It’s easy to forget the passage of time out here in Bonehelm. The fortress itself is unchanging - nothing but grey, cold stone and a clear sky as far as the eye can reach. The mountain peaks to the north and south are always white with snow. There are outposts on some of them, and signal fires ready to be lit. No signals have come, though, ever since Val was stationed here.

The Desert Sea is the worst of all: endless, eternal, forever a threat. Val tries not to even look at it these days. All that does is remind him how hopeless their task is. Nature and raw magic combined, the Sea is a force they won’t be able to contain much longer.

Considering all that, Raim’s find is all the more bizarre.

A tree in bloom. Cherry, or maybe plum - it’s not like Val cares to know the difference. Hidden in a little grassy nook off the mountain pass.

He’s so surprised to see it, that it takes him a while to notice the blanket, the food and the alcohol. Raim has prepared a picnic for them.

“What’s all this?” Val asks, trying to hide his delight.

Every day, he tells himself they are at war, and there’s no time for sweet gestures. But this… He’s willing to waste time on this.

“What does it look like to you?” Raim retorts, pushing Val to sit on the blanket.

“A trap.”

Raim laughs. Loudly, tilting his head back and all. He hasn’t laughed like that in weeks. Months, maybe. They really do need this.

The food is what they eat every day: potatoes, stale bread, cheese, dried meat. But somehow, it tastes better. They chat about all kinds of things while they eat, for the first time in a long while venturing into topics like what they want to do when the go back to Wyrn next or where they’ll travel once they are free to do so.

Once the food is gone, Raim sprawls out with his head in Val’s lap, fed and happy. Val plays with his hair, watches white petals slowly drift to the ground.

“Is it spring already?” he wonders.

“Only makes sense, right? But that would mean we’ve been here… Half a year the first time, so sixteen months altogether?”

“Seems like it. Time flows out here, where there’s nothing to measure it by.”

They surrounded Bonehelm with an invisible barrier during winter. Less complicated than finding the amount of firewood they’d need.

Raim hums. “It’s not a bad thing, I guess. We’ve got plenty of time to do whatever we want.”

“So long as you don’t get killed.”

“Hey. I’m not the suicidal one.”

It’s not that funny, but Val coughs, Raim snickers and soon, they’re both flat out guffawing, rolling around and clutching their bellies. The end up lying on their backs, heads close together, looking up at the flowers. Raim grabs Val’s hand.

It’s one of the best moments in his life, Val thinks. He’ll remember it forever.

Thunder rolls in the distance.

“We better hurry. Rain’s coming.”

*

It feels like a lake has been upended over Bonehelm. An endless one. The rain is so heavy that they are all drenched to the bone before the battle really begins.

It’s difficult to move in garments heavy with water.

The golems look like winged horses this time, except with sharp tusks and clawed feet. They’re ugly and surprisingly fast.

Gin dances around them just fine, but even this early on, Val can tell the others will have trouble. He summons two spider golems and releases his mist. Time to get serious.

*

Raim’s light swords are a magnificent display of control, Val knows. Raim usually moves them with the flick of a wrist or a finger, but in a tight spot, he really only needs to direct them with his gaze. Right now, he’s found high ground atop one of Val’s spiders and is frantically sweeping his gaze across the battlefield.

His swords are everywhere, protecting comrades from tusks and clawed kicks. Most of the mages on the battlefield would already be dead if not for Raim.

Val worries, though he barely has the concentration to spare with four spiders in the field, and some healing spells splashing into people’s wounds. Raim looks pale and is breathing heavily. Unusual for him. He’s normally so good at pacing himself.

*

The rain, Val thinks, lying on the ground under one of his spiders. He got one leg crushed by a sand golem and try as he might, even putting two healing spells to work doesn’t make it mend quickly enough.

He finds Raim with his mist, grabs his attention with another healing spell.

“What? Are you…?” Raim falls to his knees next to Val, doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands.

His eyes land on Val for a moment, then he gazes back into the battlefield to guide his swords.

“Just needed my focus for a moment,” Val murmurs. He can’t make his voice any louder. Not a good sign, probably. “Hold my hand.”

Raim slaps his hand on Val’s chest without looking, too busy fighting in two dozen places at once. There’s real panic in his face, something Val hasn’t witnessed in a long time.

Val puts one hand on top of Raim’s, finds it not much warmer at all. No matter. He closes his eyes, grounds himself and strings several chants together.

It’s inelegant, but it works. High above them, droplets of rain change direction to merge into frozen spears. When Val lets them rain down, he knows he probably wounds some of his comrades. Maybe kills some. But the sand golems are bigger targets, and once they have water touched with Val’s magic in them, he can counter-magic them into piles of sand. Which he does.

“Good thinking,” Raim says. “Can you do it again?”

“Maybe two more times.”

The hand on his chest clasps his own and squeezes. “It all right, I’ve got you.”

*

He manages three more times, then loses consciousness for a bit. When he comes to, there are still too many sand golems, and Raim is still holding his hand.

“You awake? Good. I gotta go somewhere with a better view.” Worried eyes search out Val’s own. “You gonna be all right?”

“Yeah.” He picks himself up to demonstrate. “Go.”

Raim kisses him before he does. Just a quick peck, a half-smile - and somehow, Val doesn’t feel reassured.

*

They are losing the battle. Only Gin is in high spirits, but even he looks like he’s on the verge of collapsing.

Val catches Raim’s eye and the determined glint he sees there scares him. He tries to call out, but his voice has gone a long time ago.

*

Falling is more difficult to accomplish than most mages imagine. Most mages don’t have the pure potential to do it, don’t have the capacity to channel that much magic at once.

Val watches, captivated, at the hundreds, maybe thousands of blades made of light hanging in the air, his mind blank. Next to him, clutching his hand like a lifeline, Raim releases the spell.

*

Val and Gin finish off the few remaining sand golems while Raim lays unconscious, all but submerged under Val’s healing spells. Val can feel that the spells aren’t working. He still hopes.

*

Raim wakes up. His eyes are different - a brighter, clearer blue. They glow.

Val only notices his own tears when Raim raises a hand to wipe them off his trembling chin.