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It was cycle 19. Attempt 19. He was buying time, it was worthwhile. He had to keep going even though it hurt. It hurt so much.
Every cycle wore on him more. Khaslana wasn't sure how much of him would be left by the time they reached the ending, whatever -and whenever- the ending might be.
He was… bitterly alone, and all he wanted was to curl up in his bed at home and let his mom bring him some soup to see if he could stomach it, and run her fingers through his hair while he dozed.
His chest ached, his lungs burned. His stomach twisted uncomfortably with nausea.
Aedes Elysiae was already destroyed. His parents were already dead, swallowed by the Black Tide in this cycle. There would be no comfort of home while he weathered through this weakness.
Not that they were really his parents, or it was his Aedes Elysiae, those had both been washed away more than a dozen cycles ago. Now Khaslana was untethered by anything but the path that Cyrene had set before him, that and his own rage.
He had to… keep going. Had to confront his next obstacle, from the looks of things, it would be Anaxa next. Again.
It wasn't a fight he should take at less than his best, even if he should be able to handle it with very little effort. Underestimating his opponents was never a good idea. But the longer he waited the more risk there was of them making progress to the Era Nova.
…Just one more night of rest. One night to rest his weary, burning body. Then he'd go and collect Wisdom's Coreflame.
They would not achieve the Era Nova in a single night, and the time to collect himself would be worthwhile. That's what he told himself, at least.
It didn't matter, he could push himself forward. He'd done it before, he'd do it again. Khaslana had already watched everyone he'd ever loved die - no, it was worse than that. He'd killed everyone he'd ever loved with his own two blood soaked hands. What did it matter if he destroyed himself, too?
Certainly the coreflames were doing the job. They didn't need the help, but there was no point in delaying it anyway.
Still, he settled into an area away from the nearest path, well-shaded, and leaned back against a tree. There was much to fear in the dark, maybe… even for him. But there were no walls he dared to seek shelter in.
Sleep claimed him, but the burning fever did not make rest easy. Memories and horrors danced through his mind, leaving him rattled and off balance.
The nausea worsened until it woke him enough to lean over and vomit, an unpleasant mix of golden blood and stomach acid pooled. He… tried not to think about it.
His body could barely handle the coreflames he had already…. and yet, there were doubtless countless cycles left ahead of him. He couldn't stop he had to keep going. Prevent the Era Nova. Buy them enough time to bring a true dawn.
The future that Cyrene prayed for felt like such a distant, impossible dream.
He missed her. His Cyrene, the one who had had his back all the way through learning the truth about the Era Nova and the extrapolations that formed the basis of their very world. She'd been right, every her had made the same choice she had. Every echo of the person who had been beside him through what he had believed to be the worst days of his life.
It had only gone hill from there, after she went away to do what she had to do to help urge this forward.
He dozed off again despite not really feeling any better. There was nothing left for him to bring up anyway. Though it didn't always stop his body from trying.
Khaslana doesn't know how long it's been when he opens his eyes again, a presence nearby drawing his attention, but not his ire.
Her hands are on him, feather light, but obviously checking if he's okay. A petite girl with pink hair.
"Cyrene?" The name slips across his lips before reality kicks in fully. His heart constricts and for a moment he feels the burn of tears in eyes that had been dry for the last five cycles at least.
A shake of his head. "No, you're not- sorry." Hyacinthia, trust her to materialize at the worst possible moment.
"Is she your friend? I could look around for her, but you were alone when I-"
"No… she's… dead. The black tide took her." A lie, but it was close enough to the truth that it didn't matter. He'd been confused by the dreams he'd been having, about when she was still around him. Still comforting, still a rock in the storm that he could rely on to help him find his way.
"I'm sorry for your loss," gently, "I'm Hyacine, a healer of the Twilight Courtyard. Please, let me take you back. Your fever is really high and you are extremely dehydrated."
He should tell her it was pointless, that she couldn't save him. That there was nothing of him left to save anyway. There was no point in wasting her time or her energy, her kindness. He would survive and drive forward because there was nothing else for him to do.
But her kind, determined eyes made it clear that such dismissal would be met with an argument. He'd have to hurt her to get her to stay away from him.
He wasn't ready to hurt her. Gentle Hyacine, hardly a threat until it was time to reclaim Aquila's coreflame. It would be nearly impossible to retrieve it without her help. She was always among the last. It was always one of the hardest, because of how kind she was.
How… determined and naive. But she meant well, truly.
Bitter guilt burned within him. He'd already killed her and Anaxa so many times. He'd just been thinking about how he would have to go through the Grove to get the coreflame a few hours ago.
She should hate him. Even if he didn't raze the courtyard, there were almost always casualties.
And yet, even when the truth was revealed, she wouldn't hate him. Only try and persuade him that there was another way.
Khaslana wished it were so simple.
"There's no need to worry about me, Miss. I'm sure the fever will break." He tries anyway, despite how weak his voice sounds to his own ears. He's not sure the fever can break, generated by the burning Coreflames as it is.
"I'm sorry, but as a doctor I really must discourage this plan of action. The area isn't very safe, and you need proper food and fluids to recover."
"…As you wish, miss Hyacine."
He'd come up with something if the fever didn't break to her liking. But maybe it would put him in the right position to end up right where he wanted to be. Or at least, that was the excuse he was going to give himself for the way he folded so easily to her will.