel become hunters. If he doesn’t, they’ll be sent after him. He hates himself for it, because it wasn’t supposed to happen, but he’s grown fond of the two idiots.

He doesn’t want to fight them.