Even after they''d left Grim to their own devices, Aster couldn''t stop thinking about the things they''d said. They''d done their best to treat Grim’s wounds, but it didn''t feel like they''d done enough. It wasn''t like they could''ve taken Grim or the Lantern with them, that would''ve introduced all kinds of dangers and discomforts for both parties, but...
Aster made herself walk. She moved methodically, calculatedly, filling the role they needed her to fill. She could do that. Her mind was elsewhere, though, and her limbs didn’t want to move. Every movement felt strange and foreign and unwilling. It shouldn’t matter if she moved languidly or strangely, though. Not right now. She just had to keep moving, that was all they needed from her.
Even though Grim hadn’t tried to hurt Aster, their words that hadn’t even been directed at her cut deep.“I give them the courtesy they never spare for the creatures of the Depths. ... I give them a chance to try to prove themselves to me. ... By refraining from the slaughter of creatures they don’t understand, even when they pose potential danger to them. By seeing the humanity in Shades, despite what they’ve been told.”
“I judge your guilt as deep and unyielding.”
Aster couldn’t breathe for a moment.
She tried to furtively clutch at her chest as she tried to breathe, as if any of that could help her soothe the pain she couldn’t feel physically. None of it would unravel the knots in herself.
There was a Shade that had haunted her longer than any other. One she’d fought that had hurt her deeper than any... No. That was wrong. It wasn’t their fault. They’d attacked her, but then, they’d been desperate... but they could take some of the blame, couldn’t they?
Aster was grasping at straws, wasn’t she?
It was self defense, she desperately told herself. It was. It was true.
“By refraining from the slaughter of creatures they don’t understand, even when they pose potential danger to them.”
They’d just wanted to live, hadn’t they? Just like her.
“I judge your guilt as deep and unyielding.”
What good would it do even if she mourned them now?
What could she possibly do?
Aster wanted to scream. As if that would do anything at all.
She could ask for help. She could talk to the others. They’d probably have good things to say.
Yet, she didn’t want to hear any wise advice. Any methods to move forward. It felt wrong.
Aster didn’t deserve to heal, did she? After all, that Shade would never get to heal.
If she’d just been more careful... If she’d just remembered to care more about everyone else, in that moment... She could’ve prevented this. She could’ve done better. And since she could’ve done better, and since it didn’t have to be that way...
Despite what she understood about why it happened, it was still her fault, wasn’t it?
Does it matter now? She asked herself numbly. I can’t change it. I can just be... someone else. From that moment on. I can learn, it’s the least I can do. I can be everything I wasn’t then.
Maybe she was one of Grim’s enemies.
It wasn’t about intentions, was it? It was about potential. It was about whatever really happened.
It was so long ago. Had she proven yet that she could be different?
Could she? It felt wrong to trust herself.
She instructed herself to stop thinking. She just had to keep moving.
Keep going, keep moving forward, ever closer to her next inevitable mistake. Ever closer to the moment when she finally inadvertently broke it all. Then at least she wouldn’t have to dread it anymore. Then at least she couldn’t lie to anyone anymore.
It was exhausting to pretend. It was exhausting to always look just like herself, even when she couldn’t be.
As if I’m the only one that’s exhausted. Aster blinked, looked around at her companions, each cutting through the fog. It wasn’t like she was the only one in pain.
Who was she to seek solutions for herself? Why her?
She took a deep breath. It didn’t help much.
Aster dug out one of her maps and studied it as she walked, trying to determine where they must be. She’d rarely ventured this deep into the first level, so all the information she had from this point forward was vague and secondhand. It’d already been a while since they’d seen an opening to the sky, though.
There’s no turning back from here.
Well, it wasn’t like there was much chance to turn back before, either.
Aster wasn''t sure where the fog would let up. If anything, it seemed to be getting thicker, though maybe that was her imagination. She could almost imagine she wasn''t deep in the Depths, when the walls were far enough apart that the fog entirely obscured them.
“Should we take some precautions to make sure none of us get lost?” Mira piped up, half-visible in the roiling mist. Her voice was a mix of hesitation and certainty that struck Aster as a suggestion she''d been second-guessing for a while. “Sometimes I can''t see all of us at once, in the fog.”
Aster blinked, silently cursing her own inattention. “You’re right. Thanks for pointing it out, I’m not sure why I didn’t notice.” She let out a breath. “Not sure why”, huh? I’m too busy tripping over myself, I’m plenty sure about that. She wanted to apologize, but it didn’t seem like it’d mean anything either way. Aster flung a bit of pooled light into the fog to test, but sure enough, the mist closed the cleared area quickly.
“Hey, Tune,” she said, glancing back at them.
“Yeah?”
“Do you still have that little light you snatched earlier?”
“Mhm.” They dug it out and held it in a shade cloth on their hand. The fog cleared in a small area around the light, where its warmth radiated. “Huh. That''s nice. Not much of a range, though.” They tossed it back and forth between their hands, and the fog did stay clear for longer that way, but it still gradually seeped back in to fill the area.
“Mm.” Aster nodded. She took out a long, sturdy rope, tied it around her non-dominant wrist, and brought the rope over to Mira. “This is probably the best we can do for now, then.”
Mira paused, looking at the rope and the way Aster had tied it. She nodded, tying it to her own wrist.
Aster moved through the group, letting each of them add themself to the rope, leaving some slack between each person to let them move mostly normally. Aster stepped over to Tune last. “How far along the rope do you need to be?”
Tune hesitated. “Doesn''t this just mean that if we get in a bad situation, we''re all stuck together?”
“You''d rather run?”
They paused, studying her expression. “It depends.”
“That seems like an awfully evasive answer.”
They folded their arms. “That is the point of running. You know, evading something? Disaster, usually.” They sighed. “Look, I''m just trying to be realistic. There''s no point in just not thinking about it, to avoid coming to any conclusion you might feel bad about. Either way, it''s not like the rope is foolproof. So we could escape it if it becomes a problem, at least. Just... Let me trail behind, please. To be out of the light, and to be able to choose how close to be.”
Aster nodded. This was one of the longest ropes she had, so she was able to give them a good amount of slack. She left the rest of the rope with them and moved back to the rest of the group. They kept moving.
The fog only deepened as they continued. Aster steadily became sure that she really could feel it, with occasional droplets gradually condensating on her skin and clothes.
The tunnel they were in began to slope steadily downward. Aster checked the maps she''d collected. They were out of the territory she’d personally mapped, so the pieces of information she had were scattered and sometimes outdated. She didn''t have any sources that mapped routes all the way through the Depths, though she had reason to believe that there were tunnel systems that went the whole way.
She couldn''t shake the feeling that she was leading them into some preventable disaster. The problem was that she quite nearly always felt that way, and it was difficult to inquire into where the feeling came from and if it meant anything at all.
Was the fog really getting even thicker? Surely it was her imagination this time, right?
The fog was gradually resolving into a layer of dew. Condensating, permeating the air. And at a certain point, if the humidity reached a high enough percentage, it wouldn’t be able to hold any more water, and...
Aster stopped at the edge of a much steeper slope and looked up across an underground lake. Little floating lights drifted lazily through the fog above the water.
She sighed, half-heartedly kicking at the lapping water. Commonly visited bodies of water in the Depths tended to have some combination of boats or bridges or something in that vein, for Lanterns’ use. This one wasn''t exactly “commonly visited”, though. So now it was Aster''s turn to conjure up a suitable solution.
It''d be fitting, wouldn''t it? If, instead of a crucial, dramatic moment that finally displayed her weakness, her great failure came by simple incompetence at a logistical challenge. Not only would it prove her inability, it also wouldn''t even be able to be construed as an honorable defeat by a formidable enemy, it''d just be...
Shut up, not helpful.
She just had to focus on the next step she would take. She couldn''t afford to accept any defeat that seemed the least bit negotiable.
Tune watched as Aster took in a breath. “Well. This is... Inconvenient.”
“You don''t say.” Hyacinth bent down, examining some of the loose rocks at the shoreline. He skipped one across the water.
“Great idea! We''ll simply become pebbles,” Tune piped up from where they lingered away from the group’s light.
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“What?” Hyacinth turned toward them, an eyebrow raised.
“The pebbles sure have an easier time getting across than we do. That one didn''t make it all the way, but I bet we could figure out a method. So, naturally, we do that, and then transform ourselves into pebbles.” They tried to say it so that the others couldn''t tell if they were trying to make an actual suggestion, and could mayhaps find that more puzzling, even, than the suggestion itself.
Hyacinth stared at them quizzically. “What?” He repeated.
Tune laughed. “It was the easiest solution to think of, was it not?”
“That doesn''t make it easy to put into practice, much less, y''know, possible?”
“Of course not. Did I ever say such a thing?” They grinned at Hyacinth.
He shook his head in bemusement. “O-okay then.”
Tune hummed to themself as they picked their way over to the water, staying just outside the range of the Lanterns’ light. They guided their tether with the hand it was tied to, making sure it wouldn''t get in their way.
They could see a hint of a reflection of themself in the dark water. On a whim, they took out the little floating light again and left it hovering above the water so there was light to reflect. There they were. “Tune”, whoever that was. Well, whoever that was going to become. They’d build something. They just wished they could first understand more about the abandoned structure they had to build over, so to speak.
Tune traced their cheek with their translucent fingers, brushing the marks that had been their constellations. They looked strange with all their lights out now. Darkened, you could say - like lights in a house''s windows. Would anyone ever really live there again?
They retrieved the light, tucked it away, and brushed their fingers against the surface of the water. It was shockingly cold, but still liquid.
Tune could make it colder.
They swirled and gathered the shadows over the water, displacing lingering bits of light and heat until they could hear a soft cracking noise of frost and ice snaking along the water’s surface.
They deepened their gathering darkness and continued the process until they’d formed a small crust of ice cresting the water. Tune tested it with their hand. It wouldn’t hold them with their full weight, but...
They shifted into their more insubstantial form and stepped up onto the ice. It was slippery, but in this form, it could hold them. They found it harder to keep hold of the shadows (or much of anything) in this form, so they stepped back and shifted back.
“Hyeheh.” They smirked to themself, stretching their hands together out in front of them as they prepared to see how far they could go with this.
Which brought the rope around their wrist clearly into view.
Tune blinked. Right. They glanced over to the group, who were discussing amongst themselves.
They sighed. It was a small lake, all things considered, but even if they could get across on their own, what point would there be? Even if I managed to get out of the Depths on my own, I’d have to constantly hide from every other person and the sun.
Would that really be harder than trying to work with others?
S’pose I’ll just have to find out. Tune finished stretching, then moved a little closer to the group, as close as they could get without needing to worry about the light. “So, what’s the plan? We got one yet?”
“Something like that,” Hyacinth said. “We’re thinking of patrolling the shoreline to see if there are any better locations or structures for crossing.”
Aster nodded. “What were you doing over there?”
“Uh, you know how some creatures in the Depths can gather shadows and displace heat and stuff? I can form ice on the water, and it can hold my weight while I’m in my other form.” Tune cupped their chin in the crook of their thumb and pointer finger. “If you guys wanna pick a direction, I can go the other way, and we can see if we find anything nearby. I bet I could make it across on my own, if I needed. Though uh, there wouldn’t be a point unless I use that to help you guys come too.” That sounded like an afterthought, didn’t it? How much did they have to make it seem more and more genuine before it was the right balance to be believable?
Aster paused. “That’d be fine, but... that doesn’t seem very safe for you.”
Tune tapped their cheek. “I guess not, but... It’s not like any of the rest of you have a less tangible form, unless I’ve missed something.”
“I could go with you,” Hyacinth offered. He pointed to the rope he’d tied on his arm. “I’m the next person tethered after you, and I’m an experienced Lantern. I could follow you along this shore and stay within earshot of you, at least.”
Tune looked at him, a part of them trying to figure out if they were worried for Tune’s safety or just wanted to keep an eye on them. It’s not like I have enough information to figure that out. It’s not worth worrying about right now. “Sure, that could work. Don’t blame me if that plan doesn’t go well, though.”
Hyacinth raised an eyebrow at them.
They sighed softly, their stomach clenching for a second as they realized how strange that sounded without the context of their thoughts. “Sorry, I mean... I’m concerned that will just split up the group more and introduce more potential danger.”
“Neither of us would be fully alone, though. That’s better than you being alone.”
“Why would you trust me like that?” It slipped out before they thought it through. Aw heck. Was it wise to say that out loud?
Hyacinth blinked a few times. “Would you rather I don’t?”
“Not exactly, I just...” Tune hummed softly, tapping their fingers on their folded arm. “Look, I don’t want anything to happen to you either. Especially since I’d... probably get blamed for it regardless of what happened, right?” They cleared their throat awkwardly. “Um. Well, not necessarily. It’s just... A possibility I have to consider, y’know?”
Hyacinth let out a breath. “I see.”
“I know we haven’t figured out how much trust we’ve really proven yet,” Aster said, tapping her fingers on her lantern handle in a quick, rhythmic pattern. “Like, how much we can actually trust each other. We’ve had glimpses, though, and we don’t have a lot of options at the moment. If I’m going to fail, I’d rather fail by trusting someone when I shouldn’t than by distrusting someone when I should trust them. Maybe that’s... na?ve, but I think we at least have enough information to test our trust a little.”
Tune paused to think for a moment, but no better options came to mind. Hyacinth untied his tether and brought out a long rope of his own, tying it to his arm and offering one end of it to Tune.
Tune hesitated a moment longer, then took the rope. “Can this span the whole lake?”
Hyacinth glanced at the water. “It strikes me as more of a pond, really, but it’s hard to tell. Either way, it probably makes it across a good portion of it, and I think having a tether to each other will be worth the trouble, in case we aren’t able to call out if something happens.”
They nodded, tying it tightly to their wrist. They paused, then shifted to their less substantial form and tested the rope. Even though their extremities tended to be their most translucent features, their arm did work as an anchor point to pull them, though it still wasn’t their center of gravity. Their torso and upper legs seemed less tangible in this form, actually.
Tune shifted back. “I suppose I’m ready, then.”
Hyacinth nodded. “So, you all are heading that way?” He gestured to the side that was on the right when facing the lake.
“Seems so,” Aster said, looking that way. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference from what we know so far.”
“‘Kay.” Hyacinth left a Lantern marker on the ground. “We can rendezvous here in a couple hours if all else fails. Do your best to be safe.”
Aster nodded. “Both of you as well, alright?”
“Of course.” Hyacinth smiled, holding up a hand as he turned to leave. “Hope to see you all soon.”
The groups split. Hyacinth arranged a few dimming cloths over his lantern so he could walk with Tune.
They hummed their tune absently, the one that was their namesake, though it wasn’t the only one they would hum. They weren’t sure how many of their tunes had existed in their life before and how many they made up as they went; it wasn’t like they could check.
Hyacinth stretched out his hand toward the water as he walked. Tune watched curiously. The stars on his hand glowed softly, and a faint ray of light reached out from his hand toward one of the floating lights. The light ray seemed to beckon the little light, and it drifted toward him, its soft light cutting through the fog. He smiled slightly, coaxing it further until it was in reach.
“These things have been pretty safe in your experience, right?” He glanced at Tune.
They nodded. “Haven’t tested with a Lucenari yet, though.”
“We’re about to find out.” He snatched the little light and kept walking while he examined it. “It’s warm.”
“It doesn’t burn your skin, does it?”
He looked up. “No. It does that to you?”
Tune nodded. “Just a bit, it’s not as bad as most lights. I can handle it fine with a layer of cloth or so.”
Hyacinth’s gaze lingered on them for a moment, then he turned back to the light, tossing it in the air. He expected to catch it on the way down while he walked, but had to grab it early as it drifted languidly down. “Do you like the warmth?”
“Yeah. I have pretty good tolerance to cold, thankfully - you need it down here - but... some part of me misses warmth.” They hesitated. Nah. That’d be dumb to say, wouldn’t it? “These lights somehow feel a bit like home”, what does that even mean?
“I see.” They walked in silence for a small stretch, then Hyacinth tucked the little light away and turned his attention in the direction of the water again. He swept out a hand, and more of the stars on his arm glowed this time, sending out little rays of light, as he gently pulled several of the little lights at once, stirring up the fog and creating openings in it. He switched targets, moving further along the lights toward the other shore.
“Hey, I saw the other shore,” Tune said once a bit of the fog cleared enough that they could spot some ground. “You’re right, it’s not all that far across. Can you tell how deep it is?”
Hyacinth chuckled. “We dropped a weighted line while you were distracted. It’s pretty deep - as far as Aster could tell, most of it is at least twice our height, at least in the area we checked.”
“Ah.” Tune hesitated. “While I’m in my other form, I won’t be able to speak. Um... If I hold out my hand straight like this,” they demonstrated, “that’ll mean ‘stop’. If I make a fist and move it quickly like this, that’s ‘danger’, or tugging on the rope if I need help. And I’ll just point if I want you to look a certain way or keep going. Does that sound manageable?”
Hyacinth nodded, then smiled slightly. “That’s easy to remember, don’t worry. We might wanna look into learning a sign language sometime, though. That’d be easier than making up everything yourself, right?”
Tune chuckled. “Yeah, probably. I don’t exactly have resources for that at the moment, though. Were there ways to learn one in your hometown?”
“Yeah. I never learned very much, but I knew it was there. I’m sure there are resources to be found beyond the Depths, too.”
Tune paused. “Do you think we’ll get there?”
Hyacinth went quiet for a moment. “I hope so.”
“So you’re not sure?”
He rubbed his neck self-consciously. “I’m not great at making realistic predictions. I tend to assume the worst, so instead of trying to really pin down what I assume will happen, I generally just try to do everything I can.”
“I guess that makes sense. How do you know when you need to give up on futile efforts then?”
Hyacinth stiffened. Even Tune could see he was suddenly uncomfortable. He chuckled nervously. “I guess I don’t. Most things feel futile, so I don’t often try to think too far ahead.” He dropped his hand. “It’s not perfect. I know that.”
“Oh, I wasn’t trying to...” Tune exhaled softly. “Sorry. I don’t think I thought very far ahead about what I was saying.” They chuckled weakly and paused awkwardly. “Hey. You’ve made it this far. How many supposedly futile things have had to work out to get here?”
Hyacinth paused, then smiled slightly. “A lot. In my own estimation, I never would’ve lived this long, with all the moments I thought I wouldn’t survive. I’ve so far been wrong each of those times.”
“I hope you keep being wrong, then.” Tune paused to leave the statement unclear for a few seconds, then smiled mischievously.
He laughed. “Thanks.”
Tune walked a little further, then stepped toward the water. They formed a crust of ice as large as they could make quickly, spreading the frost as far forward as they could reach from where they stood, then shifted to their less tangible form and stepped onto the ice. They stepped forward cautiously, but it did seem like enough. They edged out further, swirling and stirring the darkness ahead of them to make more ice as they went. It formed slower with the lesser control they had in this form, but they thought they could get the hang of it with more practice. Hyacinth slowed down, following them parallel along the shore. He stopped as they slowly ventured out further onto the water, and adjusted the floating lights as he could to try to clear the fog for them as they went.
Tune nodded appreciatively toward him. He dipped his head slightly in return.
As they approached the other shore, they thought they could see a dark shape on it. They squinted, as if that’d let them see through the fog, then pushed a light within their reach to clear the fog in front of them. Sure enough, the shape resolved into an object - a boat, in fact, grounded on the opposite shore.
Tune let out a soundless whoop, forgetting the futility of it, and turned toward Hyacinth to point excitedly at it.
He smiled, doing a thumbs-up, then shrugging. “I can’t see that far with such little light, but I’m glad you found something,” he called over to them.
They nodded and began picking their way back. Some of the ice had already melted, but they could make it again easily enough. They could keep it cold enough if they focused on it a bit, so they weren’t likely to be caught by surprise with the ice under their feet melting suddenly, but they weren’t sure if they could maintain much more at once.
Their attention was stolen by what they thought was a light flashing deep in the water. It only appeared for a moment, and once they looked they couldn’t find it again. Had they imagined it?
No, there it was again.
The little floating lights drifted close around Tune, seeming almost to gather toward them.
“Tune?” Hyacinth called from the shore.
They waved their hand absently, wanting him to wait. They crouched down, trying to get a better look.
Tune exhaled, letting themself relax. They could feel the warmth of the lights clustering around them. They’d found the boat, and getting back would be easy. What was the rush? They could spare a moment to figure out what could be glimmering down there.
A shape with the light approached through the water, moving fluidly. Tune leaned forward, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. Their ice started melting, but they decided not to renew it for now. They could get a better look from in the water, after all. It’d be a bit cold at first, but they could take the lights with them for that. They were so warm, so gentle.
“Tune!” Hyacinth called out to them with an urgency they found confusing as they slipped into the eager embrace of the water.