Chapter Text
I
“Please.” He gasped out desperately. His voice hoarse from reciting the incantation over and over but to no avail. The man, Mydei, sat amidst a shoddily drawn magic circle with a purple tome unfurled in its center; the book’s spine frayed from the abuse of Mydei opening it day in and day out. He couldn't have gotten the spell wrong considering that he knew every word that littered those faded pages. Pages he shouldn’t even be in possession of.
Outlawed over 200 years ago by the High Magistrate after people grew fat on their greed for power and subjugation, the tome now ‘belonged’ to him; whether that was rightfully so or not was yet to be determined. Mydei knew there was a reason it was such an arduous task getting his hands on it despite being the crown prince. Hardly was there anyone who remained untainted by the sinister magic held within after opening it nor were there many who lived to tell the tale.
Unfortunately, Mydei did not have the luxury of leaving the book unopened.
He looked over the materials splayed out again. A lock of his lover’s hair— a shade of dark amber that glistened under the candle light —his locket— that contained a picture of them together under the oak tree where they met; a fondness in Mydei’s eyes that seemed so distant to him now— and a vial of his blood. The blood was the hardest for him to procure because it meant that he had to confront the reality of the situation.
That Hephaestion was dead.
Sweat dripped down the divet between his furrowed brows as he worried his lip between his teeth. He parted them again to recite the spell once more before he could decide it's an act of futility. This time the room swelled with power, sparking at the edges of his lopsided circle and coursing through his calloused fingertips. His cloak lifted from the sheer force of wind that erupted from the center of the circle as he braced himself against the rickety floorboards. He continued the incantation, a little more sure of himself now that his call had been answered. The candles flickered an impossible black hue before plunging the room into darkness. A thick smog rolled out from the circle; its tendrils wrapping around Mydei’s skin, constricting him like a starved boa.
Scarlet lines seared into his skin, spreading in large, thick strokes, burning so white hot that he couldn't stop himself from screaming out. Spots dotted his vision like a freshly coated brush had been flicked into his eyes.
He tried grasping something to anchor him, distract him from the pain, but the room had been cleared out for the ritual. His body lurched forward as he heaved bile, the fluid burning at the core of his throat. The excruciating pain was almost too much to bear.
An ancient voice thundered out commanding and terrible, his own yet not his at all, “I am thou, thou art I. You who does not value death shall bear this curse.”
The magic flourished once more before sputtering out in thick, black clouds. The suffocating miasma disappeared as if it had never existed save for the evidence of its touch on Mydei’s skin. Teetering through numbness and agony like a metronome, the pain and emptiness converged into one until his vision faded at the edges, slowly consumed, until he could see no more.
When Mydei awoke, he laid in a pool of his own blood and sweat; mucky and acrid. The scent of burnt flesh permeated the room. If he hadn't retched all of his stomach bile earlier, the stench would have sent him into another fit. His fingers pressed weakly against the floor as he pushed himself up. He could barely make out the figure in the doorway as his vision slowly caught up to his waking mind.
“Y–you, those marks—Dear Kephale, Prince Mydeimos.”
Mydei bristled blearily at his response, “What?” The pounding of his head nearly drowning out the man’s voice.
The doctor’s mouth formed into a harsh, judgmental frown, “These red marks that mar your body, they symbolize you have been touched by the black tide,” he paused to wet his chapped lips before he continued, “This pattern in particular denotes that you are an immortal vessel. Tell me the truth Prince Mydeimos, were you practicing forbidden magic?”
Mydei’s silence is all the answer he needed.
A pitiful look casted over his face,“There’s no magic that can bring people back; not to what they were before.”
“You don't think I know that?” He bit out. The last of the venom left in him seeping out through tired fangs.
“I know you do. Hence my concern, Your Highness. Seeing him as a mindless tide creature would dishonor his memory. I could not imagine the cruelty of you seeing him put to the blade again.”
There was nothing he could say to that.
The doctor slipped the bag off of his shoulder in one fluid motion before bending over to procure a cloth from it. Mydei watched him walk into his private bath to grab a pail that he filled with warm water from the tub. He picked a vial off of the shelf lined with them and turned the cap letting the scent waft before he decided it was good enough and poured it into the hot water. He staggered a little with the bucket in his hands, but safely arrived back at Mydei’s side. He dipped the cloth in the scented liquid, rung the cloth until it was slightly damp, and pressed it gently to Mydei’s skin.
“I don't believe you would be fond of the idea of a bath right now, Your Highness.” Mydei closed his eyes with a tired grunt. There was no fight left in the prince now.
“Not particularly.” With a sigh, he opened his eyes slightly, “Thanks.”
“It is no hardship, Your Highness.”
The room is silent save for the occasional sound of water as it sloshed in the bucket when Krateros dampened the cloth again. Mydei doesn't think he can parse the gravity of the situation just yet. Somewhere in the process his mind stopped keeping up after the realization that he had failed the ritual. He knew it was a fool’s errand, but deep down he needed something to keep him going. Even if it was as foolish as seeing his beloved draw breath again—whether the entity was truly Hephaestion or not—it was a pillar to keep Mydei from falling into an abyss he feared he wouldn't be able to come back from.
The jolt of the cloth returning to his skin tore him from his thoughts.
“I’m almost finished rinsing your skin. You’ll have to take care of the mess in here on your own I’m afraid.”
Mydei replied incredulously, “I wouldn’t ask you to clean it up anyway. It’s not your job after all.”
“Neither is rinsing you off, but I was feeling generous today.”
“Do you ever tire of your quips?”
He wrung the cloth over the bucket one more time before he set it down, “Never.” He picked up the bucket to dump it into the bathtub before turning back to Mydei; his face soft at the edges,“I know I’m not as reliable as Gorgo was, but I want you to know that you can confide in me.”
“You aren’t,” he huffed, “She was a better listener than you, wittier too.”
“Well, I couldn’t best the master at it could I?” He laughed fondly, “I’ll be in my study, Your Highness. Come and find me after you’ve cleaned up. It reeks something awful in here.”
“It must be the scent of your upper lip.”
“You must be in splendid shape already. The prince of Kremnos sure knows how to bounce back.”
“Good night, Krateros.” The man understood the silent dismissal and with a bow took his leave. Mydei stood up from the bloodstained spot on the floor and flopped onto his bed. The sheets getting dirty were the last thing to occupy his mind right now.
“How cruel that I may live forever without ever seeing you again?”
He doesn't cry. He hadn’t been able to when he saw his lifeless body, but he wished he could have then. He wished he had an outlet for all the turmoil swirling within him. He wished he could scream and wail and curse the gods, wished he could see his smile again, but most of all he wished he had Hephaestion back.
Mydei pressed his fingers up against his lids and fell into a dreamless slumber.
***
He awoke with a start. The sound of hurried footsteps made themselves known outside his chambers. There was no knock, no formalities as his doctor stood in the doorway drenched in sweat.
“My liege there isn’t much time, we must make haste. Only take what you can carry and head with me to my office.”
Leaving no room for argument, Mydei grabbed a satchel and hurriedly shoveled his important belongings within. He hesitated for a second before he took the bundle of hair and tucked it deep into his bag. The locket he secured around his neck with a small click, and the vial, now devoid of the blood that it held prior, was hastily shoved in his bag as an afterthought.
He followed the doctor down the dimly lit spiral staircase as the sounds of shouts pierced through the stone walls, “Krateros, what is going on?” Mydei whispered.
Krateros’ shoulders sagged, weary, “They are looking for you, Your Highness. The Magistrates dogs have caught wind of someone accessing the black tide. We should be thankful they’re not aware of who it is within the palace.”
Mydei muttered a curse under his breath, “I thought I’d have more time.”
“Unfortunately for both of us, that isn't the case.”
They arrived in front of Krateros’ office, the flicker of torch lights slowly encroaching them from a distance. The doctor quickly closed the door behind them and slammed the wooden latch down. He grabbed a chair to press against the door to buy them time before he scrambled for his desk, “Take this, Prince Mydeimos.”
A red letter lined in gold foil was pressed into his hands. “It's a referral to Okhema Institute. You’ll be safe there.”
“Okhema? That’s three days by dromas from here.” Mydei muttered to himself.
“Lift the tile to the left of my bookcase, the servant tunnel is behind the shelf; you’ll have to escape that way.”
“And what of you Krateros?”
“I’m the one who casted the spell, remember?”
His eyes widened as the realization dawned on him, “Krateros, no. I won’t let you.”
“And let you die? I promised Gorgo I’d protect you, Prince Mydeimos, I can't lose you too.”
He gritted his teeth. Krateros’ resolve unwavering before him, “You have my thanks. I will never forget this, Krateros.”
The door began to split at the edges from the incessant banging.
“May Kephale watch over you, Your Majesty.”
“And Gorgo, you.” He said before he slipped into the servant tunnel; never to see him again.
***
It had been 3 days since Mydei barely escaped Castrum Kremnos on dromasback. The vibrant cityscape of Okhema was finally in view to reward him for all of his trouble. The weight of the letter now felt heavier in his satchel as he approached. Krateros gave his life to give Mydei this opportunity.
He wouldn’t squander it.
The gates of Okhema Institute stood proud. Mages clad in an assortment of colored cloaks ran about the courtyard like streaks of fleeting rainbows. His dromas prodded at his side with his scaled head careful to not nick him with his horns. Mydei gave him a gentle rub to reassure him that this place was safe or at least he hoped it was. He tugged on his reins and walked him over to where the other dromas, magical creatures, and mythical beings were stored. Mydei handed the reins to his dromas, Leo, over to the stable master. He was reluctant to do so, but the woman assured him that Leo would be safe in the stables and that he could see him again after he was properly registered.
Belatedly, he realized that finding the admissions office would be no easy feat considering how imposing the main building was and his hesitancy to ask around. He glanced out at the herd of students with a sigh before something—someone—caught his eye.
A tuft of hair reminiscent of the moonlight breaching his windows in the warm Kremnoan summers crossed his vision. Polished sapphire eyes alight with curiosity and muted mischief were trained on him. The man shuffled effortlessly through the bustling hoard of students; his white cloak fluttering with every step he took towards Mydei.
“You there—” He started.
Mydei crossed his arms across his chest defensively, “What?”
The man chuckled, “We can’t talk here. Too many—” He paused before he glanced around; his voice now akin to a whisper, “Eyes. I know we don't know each other yet,” Mydei’s eyes narrowed in response as if he would dare befriend this sprout shaped, overly familiar— “But, I think I know what you're here for.”
Mydei’s expression shuttered slightly before he spoke, “And what would that be?”
“You’ve been touched by the black tide, haven't you?”
***
Mydei had reluctantly followed the man with the twilight hair; abandoning his previous plans of making it to the admissions office, they stopped in front of a secluded classroom in the basement level of the main building. A splintered sign powdered with dust and cobwebs sagged on the wall, reading the words: OCCULT CLUB in thick, bold letters. The door let out a deafening screech as the man pried it open.
Despite its outer appearance, the interior of the room was well furnished. Large oak arches lined the northern wall, each empty space filled with picture frames of only those he could assume frequented the club room. Golden drapes tied with fine thread although they had no windows to adorn they didn't seem out of place. The room was illuminated by mannequin shaped lamps with light bulbs for heads placed throughout. Desks were huddled in the back of the room whereas the front of the room had satin couches occupied by other students and a tea table with a silver three-tiered tray stacked with an assortment of sweets in the center of them.
“Welcome to the Occult Club,” The man said, “Otherwise known as the Flamechasers.”