A New Beginning

They stumbled on behind Lloyd and his ragtag band of world-savers, not even aware enough yet to think of why they felt so determined to keep up. The halls were both familiar and not as they streaked by; Part of them had known this place as home for too many years to count, but this part of them only felt like a caged animal ready to burst out.

When they stepped out into the sun, all they could do was stand there, face upturned, soaking in a warmth they had not felt for hundreds of years. Foggily in the back of their mind, they remembered this feeling, of a lifetime spent outdoors sunburnt and mudcapped. They would never fully grasp how long they had been locked away but for the first time in a long time, they felt like themself again.

In front of them Lloyd and his crew were rejoicing, hugging and shouting and crying in their revelry; All of them except one, who stood off to the side as if an invisible buffer was keeping them apart. Rhayn, eyes sliding back down from the heavens, found their view stuck on this red-haired individual, a dull feeling of recognition rolling around in the back of their mind. Try as they might though, they could summon no information about him, and could not explain the tightness that gripped their chest when he caught their gaze. He looked at them, face going from what must have been relief to something much less understandable before abruptly turning back away.

As quickly as they had come, Lloyd and his companions began to trickle off, each with a clear determination that Rhayn could not bring themself to understand. But that redhead, he stayed behind. It was not for a lack of wanting, that much was clear, but surely it was something of import. He stood there, now alone and watching the road as his companions disappeared into the horizon. Without bothering with a reason, they approached.

“Excuse me?” They said in a soft voice, easily catching the man’s attention. 

- - - - -

“Excuse me?” They said in a soft voice, clearly catching the man’s attention, “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here named Kratos, would that be you?”

So this was the Chosen that had taken so many more years to locate. They looked dirty and malnourished and certainly not the type of person who could become what was wanted out of them. But orders were orders, it wasn’t his job to ask questions. All he had to do was push this late-bloomer along on the path to angelhood.

“Yes, I am.” He replied, standing up straight, “You must be Rhayn, I am honored to be able to assist the Chosen on their quest.” Honored was about as far from how he felt as you could get. He felt more akin to a schoolchild finally getting ready to turn in a late assignment.

The Chosen seemed to deflate at his words, “You… You’re aware of what I am… surely you were told by whoever employed you…” They seemed to curl in on themself as they talked. How bothersome. It seemed that he still had a great deal of convincing to do.

“I think that those who would deny the world it’s Chosen over their lineage are criminally selfish.” Maybe not completely a lie this time, though he would not find in himself a will to advocate this point to anyone except the pitiful form in front of him.

This seemed to do the trick though, as Rhayn visibly relaxed. “Unfortunately, I know little of what I am supposed to do, I’ll be counting on you to lead me through. I… Wasn’t exactly brought up like a Chosen.”

“Do not fret, I can take you through step by step.” 

- - - - -

The first piece of Rhayn’s self to go was their appetite. It was an easy thing to notice as previously they were enthusiastic to prepare the meals they had road-side. It wasn’t long until they simply gave up on cooking all together. Kratos was thankful for the ease with which they accepted this change, not wanting to deal with the complications that emotions always brought. In fact, despite the late start, this seemed like it would be a relatively painless journey as the Chosen seemed to enjoy nothing more than doing what they were told. The first seal had been easy and had seemed to dispel a good deal of the doubt that they felt about embarking on this journey. 

Next was their loss of sleep. It was another easy transition, as Rhayn seemed to be plenty entertained by the night sky above them. Kratos only really felt a change after the third seal and Rhayn’s loss of touch. Perhaps this was when the finality of this journey had sunk in with them, or perhaps it was just a product of the time that they had now spent together, but Rhayn became a lot more inclined towards conversation. At night as the coals of the campfire burned out, they would ask Kratos about his life, about the places he had been, about the people he had known. Walking the road in the day, they would ask about the Chosen and about magic, about what would happen when they successfully completed their journey. Some of these things he had easy answers to, like he was reading them off a chalkboard to the class, and these were the questions he answered without resistance. The others he would deflect, even as Rhayn became more insistent, more hungry for stories of what they could have had. 

It was here that he found himself becoming endeared to the strange ways Rhayn functioned. They absorbed knowledge like a sponge, their hunger in this aspect seemingly insatiable. They were amazing with their hands, able to mend any tear or hole in their clothes without so much as a thought, and loved any sort of craft they could work while they walked. They were a natural at spearplay and came quickly to enjoy brief sparring sessions with their guide which would always put them in an excitable mood. They were eager to tail dangerous game or scamper up a tree to snatch a fruit, but the second a trip into a town was necessary they would seize up like someone had poured liquid ice into their veins. When around other people, they would cling to Kratos’s arm like it was their last lifeline in the whole world. He found himself not entirely hating that. Maybe it just felt nice to mean something to someone. It was a thought he dismissed quickly and firmly any time it floated up to the surface of his mind. He had no time for feelings like that.

The fourth seal was a hard for the both of them. Used to Rhayn’s chatter filling the air, the stillness around the campfire at night was unbearable. Kratos hadn’t realised how much he had come to enjoy their late night conversations until they were gone. Rhayn seemed nearly as saddened by this loss, trying their best to supplement with writing but quickly giving up on being able to hold any meaningful conversation with a quill and paper. They became cold and withdrawn, face set in an unreadable expression during their day travel, and curling into their bedroll as soon as they stopped for the night. 

It wasn’t even a week until Kratos found himself filling the silence for them. He recalled questions that they had asked on earlier legs of their journey, talked about what he could of his life, of the sights he’d seen, and the information he had come to know. He talked about all the things he could think of to talk about and when he ran out of things to say he started making up his own stories to tell. At first it seemed to help, the shine returned to Rhayn’s eyes as they hungrily ate it all up, but quickly it wasn’t enough. They grew frustrated at not being able to ask their own questions, to respond in any meaningful way to the words Kratos had for them.

By the time the pair reached the Tower of Salvation, conversation had once again dried up. Kratos, where he expected to feel relief, felt a deep sensation of unease seeing Rhayn approach the Tower’s hulking silhouette. He pushed it down well, just like every other thought and emotion that didn’t serve him, but here more than ever, he could feel it settle in the bottom of his stomach. Both of them knew what awaited the Chosen at the top, and to Rhayn’s credit, they seemed unphased by the nearing end of their mortal life. Kratos could almost laugh at the swap they had seemed to do with their emotions, it tasted bitter on his tongue.

For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, Rhayn’s lifeless body discarded like a poorly-fitting jacket haunted him for years afterwards. Like he had initially thought, Rhayn was not a proper match, and onwards the cycle marched. Sometimes he would accidentally find himself in the same part of Welgaia as the husk he had known as Rhayn and like he had always done, he forced himself not to think anything of it. Time left this behind as it always does. He found another person to love, and to lose, and to leave behind.

Yet it seemed that perhaps he didn’t leave Rhayn as far behind as he had thought.

- - - - -

“Sorry if I’m interrupting you just looked… Lost.” They say. It was the same voice, same face, hair tinted blue but the same familiar side part. It was like being visited by a ghost, a very real, very alive ghost. 

Kratos shakes his head lightly, in a dismissal and to clear his head momentarily, “My path is clear. I have a lot of time to make up for, I’m sure you feel the same.” He meets their eyes for the first time since they entered the Tower of Salvation all those years ago and feels a sensation in his chest not entirely unfamiliar.

“Well surely it will be easier if you don’t do it alone.”