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Chapter Text

The existence of the General Mahamatra brought questions from throughout all of Sumeru. From apprehensive students who tensed at the mere sight of him, to seasoned scholars who witnessed his rise to greatness; for all that he did to bring about justice and the intensity of which he did, how was he still alive? Curious travellers often bore recounts of his relentless treks across the desert, citing no sign of fatigue or struggle under the sun’s unforgiving blaze. 

One could spend their days guessing and wondering for all they wanted but none would expect the actual truth: he couldn’t die. Or rather, saying that he couldn’t stay dead would be more accurate, but to Cyno, the difference hardly mattered. Besides, the former sounded cooler. 

Cyno had years to reconcile with this reality, eventually finding it neither a blessing nor a curse from the spirit residing inside him but instead, a tool to invoke his wrath on the dishonest. His pact with the divine spirit was a boon in many ways and if it demanded him to serve in the name of justice forever, then so be it. 

For many, receiving a vision served as a pivotal point in their life. That too was the case for Cyno, but his true turning point happened early in his career as a young matra. 

One of his first missions partnered with Taj Radkani involved a mob of Eremites guarding some ruins near Khaj-Nisut serving as a research facility funded by black market sales of high profile participant data. Despite Taj’s warnings to let him handle the negotiations and instead to call for backup, he rushed forward, eager to prove himself worthy of his position. Still, a young matra was a reckless and hubristic one; all it took was a well-aimed stab through the back. The culprit disappeared before he even hit the ground. 

He came to a few hours later, groggy and stiff-necked like he had fallen asleep in the worst position. A rocking motion beneath him jostled the sheet smothering his face. 

Strange, why was there a sheet? 

Where was he?

Groaning past parched lips and a heavy tongue, he shuffled onto his elbows and let the sheet fall onto his lap. 

Just up ahead, he spotted Taj walking at a funerary pace with his back turned, guiding the sumpter beast carrying Cyno up a sandy hill. The colossal tree that landmarked Sumeru City towered over them as the forest hummed its tranquil piece, solemn stillness surrounding them like a lake's reflection before a storm.

When Cyno called out to Taj, he watched him nearly trip over his own feet, drawing huffs of complaint from the sumpter beast. 

Posture stiff and with an even tenser grip on his polearm, Taj slowly turned toward him. "Cyno?" he called. 

Cyno frowned. Never had he seen such hesitation from him before. "The researchers. Did we arrest them?" he asked, thinking it better to ask something easy first than to ask about what had caused such a reaction. He dismounted the sumpter beast to stand beside him. 

Taj clasped his hands around Cyno's shoulders as wide, perplexed eyes searched his entire body. 

Cyno followed his gaze and barely stifled a gasp when he realised. Running a hand down his chest and another down his back, all he felt was smooth skin. 

His fingers lingered on a spot below his ribs, phantom pain sparking over an injury that appeared to no longer exist. "I definitely got stabbed," he said, half to himself, half as a question to Taj.

"I saw it with my own eyes," Taj confirmed. He dragged a weary hand down his face. "You died out there, Cyno. I called for backup right after you got injured and I was going to take you to Caravan Ribat but you stopped breathing soon after we left the ruins." 

If Cyno wasn't already so familiar with Taj, he would have pressed for a more reasonable answer. Even if he had been revived, no amount of logic could have explained how his body had apparently knitted itself back together. 

They traversed the rest of the way back to the Akademiya in silence and parted at the doors with nothing more than a promise to see each other on the next mission. 

The next time it happened wasn't until a few years later. The newly appointed General Mahamatra had been grasping onto the slippery hands of a runaway scholar, digging his elbows into the sand to stop himself from inching closer to the cliff's edge. Unfortunately, the pride of Sumeru's scholars often far outweighed the appeal of a fair trial, leading them to unnecessarily perilous situations. 

In the unforgiving heat of the desert, there was only so much holding on one could do. But Cyno wasn't the General Mahamatra because he allowed scholars to meet their end without trial. 

Like any good Akademiya graduate, he had a hypothesis waiting to be tested. So, he ignored the small, Tighnari-like voice scolding him for being reckless and allowed himself to fall forward. 

The fall itself was more graceful in his head than in reality, having unaccounted for the incessant screaming from the scholar he was pulling down. 

Calm down, he wanted to say. He wanted to reassure the scholar that it would be okay. There just wasn't time. 

Cyno didn't even remember hitting the ground. The only evidence of his fall was the bloodied stains on the back of his uniform and the jagged rocks beneath. The headpiece itself was surprisingly intact. Perhaps he should wear it more often. 

Barely there, uneven footprints leading further down the gorge told him that the scholar had scurried off a while ago. 

Cyno quietly cycled through the year without incident, speaking to no one about his fall. The rest of the matra were none the wiser about his condition—even Taj's lingering concern dissipated under the torrent of paperwork flooding their office.

Graduation presented a new batch of overzealous scholars made arrogant by their success, eager to join the ranks of their seniors by any means possible. Most were laughable cases of plagiarism and collusion, but every once in a while, the Akademiya was confronted with the dangers that came with fabricated data. 

Whispers followed Cyno throughout the House of Daena, his steady footsteps falling in tandem with the sound of quills being dropped. Students unaware of their own noise levels pierced the hushed stillness with their chatter, craning heads swivelling to glance between him and the lone figure surrounded by empty chairs, a single book in hand. While their presence alone often brought speculation, Cyno felt the excitement buzz even more intensely as Alhaitham lowered his book.

Cyno pushed down his surprise at the idea of Alhaitham initiating any form of contact during work that wasn't a pre-organised meeting. "You wanted to see me?" 

"The matra have been casting a lot of loose nets these days," he drawled, his tone sharp and frank. "My desk is piled with funding applications for repeat offenders of forgery."

To the untrained eye, he appeared bored, as if delivering nothing more than news about the weather. Cyno however, found his tense posture looking so out of place for a man determined to live his life as comfortably as possible. He ignored the insult to his matra subordinates and cast a quick glance around the library. Met with curious stares and a lack of pages being turned, Cyno motioned for Alhaitham to follow and headed over to the nearest study room. 

Two students sitting far too closely to be studying effectively sprung apart when he pulled the door open. They scrambled to pack away their belongings and straightened their clothes with a flurry of apologies as he stood by the doorway with a glare that was usually saved for the most heinous of criminals.

"Intimidation would be far less effective if they knew you've done much worse with Tighnari," Alhaitham quipped. In a show of nonchalance, he tossed a folder onto the table but made no move to sit. 

Cyno pushed aside the temptation of retorting.  "What do you need me for?" he asked instead, orienting himself to the contents of the folder. 

At first glance, it appeared like a stack of funding applications and proposals for a past Vahumana project in the desert. Did Alhaitham bring the wrong documents? Then, as he leafed through the papers again, he spotted familiar handwriting scrawled on some maps and diagrams of the area around Sobek Oasis.

“This is the new project that Kaveh’s leading,” he remarked. 

Alhaitham nodded. “Vahumana researchers just got a bonus for their recent evaluation of some ruins that Ksharewar plans to turn into a school. I’m not surprised you’re familiar with it, Kaveh’s excitement about starting has left the house a mess.” 

Cyno privately disagreed. From multiple occasions of personal experience, their house was often a mess regardless of Kaveh’s upcoming projects, courtesy of half of Sumeru’s books being found in there. “What does Vahumana have to do with this?” he asked instead.

“The data they presented was found to be fabricated,” Alhaitham gruffly answered. “The sages only confirmed this morning that there’s no telling if or when the structures will collapse when Kaveh’s team begins their measurements.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this instead of Kaveh?” 

“He left yesterday.” 

Cyno barely caught the waver of desperation flickering across Alhaitham’s face when he all but flung himself out of the room. “Call the other matra to ready themselves and meet me at the site.” 

Upon arrival, Cyno wondered if half of the Ksharewar Darshan were present at the ruins. Flocks of people gathered at the foot of a towering cliffside that harboured the entrance of a former settlement dating back to the height of King Deshret’s reign.

Without the need to say even a word, notebooks slammed shut at the sight of him as students clambered to greet him. A few of the braver ones asked him about why he was there while others, postures shrunken and defeated, began packing away their things. 

Cyno wished he was only there for a social visit, having recently constructed a new repertoire of jokes to hopefully build their confidence around him. However today, they had every reason to be nervous at the sight of him and he channeled this energy into his request. “I need to speak with Kaveh. Tell me where he is,” he commanded. 

Soon enough, Kaveh appeared from the ruins, shaking dust out of his hair while grumbling like a dog scolded for jumping in puddles. “If you’re here because of another proposal rejection, tell them that I personally made sure that Alhaitham filed it in the right place this time,” he said.

Trust Kaveh to start complaining about Alhaitham without even saying hello. Still, they didn’t have time for pleasantries.

“Kaveh, how many people are in the ruins?” he asked.

“Huh?” He gave him a bewildered look. “Like, twenty maybe? It’s a pretty big team. Hey, what’s going on?” 

Cyno ignored him. “Tell everyone to get out. It isn’t safe.” 

Kaveh's confused splutters echoed behind him as he ventured inside. 

The cave interior housed a colossal skeleton of a building. Yawning gaps between walls revealed scholars feeling their way around the ancient structure as they voiced their ideas to each other. 

Cyno hated being the one to interrupt such moments of inspiration. "Everyone," he called, "on my authority as the General Mahamatra, this project is cancelled until further notice." 

Indignant squawks bounced around like a flock of angry dusk birds having their home disturbed by clumsy adventurers. 

"Cancelled?" someone cried out. "Senior Kaveh, are you hearing this? We waited years to get this project off the ground."

"I know," Kaveh sighed as he joined Cyno to address his team. "While I haven't been told anything yet, I'm sure Cyno has a good reason." 

Cyno made a mental note to buy him a drink the next time they met up. With Kaveh’s support, the scholars’ resistance vanished, complying easily despite their grumbles and bemoans of their precious time lost. 

Just as Cyno was about to lead them back outside, a shriek stopped him in his tracks. 

Inside the ruins, a few stragglers huddled together behind an enormous cavern that had opened up in place of what had once been the ground floor. The tiny glint of a Ksharewar badge taunted them from below. 

“Calm down. I’ll find a way to get you across,” Cyno assured them. Glancing around at his surroundings, he wished he had looked before he spoke. All around them was rubble and dust; not a single wooden plank or rope could be found. 

Years of practice maintained his collected demeanour as he tried to suppress the rising panic. 

“Cracks are growing rapidly in the building’s foundations. The floor could collapse further at any minute,” Kaveh announced. When did he even get there? Mehrak floated beside him, projecting a diagram of the building. “Cyno, take my claymore and lay it over the smallest portion of the gap,” he directed,  “we’ll use your polearm to stabilise them.” 

Using weapons as a bridge was the last thing Cyno would have come up with. He supposed that was one of the merits of having a friend who built things for fun. Never again would he judge Kaveh for making models out of random household objects. 

"It won't break?" he confirmed. 

"I use my claymore to cut through Cor Lapis!" he replied with a scoff. "As long as they're quick with the crossing, it'll be fine." 

Cyno himself tested the claymore bridge despite Kaveh's protests. He felt a slight dip in the middle but otherwise, nothing happened. 

"Now we have to get four people back across," he complained. "You're not even wearing proper shoes!" 

"It worked," said Cyno. A retort to the shoe comment formed on the tip of his tongue when a cracking noise sounded from above. Searching for the source, he shielded his eyes from the trickle of dust and sand falling from the ceiling.

One scholar clung onto the tresses of his headpiece, muttering pleas for him to help them. None of the others made any move towards the bridge. 

Cyno almost wished Tighnari was there to scold them for their lack of bravery. It was a shame that enrolment applications didn’t include a personality test—all that intelligence was wasted on hubris and stubbornness in the face of danger. 

The trickle of sand from the ceiling had grown into a steady stream. 

Closing his eyes in resignation, he called upon his Pactsworn Pathclearer state, both as an intimidation tactic and in case he needed to do any heavy lifting. He circled the scholars and herded them towards the gap. “If you want to live, I advise that you hurry up,” he said coldly. 

The one who had clung onto his uniform faltered before gulping. “Yes sir, of course, General, sir.” 

Like the first rays of sunlight amidst the end of a storm, Kaveh received them on the other side with steady hands and a reassuring smile. 

By the time the third and final scholar made it across, the stream of sand had steadily become a torrent. 

Cyno pulled his hood down to further shield his eyes. By his feet, the already limited coverage the claymore provided had diminished even further. Rocks crumbled beneath it, moulding a dent in the surface. Despite Kaveh's earlier reassurances, he doubted that he would have a claymore by the end of this if he used it to cross again. It was likely that he didn't have the money to get a new weapon, either.

Disregarding the claymore altogether, Cyno leaped across the gap, kicking off the edge of the precipice just as it collapsed beneath him. He bowled into Kaveh, sending both of them skidding across the floor.

"Are you okay?" Kaveh asked. How typical of him to ask after Cyno's well-being when he himself had just become a human cushion. 

Cyno rolled off him, readjusting his headpiece just in time to catch a large chunk of ceiling falling from the building. 

He threw himself back onto Kaveh and called upon his Pactsworn Pathclearer state once more. 

Even in his enhanced state, it barely reduced the impact of the rock punching the air out of him. His arms strained under its weight as he held himself steady. 

"Kaveh, move," he gritted out. 

Kaveh's horrified expression beneath him quickly rose up the ranks for things he never wanted to see again; he squeezed his eyes shut so he didn't have to watch the ultimate devastation of what was to come. Of all the jokes he had learned and created, not a single one could alleviate the severity of their situation.

"Get out of here," Cyno stressed.

"What the hell are you even–"

The beginnings of Kaveh's indignant protest were cut off by another voice. "You'll be no use to anyone if both of you are dead."

Cyno opened his eyes to see Alhaitham dragging Kaveh out from under him. 

"What are you doing?" Kaveh demanded, wrenching himself out of his grasp. He knelt beside Cyno and began trying to heave the slab of rock off his back. "Help me get him out from under there."

Cyno locked eyes with Alhaitham. "You need to leave," he said. 

Alhaitham hesitated as he stared at something behind Cyno. "What about you?" he asked. The waver in his voice sounded oddly strained. "Even you won't be able to hold that for long."

And he didn't intend to. 

"I'll see you later," he assured him. Whether or not later included him still having a heartbeat, that was a problem for the future. 

It was only upon seeing their retreating backs nearing the entrance did he let go. His arms buckled awkwardly beneath his chest as he face-planted the sand.

The ceiling slab had him pinned with no way to move except to lift his head and spit out a mouthful of sand. Wiggling his toes did nothing as he had no sensation anywhere past his hips. He lowered his cheek against the sand and let out a resigned sigh. 

Trapped and unable to do anything about it, he impatiently willed the building to collapse faster. 

A low rumbling noise coming from someplace behind him answered his appeal in the form of a forceful barrage of rocks battering all that lay beneath them. Cyno barely noticed when a large chunk of stone slammed into his head.

When the final billows of dust clouds settled, silence smothered the site, leaving no room for signs of movement or a lingering breath. 

Cyno's consciousness arose to the sounds of bickering before the rest of his body did. Unable to do so much as twitch a finger, he was forced to listen to the argument happening right above him. Leave it to Alhaitham and Kaveh to be so noisy that they wake up the dead. 

“I always wondered about the lack of scars on his body," Kaveh was saying.

“You look at his body?” came Alhaitham's disdainful reply. 

“Who are you to judge? Don’t act like I haven’t seen you checking him out!”

“Hm.” 

“You’re not even denying it!” 

Alhaitham made another noncommittal noise. 

A lull in their conversation gave Cyno the opportunity to try and force his body to cooperate. Though his eyelids didn't feel heavy, they refused to do so much as flutter open a little, leaving him to stare at the red light filtering through. 

At some point, Kaveh had spoken again but Cyno had been too preoccupied trying to lift his pinky finger (with some success!) to follow, until the mention of his name. 

"Cyno definitely hasn't mentioned anything like this to me," he said. “Has he told anyone ?

Alhaitham’s long-suffering sigh would have been funny if not for the subject matter. "Aside from the obvious that this anomaly is a personal issue, I doubt the Akademiya would sit and let him go about his day when there are so many unanswered questions about how this all works and what the limits are."

Kaveh gasped. "You think they'd study him?" he asked incredulously. 

"I know they would," replied Alhaitham. Then with a louder voice, he said, "I also know that for someone who just died, he’s not very good at playing dead."

With tremendous effort, Cyno peeked open an eye to glare at him. "For someone so smart, you should know better than to speak ill of the dead," he wanted to say. Instead, what came out was a slurry of barely intelligible words.

Kaveh, who was in the midst of pondering something deeply enough to draw lines on his forehead, bounded over at the sound of his voice. Joy spread across his face like a blossoming flower. “You’re awake!” he exclaimed. “How are you feeling?” 

Blinking through a slog of lethargy, Cyno grunted in response. “How long?” he asked. 

“What, how long have you been dead?” Alhaitham reiterated. The nonchalance in his tone did nothing to hide the sharp gaze scrutinising every inch of his body.

"There are more sensitive ways to go about this, you know," Kaveh huffed. There was a soft dip of whatever it was that Cyno laid upon as he kneeled beside him to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Is that better? I’ll get you some water.” 

Cyno’s gaze followed him out of the room. From the soft glow filtering through stained glass windows to the countless books and fruit bowls strewn all over the place, he recognised that he had been lying on one of the divans in Alhaitham and Kaveh's living room. He caught Alhaitham staring at him from his seat with a closed book discarded beside him, not even bothering to pretend to read like usual. 

“What is it?” prompted Cyno.

“I suppose you’ll want to know what happened,” he said. 

Images depicting different versions of his own broken body crushed beneath the ruins intruded his mind. Despite this gruesome imagination, he still signalled for Alhaitham to begin with a minute nod.

“The ruins inside that cave are completely flattened; like Rex Lapis himself had gone and razed the entire structure. Kaveh and I went back for you after sending home the rest of the scholars. I tried to send him home too but he’s more equipped to cut through stone and I knew that there was no way you would have—” Alhaitham cleared his throat and lowered his head, his hair doing little to hide the haunted look on his face. “We found you under the rubble with your legs and lower back crushed,” he continued stiffly. “Between that and your head also being cracked open, we didn’t even know where to begin with transporting you back to Sumeru City in that state.” 

Cyno absentmindedly touched the back of his head, grimacing at the crusty knots that no doubt horribly stained his hair. 

Kaveh returned with a jug and a glass of water. “We thought about washing it for you, but by the time we made it back to Sumeru City, your injuries were already on the mend,” he said, supporting Cyno’s body while shifting him into a sitting position. “Trust me when I say that waking up in the bath with no idea how you got there is the worst.” 

Despite being more alert now and not feeling like he needed any assistance, he wordlessly allowed Kaveh to fuss over a pile of blankets now pulled up to his neck. His friends deserved some leeway after having been traumatised like that. “Sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, “I really would have been fine in the end.”

Alhaitham scoffed. “How would you have been able to crawl out from under all that? You would have woken up with your face in the sand and suffocated all over again.” 

Damn him for always being right. 

“I would have figured it out,” Cyno said anyway, more out of distaste for letting him have the last word. 

Finally satisfied with the blanket arrangement, Kaveh perched himself on the armrest of the divan. “I don’t know what’s going on or why you’re able to recover like nothing happened, but never do that again," he exclaimed. 

"Trust me when I say I don't make a habit of dying," Cyno replied dryly. 

Alhaitham nudged Kaveh with his hip to squeeze in next to him. "Who else knows?" he asked. 

Kaveh elbowed him back. "You stole my question," he grumbled, “and now my seat. Why are you here?” 

Cyno spent a moment debating with himself on how to reply as he watched his friends try to settle on the small portion of space. There were two other unoccupied divans in the living room—was it really necessary for them to share an armrest? His silence went unnoticed as they engaged in a wordless argument, filled with glares and poorly concealed shoving. 

"If you two have more pressing matters to deal with, I am more than happy to leave," he drawled, making a show of throwing off Kaveh's meticulously folded blanket bundle. 

"Hey, you can't just leave us!" Kaveh protested, pushing him back down onto the divan.

"Who's us ?" Alhaitham asked, raising a disdainful eyebrow. He hopped off the armrest and headed for the front door. "Good to see that you're well, Cyno," he added with a slight nod, "I'll see you whenever I see you." 

"You're not seriously going back to work," Kaveh exclaimed. "Your friend just died and came back to life!"

"My friend just died and came back to life," he parroted. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Someone needs to document the downfall of those responsible." 

He had a point. With the case still open and the scholars still at large, what was Cyno doing lounging about? "I'm coming with you," he said. 

Alhaitham's gaze flickered between him and Kaveh. “No, you’re not,” he huffed with mild amusement, and left.

"Hey wait—" Kaveh leaped off the divan to go after him, only to deflate as the door closed with a firm click. "My key," he groaned. 

Years of friendship meant that Cyno was going to be subjected to a rant about Alhaitham if he didn't do something. 

"You wanted to ask earlier if I had told anyone about my situation," he began. "The answer is no. It was purely by circumstance that you happened to be there." 

Kaveh narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you the one who tells me that I can come to you if I need any help?" 

Cyno blinked. This was completely different, no? "Yes," he replied, "but I'd rather save you from the grieving process, especially given that I would have been fine eventually."

"If Alhaitham and I weren't there to pull you out from under the rubble, you would have woken up in a morgue," Kaveh stressed, the divan shaking under the force with which his leg bounced. He looked to be about two seconds away from tearing his hair out. "You'd be every mortician's worst nightmare," he added.

"I doubt you would have found one anyway."

"Why do you think that?" 

"It's a dying practice."

Kaveh snorted and shook his head. "You're awful," he said without malice. "I never thought there'd be a day where I'm relieved to hear your jokes."

Cyno grinned. 

After allowing Kaveh to nag him into washing the blood and sand out of his hair, he set off from Treasures Street with every intention of returning to work. It wasn't like Alhaitham had any right or authority to prevent him from doing his job, anyway. 

Then, as he neared the entrance to the Akademiya, a call of his name halted him in his tracks. Right or authority be damned, Alhaitham always found other methods to get what he wanted. 

Cyrus, his greying hair falling loosely out of his ponytail, hurried over with a pace that was far too swift for his complaints about old age. "Don't tell me you're thinking about heading back to work," he said in lieu of a proper greeting. 

Cyno tensed. He didn't think Alhaitham was one to share about others' business. "I'm afraid I'm going to need more context to go with your statement," he responded carefully. 

Cyrus let out an irritated huff and grabbed him by the arm to tug him in the direction of the outer suburbs. With the way he marched onwards with Cyno in tow, it was a wonder if he even noticed the bemused onlookers as they watched one of the few people in all of Teyvat who would get away with dragging the General Mahamatra like a misbehaving child. 

They arrived at the doorstep of Cyrus' home, where Cyno was ushered inside with a none-too-gentle push. 

Cyrus patrolled the perimeter of the house, closing all doors and windows and drawing the blinds before settling down on a divan with a goblet of wine in each hand. 

Cyno took the offered goblet but made no move to drink from it. "I shouldn't," he said. 

"Why not? It's a brew-tiful day for it."

It pained him not to react to the joke. He'd have to remember it for later, the next time he went out for drinks with his friends. Kaveh at least should appreciate it. "I really shouldn't be drinking before work," he insisted instead. 

"Did your intelligence die and neglect to regenerate with the rest of you?" 

"So Alhaitham did tell you," he replied with displeasure. 

"It doesn't take much to guess what happened when that poor boy approached me with the same haunted look that I saw in myself all those years ago."

Cyno flinched. "You mean this happened to me when I was younger?" 

Cyrus dragged a weary hand over his face. "Only once. It was already too late when I found out. Watched your body pull itself together like one of those Fontaine films in reverse. The fact that it happened at all–" he scowled "–once was already one time too many."

Cyno hesitated, his hand twitching with the temptation to offer comfort, but he needed answers. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Would you have believed me?" 

He tried to imagine such a conversation. How would Cyrus have gone about it? How would Cyno have reacted? His mind drew up blank after blank, each consideration bringing him no closer to having an answer than before. “I suppose not,” he replied eventually. 

“Then you know how tough it is to even begin thinking about how to approach such a thing. As terrible as it is that you had to traumatise your friends, I’m glad that you’re not alone with this information.” 

“Taj knew,” Cyno said quietly. “He promised to make sure things ended quickly if I was ever injured badly enough.” 

Cyrus shot him a look so full of disapproval that Cyno immediately wished he hadn't mentioned anything. "How were you going to go about that?" he asked neutrally. 

Cyno glanced away, opting instead to stare at his goblet and the ripples in his wine as he fidgeted. "Getting stabbed in the back of the head," he mumbled. 

Not that it mattered, as Taj was buried somewhere beneath the rubble of the Court of Desolation. 

Cyrus made a pensive noise, humming to himself as he contemplated…something. Before Cyno had the chance to ask, Cyrus plucked the goblet out of his hands and downed the wine in one go. "Wait here," he said decisively and disappeared into his bedroom.

After about twenty minutes of Cyno sitting alone on the divan, perplexed at the sounds of cabinet doors being slammed and frustrated muttering, Cyrus finally returned. He emerged with a file aged with yellowed pages and frayed binding clutched triumphantly in his hands.

He launched into explanation with the energy of a recent graduate presenting their first proposal. "Amurta researchers from 20 years ago tried creating a poison that would instantly kill Eleazar patients before they reached the final stages. Of course, such a project was scrapped before it began but the notes have been stored in this house for years, just in case." Cyrus softened a little and paused to pat Cyno on the top of his headpiece. "I know your job comes with many risks, but this could be a more peaceful option."

Peaceful. It certainly wasn't a word Cyno would have used to describe any part of his job, let alone the deadliness of it. Still, what if the ruins hadn't killed him instantly? Would he have laid there alone beneath the rubble, waiting for someone to find him? As far as he knew, all spontaneous recoveries only happened after fatal injuries; it would certainly make his job easier if he could skip out on hospital stays. 

"I'll consider it," said Cyno, even as the warm spark in his heart screamed for him to say yes. 

Cyrus nodded. "You'd have to be careful when getting the ingredients," he added sagely, "I'd recommend finding someone who knows their poisons and is unaffiliated with the Akademiya." 

Flipping through the document, the creation method appeared logical and simple enough to follow. The real issue was where he was going to acquire ingredients for a project his very role was sworn to punish. 

"Thank you," said Cyno. "I know just the person." 

Chapter Text

The walk to Gandharva Ville gave Cyno time to plan out what he was going to say. He pondered about what he would do when he broke the news to Tighnari. What if he reacted poorly, or if it was Collei instead who greeted him first? Did he even want Collei to know? 

Yet upon reaching the leafy barrier at the front of Tighnari’s home, he found himself at a loss for words. The whole way there from Sumeru City, he debated with himself about whether now was the best time to tell him. Having kept the secret to himself for so long, what difference did it make if he waited another day or year? Cyrus had presented him with a simpler way to soften the blow: deliver the surprise and save himself a scolding by immediately presenting a solution. Surely that was the best course of action. 

But what if after all this, Tighnari no longer trusted him to be open with other secrets? He never had much to hide and certainly not from him, but how does one even reveal something as far-fetched as this? That he had to die in the first place to even find that out? 

"Are you just going to stand there like a lost desert fox or are you going to go inside?" Tighnari's exasperated voice sounded behind him. "It's going to rain soon and I just did the washing." 

I'll just wear your clothes , Cyno wanted to quip back. To pretend that he dropped by only to hang out; if he did that, he would be insulting Tighnari's intelligence and observation skills.  

Besides, it wasn't like Tighnari would let things easily slide if he sensed that something was wrong—especially not with the way his ears flattened along with the concern and suspicion etched across his face. “When you're ready,” he said. 

"Nari, there’s something I need to tell you.” His mouth drier than the centre of a sandstorm, Cyno fidgeted with his headpiece before taking it off and hugging it close to his chest. Best to get it over with. “I can’t die,” he blurted out. “I mean, I can, but I always come back."

Cyrus was right, how could anyone approach such a conversation the right way?

Tighnari gave no indication of how he was doing with his delivery, his expression unchanging as he waited for him to continue. 

Cyno plucked the Amurta research paper from underneath his headpiece and waved it in the air. Crinkled and damp from the forest’s humidity and his very own nerves, he hoped that it remained legible. “I need your help to make this poison because my job has a tendency to place me in some painful situations I’d rather not live through longer than necessary.”

When he was met with another bout of silence, he decided that he definitely wasn’t as prepared as he thought. He set aside the headpiece and document on a nearby desk and clasped his hands around Tighnari’s. “I understand that this is a lot to take in. There’s no one in the Akademiya as capable as you are to do this right.”

More silence. 

“Tighnari?” 

“This is more long-winded than your usual jokes,” he said quietly. Although he didn’t move, the usual warmth in his gaze was far away. 

“I wasn’t joking.” Cyno tightened his hold. “Never about this.” 

Well, he would, but not in this context. 

Tighnari gently removed his hands from Cyno’s grasp and began pacing around the room. His tail swished, low and agitated as he walked. “So, assuming that this isn’t a joke, you’ve just told me that you don’t stay dead after being killed on the field,” he recounted tightly. “How exactly did you find this out?” 

Cyno swallowed, suddenly sympathising with all the clueless adventurers who had to endure the ire of Tighnari’s infamous lectures. 

“Let’s say I believe you and what you told me was the absolute truth,” Tighnari continued, “you still came here expecting me to agree to making a euthanasia drug for you.”

“Well, it was more asking than expecting—” 

Tighnari finally stopped pacing. He whirled around with his ears flattened against his head. “You don't get it,” he exclaimed, “how dare you ask me to use my knowledge to create something with the purpose of ending your life. I don’t care if you miraculously come back afterwards, I refuse to take part in anything designed to cause you harm.”

“But—”

“No!” he seethed. 

So, that conversation had strayed far from its intended destination. No use in pushing forward now. Cyno stepped forward to envelop him in a firm embrace and buried his face into the crook of his neck. “This conversation has made you upset. I’m sorry.”

His hug was returned with a tight squeeze that bordered on slightly painful, resulting in a wheezing, “Nari. Can't breathe.” 

Tighnari immediately loosened his hold but made no move to apologise. “I can't believe you even thought to ask me that,” he muttered. 

Cyno cleared his throat. “To show you how truly sorry I am, I’ll treat you to a joke I thought of on my way over. Why did—“ 

“Master Tighnari!” 

Collei poked her head through the hut’s leafy barrier, blinking in surprise. “Cyno, when did you get here?” she asked. 

Cyno and Tighnari, still wrapped up in each other’s arms, stared at her for a while as they collected their thoughts. 

Collei shrunk back, letting the barrier slip over her head slightly. “Is everything okay? I’m not interrupting something, am I?” she pondered cautiously. 

Tighnari was the first to recover, catching the barrier so that Collei was in their full view again. “Cyno and I were just wrapping up our conversation,” he answered brightly, his tone giving nothing away about the mood in the room before her interruption. 

Collei pursed her lips and paused as if thinking about rebutting him. Instead, she shook her head and smiled widely. “I just wanted to let you know that everything has been all set up according to your instructions,” she said. Without waiting for a reply, she waved a hasty farewell and ducked out.

Cyno thought it was unusual for them to get interrupted by anyone, especially with Tighnari’s exceptional hearing. “You didn't know she was coming?” he asked curiously.

“You'll have to forgive me for having more pressing matters at hand,” he said flatly.

“Would you prefer it if I had just handed you the ingredients list without telling you what it was for?”

He shot him a flat look. “Really?”

Cyno frowned. “Maybe a different joke might help—”

“Anyway!” Tighnari cut in loudly. His posture straightened and his ears stood up once more. “Collei’s giving an orientation to our newest recruits. Would you like to come and observe?” 

Despite the obvious distraction, Cyno mentally filed the joke for another time at the sight of Tighnari’s demeanour visibly brightening while talking about Collei.

“You know I'll be there,” he replied.

“Come on then, we don’t want to be late.” Tighnari grabbed his hand and pulled him outside.

The sight of Collei lecturing a group of fresh-faced recruits on what to do when cornered by Rishoboland Tigers brought a swell of pride in Cyno’s heart so powerful that he struggled to contain his smile. 

Leaning against him on their perch in a nearby tree was TIghnari, tail swishing uncontrollably as he squeezed Cyno’s hands. Judging by his bright eyes and giddy smile, it could be surmised that he wasn’t even aware of the powerful grip he had on Cyno’s fingers. “Collei rehearsed this at least five times a day this week. For all her nerves, she’s doing it!” he exclaimed. 

Yeah, the possibility of broken fingers wasn’t enough for Cyno to be the one to interrupt this moment. “She's proven time and time again that the forest is safe under her leadership,” he added. “All that hard work means she’s well deserving of a sweep-in, tomorrow.” 

Tighnari hung his head. “That one’s your worst today.”

Unfazed, Cyno launched into his explanation. “You might think it was bad but you see, the humour stems from the idea that Collei works in the forest. A forest has many leaves, which you have to sweep away, and sweep sounds similar to—” 

“Tighnari!” The interrupting cry sounded from the opposite direction of Collei’s lecture. A Forest Watcher crashed through the bush, out of breath as he called for Tighnari’s attention once more. 

“If it’s another idiot from the Adventurer’s Guild…” Tighnari grumbled, detaching himself with a sigh. 

Cyno caught his hand to squeeze it before he could fully move away, chuckling at his ire. “I’ll go,” he offered.

On the ground, the Forest Watcher who called for their attention gave no sign of surprise at his arrival. “General Mahamatra, good to see you,” he greeted. 

“What’s the issue?” Cyno queried. A brief glance back up at the tree found pursed lips and twitching ears; it was clear that Tighnari had no issues with following their conversation from where he sat. Bless him and his giant fluffy ears. 

“A group of adventurers were found exploring a Withering Zone. Our team warned them to stay away but then monsters came out and we can’t safely rescue the injured without a Vision holder to fend them off.”

The issue sounded like more of a problem for Tighnari’s expertise but if all they needed was someone with a Vision, what difference was there between a bunch of ignorant adventurers compared to arrogant scholars being ripped away from their life’s work? 

“All right,” Cyno replied decisively, “I’ll go with you. Tighnari might join us if the issue takes longer to resolve, but if it’s a matter of scaring the adventurers into leaving and destroying the tumour, I don’t see the need to bother him about it yet.” 

Once he reached the site of the issue however, his confidence plummeted. Cowering in the centre of a rotten valley trembled three adventurers as a pack of Rifthounds circled above their heads. One woman brandished a broken knife, blindly swinging it around with the ferocity of a dusk bird. Arrows rained down on the Rifthounds with no effect, bouncing off their hulking forms despite the Forest Watchers’ persistence.

Relieved cries followed him into the dense necropolis, their praises crawling under Cyno’s skin more than the rotted stench around him. Bystanders were often more dangerous than the threat itself. 

Still, he ignored them in favour of pressing forward, just as he ignored the dimming corners of his vision. Rifthounds in general were already one of the more resilient pests. That on top of clearing a Withering Zone? Cyno couldn’t wait to have the issue done and dusted. 

He tore through the Rifthounds in a blur of lightning and claws as they descended on him; wave after wave, the relentless attacks continued. A sharp sting ripped into his side at some point and his grip on his polearm became slick; no time to check how much of it was blood or sweat. Burning muscles and tunnelling vision rang warning bells in his head to get out, before the Withering claimed his body as another part of the decay. 

Cyno's lungs seized with exertion as he dodged each corrosive slash. Even with the aid of Hermanubis’ power, each swing became sluggish and uncoordinated, no more effective than trying to jog through mud.

Then, a shower of dendro-infused arrows pelted down from above, piercing the remaining Rifthounds and forcing them back to their Abyssal domain. Tighnari stood at the peak of a nearby hill, steady determination directing sparks of dendrograna to all his targets. 

Relief released Cyno from his hold on the Pactsworn Path Clearer state, allowing it to dissipate along with his strength. His legs folded beneath him as he ungraciously flopped onto the ground. Dirt and debris clung onto his cheek, able to do little more than watch Tighnari finish the job. 

Tighnari. Swift, efficient, and graceful Tighnari–at this point, Cyno could only wish he had the energy to give him his full attention. To witness him working to protect the forest's vitality was a great honour. And no, Cyno was not biased as his partner. Anyone with an ounce of common sense would feel the same. Obviously. 

The oppressive smog of the Withering lifted away as a lush field of grass sprouted throughout the valley. An inquisitive lizard scurried past before disappearing into the beginnings of a leafy thicket. 

Yet instead of celebrating his win, Tighnari wasted not a second to rush over, wide eyes scanning over Cyno's body as his mouth twisted in anguish. “Cyno—” Tears welled up as he took in a few shaky breaths. “You're okay,” he tried again, “everything's going to be just fine. Just stay with me, yeah?” 

He continued to babble reassurances as he tore away at his own clothes to press against the wound. All that blood wasn't going to wash out for a while. Didn't he say he had just done the washing? 

It was odd, Cyno thought, that Tighnari would react this strongly when he had shown up unannounced with dramatic injuries many times before. Each time he had taken it in stride with the occasional stern scolding and sweet smelling ointments. Then again, single-handedly battling a hoard of Rifthounds while having one's strength sapped away was a death wish for even the most experienced fighters. 

A mental assessment of his body found that he experienced the heavy drag of fatigue more intensely than pain from the wound. Cyno knew he wasn't going to survive this and apparently, so did Tighnari. At least he had told him about his ability to return from the dead. No more nasty surprises. 

Right? 

Shit, who was he kidding? There was no way anyone would have believed him if given the same spiel he did earlier. Cyrus, Kaveh, and Alhaitham only did because they had seen it with their own eyes. 

“Nari.” Cyno’s tongue stumbled over the two syllables, refusing to cooperate past his growing exhaustion. “It's all right.”

Tighnari hushed him. Deft fingers carded through his hair, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. “Of course it will,” he said, his words obscured by the thick of tears. “You'll need your energy if you want to catch the rest of Collei’s presentation. Then we can play as many rounds of TCG as you want. I'll even take tomorrow off so you can help me organise my cards.”

Well, as tempting as it all sounded, Cyno didn't think that dying in front of his partner was a fair trade-off.

“I'll hold you to that,” he said anyway, more to indicate that he had heard him. His answer was barely a feeble whisper as it tapered off into the air.

Lucidity faded with each slow blink as Cyno found himself swathed in a cozy haze. That cottony warmth of falling asleep. He'd have to come up with a suitable apology later. 

Buzzing insects conversed with a choir of songbirds under sunlit dapples dancing between the leaves. The tangy aroma of medicinal herbs wafted through the air, permeated by the earthy undertones of damp wood after a rainstorm. 

Laid beneath a fluffy cloud of blankets and an even fluffier tail, Cyno stretched his limbs as quietly as he could. 

Despite his best efforts to keep his movements as small as possible, Tighnari stirred. Groggy eyes glazed with sleep blinked up at him, slowly registering the sight before him. 

“You’re awake!” he gasped, and shot up, sending the blankets flying off the bed as he knelt over Cyno. “How are you feeling? Any pain? Do you need anything? What about—” 

Cyno pulled him back down onto the bed, tugging on his arm to snuggle him close. “I'm okay,” he assured him softly. 

A warm hand rested itself on the left side of his chest. Tighnari tilted his head downwards and stilled. “It's steady,” he commented, before shifting to place his fingers on Cyno's wrist and neck, only to return a hand to his chest once more. 

His pulse may have been steady but it did nothing to stop the painful clench he felt when he felt something wet land on his skin.

“Take your time,” he murmured, “I'm not going anywhere.” 

Tighnari lifted his teary gaze. “I heard it. When it stopped beating.”

Cyno caught a stray tear with his thumb and wiped it away. A flurry of apologies leapt to the tip of his tongue but he forced himself to listen. 

“I never thought the sound of something being silenced could be so loud . You even said that you would be okay and yes, maybe I didn't believe you at first. I just can't stop thinking about what if you were wrong? What if the last proper conversation we had involved me yelling at you?

“The whole time you were—” he broke off with a strained cough “—whole time you were gone , I couldn't stop playing that moment over and over again.” 

Cyno adjusted the blankets, cocooning them both in a bubble of safety. “I'm here. I'm sorry that you had to witness that, and I'm especially sorry that I couldn't have prepared you better for it,” he replied softly. 

Tighnari rubbed his eyes. “How many times have you…” His words trailed off with the waver in his voice.  

Guilt twisted around Cyno’s heart with such a tight grip he wondered if it might stop beating then and there. Still, he owed it to him, to be honest. “Four, as far as I can remember,” he answered, “not all of them were painful. According to Cyrus, there may have been more. So far, my least favourite is probably getting crushed by a building and then suffocating in the sand.” 

“You say that so casually,” Tighnari muttered, a displeased edge colouring his tone. “How much pain were you in this time?” 

Reluctance sat heavy in Cyno's gut as his mind flicked through all the ways to reply. “Falling asleep in your arms has always been the easiest thing,” he deflected instead.

He received a flat look. “Flattery won't do you any favours.” 

“I'm already in your bed. What else do I need?” he shot back with a teasing smile. 

Tighnari’s assent to dropping the subject came in the form of a sigh and a light kiss on the forehead. The conversation dissipated after that; the sounds of their quiet breathing joining the forest's melody as they held each other close.

Chapter Text

Sumeru sweltered through a humid night, bathing the Avidya Forest in a hazy stupor as thick air clung onto everything that moved. Fireflies flitted about under the canopy like stars, the only ones to bear witness to the drunken chatter below. 

“Just one more round,” Kaveh was saying, slurring his words together as he loosely hung off Alhaitham’s shoulder, “I'll win this time. I'll—I'll show you.” 

“Kaveh, I think it's best that you go home and sleep this one off,” Tighnari chided lightly.

“No,” he protested. His hand shot out to point at something, missing his target entirely as he nearly hit a tree. “Cyno promised—” he hiccuped “—I get a rematch if I lost while using his own cards.” 

“I've never heard anyone so eager to announce their losing streak,” Alhaitham sneered. 

As appealing as the idea of playing more Genius Invokation TCG sounded, the sight of Kaveh barely able to support himself even while hanging off Alhaitham had Cyno agreeing with Tighnari.

“We can have a rematch next time,” he assured him. “I'll even go through each card in detail so you won't have to deal with losing again.” 

“I don't get it,” muttered Kaveh, eyes glazed over as he blinked at him slowly. 

“Dealing out cards. Dealing with losing,” he explained. “No?” 

No reaction. At least sober Kaveh was more appreciative of his jokes. He’d have to try again some other time. 

“Are you sure you're okay to walk back?” Cyno asked. “You know that there’s more than enough space. We can draw up a bath for you, if you like.”

One might have argued that Gandharva Ville wasn’t Cyno’s official place of residence, but no one had yet complained about him playing host. Besides, anyone who knew him on a personal level understood that his home was wherever Tighnari and Collei were. 

“I'd prefer it if we were home sometime before sunrise,” said Alhaitham. When Tighnari's only response was to sigh and shake his head, he announced, “all right, thanks. We'll be off then.”

“Wait,” Kaveh protested. “I didn't get to say bye to Collei.”

“She’ll be sad to have missed you but we'll pass on your message,” Cyno promised. 

Alhaitham caught his gaze, lips pressed into a frown as if working out what to say. “Do us a favour and stay alive. It’s not worth the extra paperwork,” he eventually said with an air of finality, and led Kaveh towards Sumeru City.

Cyno and Tighnari stood in silence as they watched their silhouettes fade into darkness. 

“Alhaitham's terrible bedside manner aside, it was nice of them to come and visit,” Tighnari remarked. 

“Indeed. I look forward to our next dinner.”

Cyno's most recent additions to his TCG collection were a convenient excuse to invite their friends over for dinner. Of course, once Collei had retired for the evening, questions about Cyno's well-being flew at him faster than an arrow, followed by dramatisations of what happened, courtesy of an increasingly inebriated Kaveh. 

“I still can't believe you thought you could have crawled out of there on your own,” said Tighnari, lightly bumping shoulders with Cyno as they meandered back towards his hut. “Do you know how devastating it would have been for them to not only witness a building falling on you but to be sent away like that? You could have at least told them why you'd be okay." 

“It's not like I made my case very believable for you either,” he pointed out.

“As farfetched as it was, it gave me hope.” He gave him a rueful smile. “But, I'm still immensely glad you told me. Grateful too, especially for the effort of you made with trying to break the news to me.” 

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss on his forehead and said softly, “I probably could have delivered the news better. It was my mistake for not being more prepared. A grave mistake, if you will.”

Tighnari’s silence gave him a boost of confidence to push further. 

“Still, I should also be thanking you for listening. It was a dead serious topic, after all,” he added, pausing expectedly to watch Tighnari’s reaction.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be sending me to my grave if you keep that up,” he muttered.

A surge of giddiness had Cyno pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. He peppered kisses all over his face and cheered, “Nari, that was a good one!”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” he said despite the pleased smile gracing his lips. 

As they approached the hut, Cyno noticed Tighnari absentmindedly tugging on the fur of his tail. 

“Is everything all right?” he asked. 

Tighnari was quick to nod. “Yeah, of course,” he replied, his tone a little too cheery to match his restless behaviour. 

“Is there something you didn’t want to share with the others around?” Cyno guessed. 

Wordlessly, Tighnari beckoned him inside and sat him by his desk. He opened a drawer and procured a familiar looking document. 

Stained yellow with age and oddly coloured blotches that Cyno didn't recall ever seeing before, he flipped through the pages to scrutinise the differences. Fresh ink scrawled across the margins depicted shorthand comments, questions, and formulas he could barely remember from his days as a student. 

A light touch to his shoulder brought his attention back to Tighnari, who was now standing before him with a small vial of a murky brown substance in hand. It was reminiscent of muddied water after being trudged through by a large convoy of dusty sumpter beasts.

Another flip through the document confirmed Cyno’s suspicions. He discarded the papers and rose out of his seat. “You did it,” he gasped. 

“I did.” 

He stepped closer, his gaze searching Tighnari's for answers. “What made you change your mind?”

He sighed. “I'm sorry that it took seeing you dying in front of me to realise the implications of me not helping you. What if the next time you're struck down and it's not a quick death? So much of your job requires you to be out in the desert all alone. What if there's no one around to help you get back on your feet?”

Cyno's mouth opened and closed; his tongue feeble against the weight of the words trying to crawl out. “Don't be sorry,” was all he could say.

Tighnari shook his head. “You came to me for help and while it still pains me to give this to you, the thought of you out there on your own waiting to die is what brings me the most agony.” 

“Nari, thank you—” Cyno rushed forward to kiss him, all teeth and no finesse, just the fierce love and gratitude that threatened to burst if he didn’t convey it somehow. “You have no idea how much this means.

Breathing heavily, Tighnari pulled back, taking the vial with him. He wiped his reddened lips with the back of his hand. “Promise me this is a last resort,” he implored vehemently.

Cyno paused to collect himself. “I promise,” he pledged.

“You'll go to Bimarstan or find a healer for serious injuries?” 

“Of course.” 

“And you'll only use this when you have no other options?” 

“You have my word.” 

Tighnari firmly pressed the vial into Cyno's hand. “Make sure you come back to me,” he said.

Cyno's fist enclosed around the vial. With his other hand, he cupped Tighnari’s cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “I will.”