Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arlecchino sat on the velvet couch, her posture poised, one leg crossed over the other. Her hands rested on her lap, fingers unmoving as her black and red eyes flicked over the twins, inspecting them with quiet intensity.

“Children,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence with unnerving precision.

Lyney bowed deeply, his movements deliberate. “Father,” he responded, his gaze lowering.

“Did anyone follow you?” she asked, her words measured, as though she were expecting an answer that might not please her. Though she trusted her children’s capabilities, there was no room for complacency.

“No, Father. We were not followed,” Lyney replied, his tone steady, but there was a slight stiffness to it.

Arlecchino’s gaze remained unblinking as she observed their response. Then, with a faint shift of her body, she watched Lyney slowly remove the hood that had concealed his face. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound that broke the quiet. Lynette mirrored his movements, lowering her hood and flicking her ears to catch any sign of pursuit.

When she was satisfied, Lynette’s gaze met Lyney’s, exchanging a silent understanding, the tension between them palpable.

Arlecchino’s eyes lingered on them for a moment longer, her focus unyielding. She had not yet spoken, but it was clear she was assessing them—measuring them in ways they couldn’t fully understand.

“I am assigning you a dangerous task,” she finally said, her tone flat but commanding. “Are you willing to leave Fontaine?”

Lyney stood a little straighter, his voice firm. “We are willing to accept any task you assign, Father,” he answered, though a trace of something unreadable lingered in his eyes.

“Good,” Arlecchino replied simply. There was no satisfaction in her voice, no approval, just the quiet finality of someone accustomed to giving orders.

“As you know,” she continued, “Natlan has suffered a terrible tragedy. But in every tragedy, there is something to be learned. I want you to infiltrate Natlan and bring back an ancient name.”

The twins exchanged a brief, confused glance.

“Father…” Lyney began, the question lingering in his voice. “What is an... ancient name?”

Arlecchino sighed softly, rising from the couch in one fluid motion. Her heels clicked sharply against the stone floor, echoing through the room with every deliberate step. She took a few slow strides, her silhouette cutting a sharp line against the dim light as she positioned herself beside Lyney.

“An ancient name,” she said, her voice steady and composed, “is an obsidian feather, engraved with names, titles—marks of power. That is all you need to know.”

Lyney’s brow furrowed slightly, waiting for more, but when none came, he pressed, “Aaaaand?”

Arlecchino’s gaze flicked to him for a brief moment, her expression unreadable. “And that is all.”

Lyney’s frown deepened, and after a short pause, he asked, “Where do we find one?”

“Why do you want to know?” she countered, her question sharp, her focus unwavering.

Lyney hesitated, then answered carefully, “For the mission, of course.”

Arlecchino studied him for a moment longer before speaking again. “Ancient names are titles given to the people of the tribes in Natlan. They are said to bestow what they call ‘Nightsoul blessings,’ enhancements to their strength. I suspect they grant more than that—perhaps even control.” Her gaze shifted, as if considering something far beyond the room they stood in.

“If my theory proves correct,” she continued, her voice still level, “it may present new... opportunities.”

Lynette, who had been watching silently, turned to Lyney with a barely perceptible nod—an unspoken plea to move the conversation forward.

Lyney’s voice was cautious. “Who exactly are we supposed to... take it from?”

Lynette’s facepalmed in frustration, her patience clearly wearing thin. “I mean—how are we supposed to take it?”

Arlecchino turned toward them with an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. There was no irritation in her gaze, only the same focused calm. “Ask about them. But remain unnoticed. I’ve hired an operative to escort you safely. Alert Freminet. He will join you.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the door. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor was sharp and final.

As she stepped into the hallway, her silhouette disappeared into the shadows, leaving the twins standing in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on them. The air felt heavier now, as if the room itself was still under her scrutiny.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sights in Natlan were mesmerizing, though their beauty was tinged with the weight of their mission. Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet sat at the edge of the Children of Echoes camp, the glowing Statue of the Seven behind them casting fiery orange light against the dark sky. The stars shimmered above, but their attention was drawn to the strange, fractured shape of the moon.

“What’s that?” Freminet asked, his tone thoughtful but wary as he pointed to the broken celestial body.

Lyney squinted, trying to make it out. “I have no idea. I already took my contacts out,” he muttered, flicking his lighter open and shut. The rhythmic clicks echoed softly in the stillness of the night.

Lynette turned to him, her usual composed demeanor showing the slightest edge of exasperation. “You took your contacts out *before* sitting on the edge of a cliff?” she teased, elbowing him gently.

Lyney smirked. “You know I’m nearsighted,” he said with a chuckle, casually tossing a pebble at her.

Around them, Natlan's untamed beauty unfolded. The bright green grass was flecked with colorful graffiti, bold strokes covering the surrounding cliffs in a chaotic, yet passionate expression. Towering saurians moved gracefully among the treetops, their powerful forms outlined against the moonlit sky. In the distance, the imposing stadium loomed through the mist, its jagged architecture a stark contrast to Fontaine’s symmetrical elegance.

Everything here was built with a raw intensity that Lyney couldn’t help but admire. Fontaine’s structures were sturdy and refined, its people immaculate in appearance, every detail polished to perfection. But Natlan? It thrived on fire, art, and emotion. Its people painted their walls with zeal, sang and danced through the mornings, and gathered around crackling fires at night to celebrate their passions.

“It’s different,” Lyney admitted, watching a distant flame flicker among the campfires below.

“Too different,” Freminet muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“At least it’s not so loud at night,” Lynette added, though the relief in her voice was clear.

“You two are so boring,” Lyney teased, tossing Freminet a bulle fruit. The younger boy caught it instinctively, but his fingers brushed against two thin files slipped beneath it. His brow furrowed as he looked down at the papers now resting on his knees.

Lyney stretched dramatically, yawning. “Well, I’m off to bed. Don’t stay up too late!” he announced, standing and turning in one fluid motion. Without waiting for a response, he hopped down the stairs leading back to the camp, disappearing into the shadows.

Freminet hesitated, then opened one of the files. His eyes scanned the contents briefly before he passed the other to Lynette. Wordlessly, she tucked it beneath her legs, her sharp ears flicking slightly.

Lynette leaned closer, her voice low and steady. “I think we’re being watched.” Freminet nodded, then they both departed.

A small rustle was heard in the bushes when they were both gone, a steady foot emerged, followed by a pair of ocelot ears.

Slowly, a figure emerged from the bushes, with deliberate steps, as if they knew this area well.

“They’re up to something.” Xilonen whispered.

Chapter Text

The first rays of sunlight painted the horizon as Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet gathered around a small table in the modest house Arlecchino had rented for them. Papers were spread across the surface, each one detailing potential “targets” for their mission.

“I’ve gathered enough intel from the locals to narrow down our options,” Lyney announced, flipping through the files with practiced precision. There were six names, but three were ruled out almost immediately.

“Kachina?” Lyney scoffed, setting the file aside. “She’s just a kid—off-limits.”
“Ororon?” Lynette added, skimming the details. “He’s got an overprotective grandmother who doesn’t seem afraid to make things messy.”
“Chasca?” Freminet glanced at the file before shaking his head. “Unless we’re planning for a quick funeral, no.”

That left three remaining candidates. Lyney tapped a finger on the first file: Xilonen. “The sleepy ocelot could work,” he mused, “but her sharp senses make her hard to outmaneuver. She’d spot us coming before we even got close.”

He moved to the next file: Mualani. “She’s a possibility,” he murmured, tapping the page thoughtfully. “Her outgoing personality makes her approachable, sure, but her web of connections? That’s a disaster waiting to happen. One misstep, and the whole village would be on us in no time.”

Finally, he slid the last file into focus: Kinich. His lips curled into a confident smirk. “Now, he’s the most viable option. A decent fighter—good, but not unbeatable. Swift on his feet, but he can be outmaneuvered with the right planning. He’s not the type to call for backup, either. Prefers to handle things alone.”

Freminet peered over Lyney’s shoulder. “And he’s easy to track,” he added quietly.

“Exactly,” Lyney said, leaning back in his chair. “Jack of all trades, master of none. If we play this smart, he’s our best shot.”

The trio exchanged a glance, the weight of their decision settling over the room as the morning light crept higher.

Within a day, they arrived at the Scions of Canopy. Perched atop a mountain overlooking the sprawling tribe, Lyney couldn’t help but feel a flicker of awe. The settlement clung to the mountainside, a web of wooden platforms and carved stone structures connected by narrow rope bridges. This tribe was renowned for their daring feats—extreme sports were part of their culture—and their most celebrated member, Kinich, was a skilled saurian hunter and fearless bungee jumper. It was through one of these stunts that Lyney planned to lure him out.

Lynette, however, wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure this is going to work? It’s… reckless,” she said, her voice tinged with doubt.

“I agree,” Freminet added, fidgeting with the straps of his diving helmet. “What if he doesn’t show up?”

“If he doesn’t show up, then I’ll just take the fall—literally.” Lyney smirked, brushing off their concerns. Though he made light of it, he had a backup plan ready to go.

“But—” Freminet started, but Lyney didn’t wait to hear him out. With a daring grin, he leapt off the cliff, letting himself free-fall into the abyss below.

The wind howled past him as he plummeted, his coat flaring like wings. Just as the ground seemed inevitable, a sudden force snapped around his ankles, yanking him back into the air. He shot upward in a dizzying arc before landing safely in someone’s arms.

Lyney looked up, his breath catching for a moment as he took in the face of his savior. Dark green hair fell around a sharp, sun-kissed face, a green bandana tied around his head. He wore a tight black shirt that hinted at his athletic build. This had to be Kinich.

“You should be more careful,” Kinich said, setting Lyney on his feet. His tone was even, but there was a flicker of irritation in his golden eyes. “I’m Kinich.”

Before Lyney could respond, a voice cut through the air. “CAN YOU NOT SEE WHERE YOU’RE GOING? FOOL!”

Lyney blinked in confusion as he spotted the source of the scolding—a pixel saurian was floating beside Kinich.

“That’s just Ajaw,” Kinich explained with a weary sigh. “He’s… my companion.”

“How DARE you reduce me to a mere companion?” Ajaw bellowed. “I AM THE ALMIGHTY DRAGON LORD AJAW! SHOW SOME RESPECT!”

Lyney stared at the pair, momentarily stunned, before his senses returned. The description had failed to capture just how stunning Kinich was—or how bizarre his circumstances might be. “Oh, uh, thank you for the save,” Lyney said, offering a disarming smile. “I’m Lyney.”

Kinich nodded curtly, still studying Lyney with suspicion. “What were you doing jumping off a cliff?”

“Just testing my luck,” Lyney quipped, adjusting his gloves. Then, with a touch of curiosity, he added, “How did you catch me so quickly? That was… impressive.”

Kinich hesitated before replying. “It’s thanks to my ancient name, Malipo.”

Lyney’s pulse quickened. “Can I see it?”

After a moment of deliberation, Kinich summoned the ancient name. A feather-like artifact appeared in his hand, smooth and black as obsidian, its glowing white engravings shimmering faintly. Lyney’s eyes locked on it. This was it—their goal.

He took a deep breath, weighing his options. Steal it and run? Risky. Take it subtly? Complicated. Lay it on thick and manipulate the situation? Perfect.

Lyney leaned in slightly, his voice dipping into a playful tone. “I can see why the wayob chose you. They must have an eye for talent.”

Kinich blinked, caught off guard by the sudden flattery. “Uh… thanks?” he said, stepping back slightly.

Seizing the moment, Lyney moved closer, resting a hand on Kinich’s shoulder. Kinich stiffened at the contact. Before he could react further, Lyney’s fingers traced lightly along Kinich’s jawline, distracting him just long enough.

With a flick of his wrist, Lyney pulled Kinich’s bandana down over his eyes, blinding him. In the same fluid motion, he snatched the ancient name and swept a leg under Kinich, sending him tumbling to the ground.

“HEY!” Kinich shouted, readjusting his bandana as he scrambled to his feet. He scanned the area, but Lyney was already gone, his figure disappearing into the dense forest.

Ajaw growled in frustration. “I WARNED YOU ABOUT TRUSTING STRANGERS!”

Kinich grit his teeth. “Did you see which way he went?”

“OBVIOUSLY NOT!” Ajaw snapped.

Kinich clenched his fists, a mix of anger and embarrassment flashing across his face. Nobody had gotten the best of him. Manipulation is the tactic of cowards. Whoever Lyney was, this wasn’t over.

—

Xilonen barked a laugh, loud and sharp in the quiet of the clearing. “You mean to tell me,” she chuckled, her voice carrying over the stillness, “that wimp I was watching, STOLE your ancient name?” She laughed harder, and the sound bounced off the surrounding trees, drawing curious glances from the nearby tribespeople. Kinich’s face remained calm, though a deep, undeniable ache spread through him. He felt the sting, but it wasn’t anger that simmered inside him—it was disappointment, both in himself and in the way things had turned out. He wasn’t sure what to do with it.

The pressure in his chest built, but he couldn’t bring himself to shout or lash out like some might have. Instead, he took a slow, steady breath, trying to ground himself, trying to push down the feeling that threatened to take over.

He couldn’t focus on Xilonen’s words, not really. They didn’t matter—not right now. But the humiliation stung like a hidden wound that had been opened up, unhealed.

Xilonen’s laughter continued, growing louder as she teased him, not seeing the tension in his face. “You let some idiot walk up and steal it from under your nose? That’s embarrassing, Kinich. I thought you were better than that.”

Kinich wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the loss of the name itself, or the feeling of being seen—really seen, and in that moment, it was clear that Xilonen had no respect for what had just happened to him. He had trusted himself, his instincts, and yet here he was—having failed in a way that felt so much bigger than just the name.

It was a quiet blow, one he wasn’t sure how to recover from, and it left him feeling exposed in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

Before he could even respond, the familiar voice of Chasca rang through the air. “EY, EY, EY! Who’s got the cool-headed Kinich all twisted up like this?”

Chasca stepped into view, her usual cheeky grin spread across her face. She seemed so carefree, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside him. Kinich didn’t look at her, not wanting to see the judgment or the pity in her eyes. Instead, he kept his gaze down, trying to ignore the small twinge of regret that lingered.

Xilonen, still amused, turned toward Chasca. “You won’t believe it, Chasca. That ‘cool-headed’ Kinich? He got played. Lost his ancient name, and not even a fight.” She snickered, shaking her head. “I’m telling you, he just let it happen.”

Chasca stopped just in front of him, her eyes softening for a moment as she studied his face. “You really let someone take it, Kinich?” Her tone wasn’t mocking, but there was concern in it, and it made him feel even smaller.

Kinich swallowed hard. “I... I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He had been too calm, too slow, and now everything felt like it had slipped out of his grasp.

Chasca seemed to sense his inner turmoil, but instead of pushing further, she placed a hand on his shoulder, a touch that grounded him for a moment. “Look, we’ll get it back. We’ll figure it out. But you can’t let this hold you down, alright? There’s no point in wallowing.”

Kinich nodded, though the sinking feeling in his chest didn’t go away. How had he let this happen? He had always prided himself on being level-headed, on thinking things through, but in this moment, it felt like that had betrayed him. His name, the one thing that had always been his, was gone. And there was nothing he could do to undo it.

As Xilonen laughed again, her voice far too loud, Kinich took another deep breath, trying to let it go. There wasn’t much point in staying mad. He wasn’t one to hold grudges. But the feeling of failure lingered like an unshakable weight.

“Don’t worry,” Chasca said with a softer smile. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re not alone in this.”

Kinich forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get to work,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside. “We’ll fix this. Together.”

Kinich nodded, but there was this strange feeling deep inside that he couldn't pinpoint.

He just wished he didn’t find Lyney so charming

Chapter Text

Lynette tilted her head, inspecting the ancient name with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “It looks... ominous,” she muttered, turning it over in her hands.

Lyney, lounging nearby, rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ominous? It’s boring. I can’t believe this—” he gestured dramatically at the ancient name—“is what ruined my chances with a cute guy.”

Lynette groaned and swatted his arm. “Tell that to Father. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear it.”

“I was joking, you buffoon,” Lyney snapped, shooting her an irritated glare.

“Knowing you, you probably weren’t.”

The way she said it made him freeze. Oh god, she was right. He couldn’t get Kinich’s face out of his mind—the piercing green eyes, the slight quirk of his lips, that damned bandana. Why did he have to be so attractive?

Lyney shook his head, trying to refocus. They were holed up in a small, abandoned cave not far from the stadium. It was clear it hadn’t been used in some time; spiderwebs clung to the corners, and the smell of damp earth lingered in the air. Crates and a long-cold campfire scattered the area, providing the barest hint of comfort. The firepit could only be used during the day—at night, it was too risky to give away their location.

Lynette, still examining the ancient name, broke the silence. “According to Father, we just have to sit tight until next week when she arrives in Natlan.”

Lyney groaned, leaning his head against the cold rock wall. “Why can’t we just leave now? The people of Natlan can’t follow us outside their borders, and we could be out of here in a day or two. It’s much safer! They must be on our trail by now.”

“I’m sure you can take that up with Father,” Lynette replied, her voice flat and bored.

Freminet, sitting quietly in the corner, piped up. “Maybe... maybe it’s because the ancient name can’t be used outside Natlan?”

Lyney glanced at him, considering the idea. “Could be,” he muttered. “Well, whatever the reason, we’ve got plenty of time to think about it.” He sighed heavily, his mind still far away, caught between frustration and distraction.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Lynette and Freminet decided to head out to scavenge for food. They returned hours later, the sky now blanketed in darkness. Their haul was decent—enough to last for a few days—but when they entered the cave, Lyney was gone.

Lynette’s sharp eyes quickly scanned the area, and her chest tightened when she spotted the note lying on a nearby crate. Freminet, already panicking, whispered harshly, “Did they find him? Did someone take him!?”

Lynette snatched up the note and read it aloud, her tone icy. “I’ll be back soon.” It was signed with Lyney’s usual flourish.

She crumpled the paper in her hand, growling under her breath. “That idiot.”

Freminet fidgeted nervously. “What if something happens to him?”

Lynette’s lips pressed into a tight line. “He better pray nothing does,” she muttered, stuffing the note into her pocket. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling curling in her stomach. Wherever Lyney had gone, she knew he was up to something reckless—and she had a sinking suspicion it had everything to do with him.

“Where do we even start looking?” Mualani asked, her gaze sweeping over the vast expanse of land stretching before them.

Xilonen crossed her arms, frowning in thought. “Well, they’d be avoiding The Children of Echoes and Scions of Canopy because of me and Kinich. Maybe they’re hiding with The Masters of Nightwind or The Collective of Plenty?”

Chasca shook her head firmly. “I’ve already informed Citlali and my tribe about the situation. They’re keeping a lookout. As for The Collective of Plenty, there’s no way they’d have had enough time to get there. We’ve got eyes everywhere.” She offered Kinich a reassuring smile, but he wasn’t paying attention. His focus lingered on the distant stadium, a shadow of concern flickering in his expression.

Mualani stepped in quickly, her tone bright but determined. “Kinich and I already alerted everyone in The People of Springs this morning. They’re not there.”

Chasca nodded, her expression sharpening. “That narrows it down. They’re either in the valley or near the stadium.” She clapped her hands decisively. “Kinich!”

He jolted at the sound of his name, snapping his attention back to her.

“You and Xilonen know this terrain better than anyone,” she said, gesturing toward the sprawling valley. “You two take that area. Mualani and I will check around the stadium. Sound good?”

Mualani threw her hand up in a playful salute. “You got it, boss!”

Xilonen gave a curt nod. “Let’s move.”

“Alright,” Kinich said, his voice calm as usual. “We’ll meet back here later.”

When they were far enough that the others couldn’t hear, Xilonen broke the silence, a sly smirk creeping onto her face. “So, ready to go, lover boy?”

Kinich blinked, startled. “W-what? Loverboy? What are you even talking about?” he stammered, his usual calm demeanor cracking.

“Oh, come on,” Xilonen teased, her grin widening. “I saw that whole interaction between you two.”

Kinich’s face heated, and he quickly deflected, his voice firm. “Did you see where he went, then?”

She snorted, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to change the subject. “I tried to follow him, but he disappeared like smoke in the wind. Sorry, Kinich.” She softened, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Kinich let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. “It’s fine,” he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the horizon.

“Hey,” Xilonen said, her tone more gentle now. “We’ll find him. You’ll get your ancient name back. And... maybe something else while we’re at it.” She winked.

Kinich didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened as they continued forward, his thoughts heavy and conflicted.

Chapter Text

Xilonen darted effortlessly through the treetops, her skates trailing faint streaks of phlogistine light as they propelled her forward. She zipped between branches with precision, her gaze darting toward the mountain peaks, ever vigilant. Kinich followed close behind, his movements steady and deliberate as he swung between sturdy branches, scanning the forest floor below with sharp, focused eyes.

But his mind wasn’t as steady as his movements. Thoughts clawed at him, unrelenting, slowing his pace. Xilonen, noticing his lagging, pushed ahead, her energy undeterred. Kinich barely noticed; he was caught up in a swirl of frustration, doubt, and something deeper—something he didn’t want to name.

Just as he reached for another branch, a voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the quiet.

“All this effort just to look for me? I have to admit, I’m flattered, mon cher.”

Kinich froze mid-swing, his heart stuttering in his chest. He let himself drop lightly onto a sturdy branch, spinning around to face the source.

“Am I going crazy?” he muttered under his breath, his sharp eyes scanning the dense canopy around him.

From behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree, a figure stepped into view, shadowed by the dappled light filtering through the leaves. Lyney. His confident smirk was unmistakable, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You’re not imagining things,” Lyney said, tipping his hat slightly. “Though I’m sure I’d haunt your thoughts even if I weren’t here.”

Kinich’s breath hitched for a moment before he clenched his jaw, regaining his composure. “You’re bold, showing up like this.” His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension, a mix of irritation and... something else.

Lyney leaned casually against the tree trunk, twirling a coin between his gloved fingers. “Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it? I did leave quite the impression on you, after all.”

Kinich narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “You stole something important from me.”

“Oh, you mean this?” Lyney said, holding up the ancient name. Its smooth obsidian surface shimmered faintly with glowing white engravings. “You know, it’s quite fascinating. So much history, so much power... and yet, here it is, fitting so snugly in my pocket.”

Kinich’s fists tightened, but he held his ground, his voice steady. “Give it back.”

Lyney tilted his head, feigning consideration. “Hmm... tempting. But I think I’ll hold onto it for a little while longer.” He smiled slyly. “Unless, of course, you can convince me otherwise.”

Kinich took another step forward, the branch creaking slightly under his weight. “What do you want, Lyney? Why are you here?”

Lyney’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by something softer—almost vulnerable. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again,” he said lightly, but his voice carried an edge of sincerity that surprised even himself.

Kinich blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. But before he could say anything, Xilonen’s voice called out from somewhere above.

“Kinich! What’s going on back there?”

Lyney straightened, the playful smirk returning in full force. “Well, that’s my cue.” He tossed the ancient name into the air, catching it deftly before tucking it back into his pocket. “See you around, mon cher.”

With a graceful leap, Lyney disappeared into the dense canopy, leaving only the faint sound of rustling leaves in his wake.

Kinich stared after him, his chest tight. He should have gone after him—should have taken back what was his. But for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, his feet refused to move.

Xilonen landed on a branch beside him, frowning as she looked around. “What happened? I thought I heard voices.”

“It’s nothing,” Kinich said quickly, his voice more curt than he intended. “Let’s keep moving.”

Xilonen gave him a skeptical look but shrugged it off, skating ahead once more.

Kinich lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the spot where Lyney had vanished. His fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt, where his heart was pounding harder than it should have been.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to move, leaping to the next branch. But as they continued their search, he couldn’t shake the memory of Lyney’s voice—or the way it had stirred something deep within him that he wasn’t ready to face.

Lyney watched from the shadows, his eyes fixed on Kinich as he swung through the branches with effortless grace. He was pleased to see that his words had left an impression. Kinich’s every movement seemed to betray a hint of hesitation, something Lyney took pride in. He had managed to get under the other man’s skin, and that was a small victory in itself.

Despite the thrill of the chase, Lyney’s mind kept returning to his siblings. He couldn’t help but worry about their safety, though he was certain they’d be fine. He just had to focus. His claws dug into the treetops as he steadied himself, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. Lyney had always been adept at remaining unnoticed, and this time, he planned to take full advantage of that.

With a quick surge, he propelled himself forward, moving faster than the others could react. He easily outpaced them, his body blending seamlessly into the canopy above as he darted between the branches.

As the edge of a cliff came into view, Lyney slowed, letting himself drift to the side. He perched at the very tip, his legs dangling freely, the cool wind brushing past his face. He sat there, comfortably, as if he had all the time in the world. He knew they’d catch up soon enough.

Sure enough, he soon heard the heavy, deliberate footsteps of Kinich approaching. Lyney smiled, his lips curling slightly as he leaned back on his hands.

“I’ve been waiting,” he teased, his voice light but carrying a hint of mockery. “Gosh, you take so long.”

Kinich stopped just a few feet from him, crossing his arms with an air of skepticism. “Why did you even take it?” His voice was steady, though there was an edge to his tone, a hint of frustration.

Lyney stood and turned around to face him, taking a single step forward. Kinich instinctively took a step back, clearly uneasy. Lyney’s grin widened as he caught the movement.

“Maybe I just wanted to get your attention,” he said, his voice low and flirtatious, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Quit it, magic man,” Xilonen interjected, skating up to them with her usual flair. “Stop trying to get into his head—metaphorically and literally.”

Kinich shot Xilonen a glance, an unspoken exchange passing between them. He rolled his eyes, then lightly hit her arm. “Ow! I’m sorry!” she said with exaggerated mock hurt, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lyney chuckled softly at the banter, but his eyes never left Kinich. There was something about the way the other man hesitated, something deeper than just a reluctance to engage. Lyney could see the internal struggle, the battle between his better judgment and the pull Lyney had on him.

The moment stretched out, and Lyney couldn’t resist pressing the point just a little further. He moved closer to Kinich, his presence almost too close to ignore. “What’s the matter, Kinich?” he purred, leaning in slightly. “Afraid I might actually get to you?”

Kinich stiffened but didn’t respond. Lyney’s smirk deepened as he watched the conflict flicker across Kinich’s expression. He knew he had him now—whether Kinich admitted it or not, he was already tangled in Lyney’s web.

But before Lyney could take things any further, the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. His smirk faltered slightly, and he turned his gaze toward the sound.

Chasca came charging through the trees, riding her gun like a lightning bolt. Lyney’s quick instincts kicked in, and with a swift roll, he ducked just as the gun whizzed past him. The gust of wind from the weapon left a trail in the air, but Lyney was already moving, his claws digging into the treetops as he pushed himself forward.

Chasca landed nimbly on the ground, her eyes locking onto him with a dangerous intensity. She took a moment to size him up, her gaze cold as she scanned him from head to toe. “Is this the guy?” she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. “He looks…” She narrowed her eyes and then smirked, “Underwhelming.”

Lyney flashed her a charming grin, pretending to be hurt. “Oh, I'm wounded, Kinich. Are you really going to let her talk to me like that?” His voice was playful, but his eyes never left the two of them. He knew they weren’t here for small talk.

Kinich, still a few paces away, crossed his arms and scoffed. “Why would I defend you? You stole from me,” he said, voice cold and unwavering.

Lyney tilted his head in mock surprise. “Oh, come on, I thought we had something special,” he teased, but his tone sharpened slightly. “Guess not.” His gaze flicked to Xilonen, who was lurking just behind Kinich. “You know, Kinich’s been really quiet lately. Maybe he’s in loooooove?”

Xilonen let out a snicker, but Kinich snapped at her, his patience running thin. “NOT. HELPING.” His voice was laced with irritation as he glared at her, his hands tightening at his sides. He was on edge, trying to maintain control, but it was clear that this was far from a friendly encounter.

Lyney grinned, the playful edge to his demeanor still intact, but his eyes darted around, assessing the terrain. The tension was thick, and he could sense they were closing in on him. “Well, as much fun as this little reunion is,” he said, his voice still light, though there was an undercurrent of seriousness now, “I think it's time for me to take my leave.”

Without warning, Lyney surged forward, disappearing into the trees, his form blending into the shadows. His movements were swift and calculated.

Kinich’s eyes narrowed as he watched Lyney continue his escape, disappearing into the treeline below. The tension in his chest surged, every fiber of his being screaming for him to follow, to catch him, and end this chase once and for all. He couldn’t afford to lose Lyney now.

He was about to surge forward when Xilonen’s rough hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him mid-motion. “He wants you to follow him,” she said, her voice low but firm, her face set in a serious expression.

Kinich shoved her hand off, frustration boiling over. “I’m not letting him get away,” he snarled, his voice tight with urgency.

Before Xilonen could respond, Kinich threw himself over the edge of the cliff, his heart pounding as he plunged downward. His phlogiston grapples shot out, catching the rock face and slowing his fall just enough to stay in pursuit of his quarry. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made his focus razor-sharp as he closed the gap.

Xilonen growled in irritation, watching Kinich launch himself into the drop. “He’s too reckless,” she muttered to herself before turning to Chasca, who was already re-mounting her gun, preparing to follow.

“After him!” Xilonen barked, her eyes flashing with determination as she kicked off the ground and skated ahead, making use of the mountain’s natural slopes.

Chasca sighed, giving one last glance at Xilonen before reactivating her weapon, propelling herself forward with a speed that mirrored the urgency in her own movements. The air whooshed around her as she hurtled through the mountain terrain, steadily catching up.

Kinich, meanwhile, was focused only on Lyney’s disappearing figure. His grapple hooks dug into the cliffside as he adjusted his descent, each moment bringing him closer to the thief, but Lyney was fast, expertly using the landscape to his advantage. The closer he got, the further Lyney seemed to pull ahead.

Suddenly, he heard a faint sound—a rustling in the trees. Lyney. He had made a sharp turn, vanishing around the bend, but Kinich was determined to keep pace. His phlogiston grapple whizzed out again, and he twisted his body mid-air, angling himself toward the sound of Lyney’s movements.

Xilonen was not far behind, skating effortlessly across the rocky surface, her eyes scanning for any sign of movement, waiting for Kinich to make the first move. Chasca, closer now, readied her gun, though it was clear to both women that the chances of catching Lyney were slim unless they acted fast.

“Don’t let him get away, Kinich!” Xilonen shouted, pushing herself harder, but her voice barely reached him over the sound of wind rushing by as he rocketed downward.

With a burst of speed, Kinich launched himself forward one last time, his muscles straining against the pull of gravity. He could see Lyney’s silhouette against the horizon, almost within reach. He focused on the prize in front of him, pushing his body to its limits.

Then, in a heartbeat, Lyney vanished.

Kinich skidded to a halt just at the edge of the cliff, staring in disbelief. Below him, the forest stretched out endlessly, but Lyney was nowhere to be seen. His heart skipped a beat.

“Where is he?” Kinich growled, his eyes scanning frantically, but there was no sign of the thief. The chase had ended, but Lyney was gone.

Behind him, Xilonen came to a halt, her skates screeching as she slid to a stop. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” she said, her voice laced with frustration.

Kinich clenched his fists, teeth grinding. “He’s too quick. He planned this.”

Chasca pulled up beside them, her face hard with disappointment. “This isn’t over. We’ll track him down again. But for now, we’re too late.”

Xilonen's eyes lit up with a sudden realization. “Track him!” she exclaimed. “He had a vision— a pyro one! Maybe Mavuika can track him!”

Chasca, always quick to catch on, nodded in eager agreement. "Then he won’t be able to run away," she muttered, glancing at Kinich. His expression was unreadable, but he gave a subtle nod, signaling his agreement.

They all turned to face the looming structure ahead: the stadium, the home of the Pyro Archon. It was vast and imposing, the center of all pyro-related activities. Kinich stared at it for a long moment, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“Maybe we can finally get this over with," he muttered under his breath, his gaze still on the distant stadium. "And I won’t have to think about him anymore.”

Chasca, who had heard his muttering, tilted her head slightly. “Let’s regroup with Mualani, then we can go,” she suggested, pulling Kinich out of his thoughts.

The three of them activated their respective transportation methods, with Xilonen skating off the edge of the cliff, gliding gracefully toward the mountain path. Kinich followed close behind, phlogistine grapples pulling him forward, while Chasca rode her gun at a lightning-fast pace, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon.

---

Meanwhile, Lyney was hidden in the shadows, watching them as they sped off. His eyes narrowed as he took in their movements. He had been sure they were getting close, but now, with Mavuika's tracking powers in play, things had changed.

“That could be an issue,” he muttered to himself, brow furrowed. He pushed off from his hiding spot, moving swiftly through the underbrush to catch up, though he stayed well out of sight. He knew he couldn’t afford to get caught now— not with so much at stake.

Chapter Text

Lynette had been receiving sporadic notes from Lyney over the past few days, each one a brief reassurance that he was still alive. How he managed to feed himself remained a mystery. But the note she received that morning left her deeply unsettled.

---

Dear Lynette,
It seems I’ve run into a bit of trouble—they’re tracking me through my vision. This will likely be the last note I can send for now.

On a brighter note, here’s what I’ve learned:

Our entire mission was for nothing. Ancient Names can only be wielded by those who are specifically blessed to receive them. Their only purpose is to enhance the power of a vision holder. For anyone else, they’re utterly useless.

I’ll return soon, so don’t fret. Toodles!

Yours,
Lyney

---

Lynette stared at the note, rereading the message twice before flipping it over, hoping for more. But the blank backside mocked her. Her jaw tightened as a slow, simmering anger bubbled to the surface.

"That's it?!" she snapped, her tail flicking in irritation.

Freminet, sitting nearby, looked up with alarm. "What happened?"

Wordlessly, Lynette thrust the note toward him. He scanned the paper quickly, his brow furrowing with concern. "That’s… not good," he said cautiously.

"YOU THINK?!" Lynette growled, pacing back and forth. "This entire mess, all for something completely useless!"

Freminet frowned, folding the note carefully. “Should we try to look for him?”

Lynette paused mid-step, her ears twitching. She let out a long sigh, shaking her head. “I know him too well. He won’t let us find him—he’s always one step ahead.”

She crossed her arms and gazed out of the cave they had been hiding in, worry creeping into her voice despite her frustration. “All we can do now is wait… and hope he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Mavuika stood at the window, her gaze fixed on the bustling world outside, when a sharp knock echoed through the room. She straightened her posture and inhaled deeply, turning toward the door. “Come in,” she called.

The door creaked open, revealing Xilonen, followed closely by Kinich, Mualani, Chasca. The tension on their faces was palpable.

Mavuika tilted her head, her expression turning curious. “Oh? What’s got you all so ruffled?” she asked, glancing over the group.

“Archon,” Xilonen began, her voice tinged with unease.

“Xilonen, my friend,” Mavuika interrupted with a light laugh, waving her hand dismissively. “No need for formalities. Just Mavuika will do.”

Xilonen hesitated before continuing, “We’re trying to track someone…” She trailed off, glancing at Kinich, who subtly shook his head. “A person,” she finished, her tone less certain.

Mavuika’s lighthearted demeanor shifted as she straightened her posture. “And how can I help?”

“He has a Pyro vision,” Xilonen explained, her voice faltering slightly. “We were wondering if there’s any way you could track him for us.”

Mavuika shook her head with a faint smile, though her eyes softened with sympathy. “When an Archon grants a vision, it’s not like marking a map. We don’t know who receives it, let alone where they might be.”

A heavy sigh escaped Xilonen as she lowered her gaze, disappointment evident. “Thanks anyway,” she murmured, her tone resigned.

The group gave polite nods as they turned to leave. Mavuika waved them off warmly, but the unease on her face lingered as the door clicked shut.

The silence that followed was oppressive. She stood still for a moment, her fingers drumming lightly on her arm. Her eyes flicked around the room, and an unshakable sense of being watched crept over her.

“I know you’re here,” she said aloud, her voice echoing through the chamber.

No response.

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though her instincts were still on high alert. Just as she turned back to the window, a soft creak pierced the quiet. Her head snapped toward the sound.

The door was ajar—just slightly.

Mavuika’s gaze hardened as she stepped toward it. "Clever," she murmured under her breath

As Xilonen stepped outside, she stretched dramatically, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Ugh, I used up way too much energy without resting. I’m calling it a night.” She activated her phlogiston-powered skates with a sharp whir and glided off into the distance, her figure soon disappearing into the shadows.

Chasca placed a reassuring hand on Kinich’s shoulder, her expression tinged with regret. “I’m sorry we couldn’t track him down,” she said softly. Without waiting for a reply, she mounted her gun and hovered into the air. “I’ll see you later!” she called over her shoulder, the sound of her departure fading into the night.

Ajaw, who had been unusually quiet up until now, suddenly flickered into his pixelated form beside Kinich. “FINALLLYYYYYY!” he groaned in an exaggerated whine.

Kinich gave him a sideways glance but said nothing as Mualani descended the stairs with a light bounce in her step. She paused, looking back at him. “Do you need anything else?” she asked, her tone warm but casual.

Kinich shook his head. “No. Thanks.”

Mualani gave a small wave, her figure disappearing into the canopy as she left. Now, Kinich was truly alone—except for Ajaw.

As Kinich trudged toward the Scions of Canopy’s settlement, his exhaustion was overwhelming. Each step felt heavier than the last. Mentally and physically drained, he couldn’t shake the weight of frustration. They had come so close, only for Lyney to slip through their grasp yet again.

As Kinich trudged toward the Scions of Canopy, his exhaustion weighed heavily on him. His mind felt hazy, the chase for Lyney having drained both his body and his thoughts. But as always, Ajaw wasn’t going to let him have a moment’s peace.

Out of nowhere, the pixelated form of Ajaw zipped in front of Kinich, his voice suddenly booming louder than ever.

“Oh, look at you,” Ajaw shouted, his digital form flashing in rapid, noisy bursts. “Wandering around like a lost puppy. What’s the matter, Kinich? Tired of chasing the oh-so-elusive Lyney? Did you think it would be this easy? Guess what? It wasn't, huh?”

Kinich gritted his teeth, trying to ignore him, but Ajaw wasn't about to let that happen. He darted ahead, blocking his path with a loud, obnoxious laugh.

“Did you really think you could catch him? I mean, really? You, of all people?” Ajaw's voice boomed like a drum, echoing off the trees. “You’re chasing a ghost, buddy! He’s probably sitting back and laughing at how easy it is to toy with you.”

Kinich squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay calm. But Ajaw wasn't backing off. In fact, he was amplifying his annoying presence.

“Oh, I know!” Ajaw continued, his voice now so loud it seemed to vibrate the air. “You’re just gonna keep running around, thinking it’s all part of the plan, right? Maybe if you squint hard enough, you’ll magically catch up. Hah! Keep dreaming! You couldn’t catch a cold with all that fancy training of yours!”

Kinich’s jaw clenched, his pulse racing. He stopped, took a deep breath, and turned to face the annoyingly persistent voice. “I don’t need your help, Ajaw.”

Ajaw cackled loudly, his voice booming again as he darted back and forth in front of Kinich, flitting like an irritating fly. “Oh, really? You don’t need my help?” he said with a sneer, his tone escalating to a near-deafening volume. “Maybe you don’t, but I bet Lyney would find you pretty useless right about now! I mean, look at you! You're still so far behind it’s laughable!"

Kinich could feel his patience eroding with every word. "Shut up," he growled, trying to move past, but Ajaw zipped right in front of him again, louder than ever.

“Shut up? Me? Oh, I will not be silenced,” Ajaw shouted, practically laughing in Kinich's face. “You’re in over your head, Kinich! You thought you were some hero, huh? Thought you had it all figured out? Well, guess what? You're losing! You’re gonna be chasing nothing while I’m here, pointing out all the ways you’ve messed up!”

Kinich clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he tried to push past the constant noise. But Ajaw wasn't done yet. He hovered just a foot from Kinich’s face, his voice now a shrill, echoing scream.

“COME ON, KINICH!” Ajaw shrieked, his pixel form flaring wildly. “You’re already outclassed by a thief! Don’t you see it? He’s playing you like a fiddle, and you’re just too stubborn to realize it!”

Kinich finally snapped, unable to take another second of Ajaw’s torment. He whirled around, glaring at the obnoxious form.

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Kinich roared, his voice finally matching the intensity of Ajaw's.

Ajaw faltered for a moment, seemingly taken aback by the force of Kinich's anger. Then, just as quickly, he cackled once more, his laughter piercing the silence. "Oh, there it is! Now that is the Kinich I know. You're just mad because I’m right!"

Kinich turned away, not wanting to give in to the anger swirling inside him. But Ajaw’s voice didn’t fade; it only got louder, following him as he walked toward the settlement.

“Good luck, hero!” Ajaw bellowed. “You’re gonna need it!”

Chapter Text

Lyney lingered in the shadows, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him as he watched the others interact. Every quiet moment he spent observing them felt like an eternity, each passing second a reminder of the fractured bond between him and Kinich. He couldn’t shake the image of Kinich’s face from that night—the disappointment, the anger, the confusion. It gnawed at him.

He had always been good at hiding his emotions, putting on a mask of bravado and charm when needed. But now, as he silently followed them from a distance, it felt like the mask was slipping. He had convinced himself that his actions, his decisions, were justified—that the ancient name had been a means to an end, that it had been the only way to survive. But now, he was beginning to see it differently. His heart felt heavy with the realization that he had been selfish, that his actions had caused more harm than he had ever intended.

Watching Kinich, so focused and composed, his unwavering loyalty to the group, made Lyney feel like an outsider. Kinich had always been the steady force, the one who kept everyone grounded. Lyney, on the other hand, had always been the one who stirred things up, who took risks without thinking of the consequences. And now, he was the one who had to face the consequences of his own impulsive decisions.

He wanted to apologize, to reach out and fix what he had broken, but the fear of rejection paralyzed him. What if Kinich had moved on? What if he truly wanted nothing to do with him anymore? Lyney’s mind spiraled with these thoughts, the self-doubt creeping in and making it harder to breathe. He had never felt so vulnerable, so unsure of himself. He could still remember the way Kinich had looked at him the last time they spoke—there was something in his eyes, something that made Lyney feel like he wasn’t the person Kinich thought he was.

He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to shake off the frustration and confusion. His feelings for Kinich had always been complicated, a mixture of admiration, affection, and something deeper he hadn’t fully understood until now. But now, all of that felt like it had been tainted by his mistakes.

For the first time in a long while, Lyney didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a plan, a trick, or a clever line to make everything right. He just had this aching desire to make amends, to rebuild the trust he had shattered. But was it too late? Would Kinich ever look at him the same way again?

He sighed loudly, looking out over the edge of the Scions Of Canopy.

—

Kinich stepped out into the morning light, stretching his arms and letting out a loud yawn. “YOU YAWN SO LOUDLY!” Ajaw complained from nearby. “SOME OF US ARE STILL TRYING TO WAKE UP PEACEFULLY!” Kinich rolled his eyes, glancing over at the bustling tribe. The morning energy was always palpable, people going about their business with a sense of purpose.

Suddenly, someone pushed through the crowd and called out his name. “Kinich!” the messenger shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. “I’ve got a message for you from the Pyro Archon!”

Kinich scanned the messenger quickly, his gaze sharp and cautious. He was always skeptical of anyone bringing news, but this messenger was familiar. “Let’s hear it,” Kinich said, his tone calm but alert.

The messenger walked up, his expression serious. “The Pyro Archon wants to meet you at the stadium. She says she’s found a way to track the person you’re looking for.”

Kinich’s interest piqued, his posture straightening. “When?” he asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

“Uhh... now?” the messenger replied, slightly uncertain. “A message was sent to the other heroes too.”

Kinich nodded in acknowledgment. “Thank you.” With that, he turned and immediately set off towards the stadium, his mind racing with the possibility that this could be the break they needed.

Kinich made his way through the tribe, his mind focused as he moved with purpose. The familiar paths felt almost distant this morning, his thoughts consumed with the message from the Pyro Archon. The stadium loomed ahead in the distance, its silhouette cutting sharply against the rising sun.

As he walked, the sounds of the tribe seemed muffled, replaced by the steady rhythm of his footsteps. The chatter of merchants, children playing, and distant calls of the birds overhead faded into the background. His mind kept racing, wondering what this new lead might bring. Could they finally be one step closer to finding Lyney?

The air grew warmer as he moved towards the open area outside the stadium, the heat of the day beginning to rise. The crowds grew thinner as he neared the entrance, and a quiet anticipation hung in the air. Kinich quickened his pace, eager to find out what the Archon had discovered—and what it could mean for his pursuit of Lyney.

Kinich opened the door to the Speaker's Chamber, stepping inside and recognizing Xilonen, Chasca, and Mualani, who were already gathered. “Kinich!” Mavuika greeted him cheerfully, her voice light with amusement. “Took you long enough!” she chuckled.

“Uh, sorry about that,” Kinich replied, offering an apologetic smile.

“No need for apologies. Let's cut to the chase,” Mavuika said, gesturing for him to come closer. “While thinking over your dilemma, I remembered an ancient ritual from the Masters of the Night Wind. It allows someone to track their ancient name.”

Kinich’s attention sharpened as he looked up. “And Citlali knows how to perform it?”

Mavuika nodded. “Yes, luckily, it's not lost to time. The ritual is still known, but there’s a catch.” Before Kinich could respond, she raised a hand to silence him.

“It requires a great deal of energy from the person performing it,” she continued. “And it temporarily disables your Nightsoul abilities.”

Kinich’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment as he considered the implications. “Still,” he said slowly, “getting my ancient name is a priority.”

Xilonen’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “Kinich, are you serious?” she asked, her voice rising with frustration. “You’re willing to risk performing a dangerous ritual just to catch some petty thief?”

Kinich exhaled calmly, maintaining his composure despite the intensity of her words. “It’s my ancient name, Xilonen,” he said, his voice firm yet controlled.

Xilonen’s expression shifted between concern and anger, her frustration evident as she crossed her arms tightly. With a heavy sigh, she muttered, “Whatever.”

Mavuika studied the exchange between Kinich and Xilonen with a knowing gaze. She could sense the tension, the unspoken thoughts between them. With a small sigh, she broke the silence.

“Look,” Mavuika said, her voice softening, “I understand the risks. But this is the only way to track them. If you’re serious about finding him and getting answers, this ritual might be your best shot.”

Kinich nodded slowly, his mind still processing. The thought of losing access to his Nightsoul abilities was concerning, but the need to retrieve his ancient name outweighed his hesitations.

“I’ll do it,” he said, his tone resolute.

Xilonen shot him a sharp look, her jaw tightening. “I’m not convinced this is the best way,” she muttered, clearly torn between wanting to support him and her own instincts telling her to hold back.

Chasca, who had been unusually quiet until now, spoke up, her voice steady and pragmatic. “Sometimes we have to take risks, Xilonen. We won’t catch him if we don’t act.”

Xilonen scowled but didn’t argue. She clearly wasn’t happy with the decision, but she wasn’t about to drag her heels either.

Mavuika nodded, sensing that the decision had been made. “I’ll send word to Citlali,” she said. “You’ll need to rest beforehand, Kinich. It’s draining, and you’ll need every ounce of strength you can muster.”

Kinich’s mind was already racing, his thoughts flickering between his past and the consequences of using the ritual. Yet, his resolve remained unshaken. This was his chance to finally gain control over his ancient name—and perhaps, more importantly, to close a chapter in his life that had long been left unresolved.

As the others made their preparations, Kinich found himself standing by the window, his eyes lost in the horizon. The day was bright, but the weight of the decision hung over him like a storm cloud. He wasn’t sure what would come after the ritual, but he knew it was the only way forward.

“Kinich…” Xilonen’s voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. She stood a few steps away, her expression unreadable.

He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers.

“I’m not happy about this,” she said quietly, her tone softer than before. “But I’m with you, no matter what happens.”

Kinich gave her a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Xilonen.”

She nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment before she turned away, her face hardening once again. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Chapter Text

The short journey to Citlali's tribe was proving to be more of a test of Kinich's patience than anything else. The mountain paths twisted and turned, the foliage thick and humid, but nothing slowed Kinich's determined pace. He was laser-focused, his sights set on reaching the tribe and performing the ritual without delay.

“We should rest here for a moment,” Xilonen announced abruptly, her skates gliding to a halt as she gestured toward a shaded clearing.

Kinich stopped mid-stride, spinning around with an incredulous expression. “Rest? Again? We’ve only been walking for—what, fifteen minutes?!”

Mualani hopped onto a fallen log and stretched dramatically, smirking at him. “Fifteen minutes of your pace, which is basically a sprint.”

Xilonen raised an eyebrow, her calm demeanor unshaken. “Kinich, you’re going to burn yourself out. You’ve been tense since we left. You need the energy for the ritual.”

“I’m fine,” Kinich snapped, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his irritation. “Lyney isn’t sitting around taking breaks. He’s getting further away.”

Xilonen skated closer, crossing her arms as she gave him a pointed look. “And if you collapse halfway through the ritual, then what? You’ll have wasted all this effort, and Lyney will still win.”

Kinich clenched his jaw, glancing away to avoid her piercing gaze. He knew she had a point, but the thought of slowing down grated on him.

Mualani tossed a water flask at him, forcing him to catch it. “Come on, hotshot. Hydrate. Pretend you’re listening to reason for once.”

Kinich sighed, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, though his annoyance was evident in every movement.

Xilonen leaned against a tree beside him, her voice softening. “Look, I get it. You’re frustrated, and you want to get this over with. But you’re not just running after Lyney anymore—you’re putting yourself through something dangerous. Trust us to pace this right. We all want the same thing.”

Kinich stayed silent for a moment, his knuckles white against the flask. Finally, he exhaled and gave a reluctant nod. “Fine. Five minutes.”

“Ten,” Xilonen countered, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

He rolled his eyes but sat down on a flat rock, his frustration simmering as he watched the others chat casually or stretch.

“Why are you trying to find this guy so quickly?” Mualani said, curiosity laced in her voice. “Seems like you can’t catch a break with this guy running around.

Kinich shrugged. “I just want to tackle problems as soon as possible.” He said.

Xilonen shoved Mualais shoulders and audibly whispered. “He's a bit in love. He can’t STAND someone one-upping him” They both snickered like teenagers.

The breaks continued intermittently, much to Kinich’s displeasure, but by the time the jagged spires of Citlali’s village came into view, the group was in much better spirits—and Kinich begrudgingly admitted that he didn’t feel as worn out as he had expected.

The intricate carvings on the towering structures reflected the late afternoon sun, the tribal settlement bustling with quiet activity. Kinich felt a surge of anticipation in his chest, the reality of the ritual now imminent.

As they approached the village’s edge, Xilonen nudged him gently. “See? Told you a little rest wouldn’t kill you.”

Kinich gave her a side glance, his lips twitching in what might have been the start of a smirk, though he quickly masked it. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As they crossed the creaking wooden bridge leading to the tribe, Xilonen placed her hands on her hips, surveying the bustling scene. “Maybe we should ask Ororon where Citlali is,” she suggested, pointing toward a familiar figure standing near the market stalls.

Ororon caught sight of them and waved, striding over with his usual relaxed demeanor. “Hey, guys,” he greeted, his tone friendly as always.

“Ororon!” Xilonen called back, a hint of relief in her voice. “Perfect timing. We were just talking about your grandma. Any chance you’ve seen her recently?” She kept her tone casual, though her eagerness was clear.

Ororon tilted his head thoughtfully, then gestured behind him. “Yeah, she’s over there,” he said, nodding toward a cluster of market stalls.

Sure enough, Citlali was standing near a display of books, her fingers idly brushing the spines as she browsed. Sensing their gaze, she looked up, her sharp eyes meeting theirs with curiosity.

"About time you guys checked in on me!" Citlali exclaimed, striding up to them with an exaggerated air of offense. She turned her head sharply, as if genuinely hurt.

“We have a big ask for you,” Chasca began, her tone direct but respectful.

Citlali's playful expression shifted to something more serious. Her sharp eyes flicked over the group. "A big ask, huh?" she echoed, folding her arms.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Ororon interjected, sensing the gravity of the conversation. He gave them a brief nod before strolling away.

“Mavuika mentioned a ritual to locate an ancient name,” Chasca explained.

Citlali froze, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Yes... I know it. But it’s not something I’d recommend lightly,” she said, her words slower now, weighted with concern. “It’s dangerous—no, more than dangerous. It’s reckless.” She studied each of their faces, her gaze suspicious. “So tell me, which one of you has managed to lose their ancient name?”

Her gaze narrowed as she scanned the group, her sharp intuition kicking in. When all eyes shifted to Kinich, she focused on him.

“It’s not like I wanted this to happen,” Kinich snapped, his tone defensive.

Citlali’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing again in disbelief. “How in the stars does someone lose their ancient name? Do you even realize what that means?”

Kinich muttered, the irritation in his voice barely concealed. “That’s why we’re here—to fix it.”

Citlali studied him in silence for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke. “This isn’t something to take lightly. The ritual isn’t just risky—it’s grueling. It’ll take a toll on your body, your mind... and even your nightsoul.”

Kinich straightened, his voice firm. “I’m ready.”

Citlali shook her head. “Being ready isn’t enough. There are forces you don’t understand involved here. And once we start, there’s no turning back. Are you sure this is worth it?”

“It’s worth it,” Kinich said with determination.

Xilonen stepped forward, placing a hand on Kinich’s shoulder. “We’re here to help him. Whatever it takes.”

Citlali let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. “Fine. I’ll help you,” she said at last. “But I’ll need time to prepare. Meet me at the obsidian totem at sunset. And don’t even think about being late.”

With that, she turned and walked away, muttering under her breath about reckless young heroes. The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the task ahead settling over them like a heavy cloud.

As the last light of the day faded, the flickering torchlight inside the cave cast long shadows across the stone walls. The group stood in a loose circle, all eyes on Citlali, who had just finished drawing the intricate chalk symbols. Kinich, still feeling the remnants of the earlier ritual, couldn’t shake the tension building in the air. It felt like something was about to happen, but the quiet only made the weight of the moment more unbearable.

Mualani broke the silence first, her voice edged with confusion. "Where are all the tribespeople?" she asked, her gaze sweeping the cave's entrance as if expecting them to walk in at any moment.

Ajaw, ever the loud one, scoffed. "Obviously, they were shooed away!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in exaggerated exasperation. "There’s an *ANCIENT RITUAL* going on!" His voice echoed off the cave walls, making it sound almost comical, but there was no denying the gravity of the situation.

The only other figure in the cave, besides Citlali and the heroes, was Ororon. His tall, calm figure was an odd contrast to the energy swirling around the group. Chasca eyed him curiously, noting how he leaned against the stone, arms crossed but still alert. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing as if trying to place the reason for his presence.

Citlali, noticing the questioning glances, spoke without hesitation. "I’ve allowed Ororon to join the ritual here," she said, her tone firm yet neutral. She stood up, brushing the chalk dust off her hands, then gestured to the center of the circle. The symbols she had drawn were complex and layered, spiraling inward like some sort of cosmic map. At the very heart of it, the smallest circle waited—just big enough for one person to sit within. Kinich felt his stomach tighten as he realized it was him.

He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the designs, feeling the weight of their significance. "What does this ritual do exactly?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Citlali’s gaze softened. "It will connect you to your ancient name. But more importantly," she paused, meeting his eyes, "it will bind you to it, solidifying your place within the fabric of the world. This is no simple spell—it’s a thread woven into the very essence of who you are."

Kinich swallowed, trying to process her words, but before he could speak, Ajaw interrupted again, his voice a sharp contrast to the solemnity of the moment. "What, so you’re saying this is like... what, a cosmic fingerprint?" he joked, his tone laced with annoyance. "A little ink, a little magic, and BOOM! Ancient name found?"

"Ajaw, could you be quiet for a second?" Xilonen snapped, a sharpness in her voice that made everyone turn to look at her. She met Kinich’s gaze for a split second before looking away, her expression unreadable.

“"Alright," Citlali sighed. "Just a warning, this ritual... I find it a bit dramatic." She gestured toward the circle. "Go on, child. Sit in the circle."

Kinich hesitated but then sat in the center, his nerves palpable. Citlali sighed heavily, clearly unimpressed. "Ajaw, get out of the circle," she said.

Ajaw looked genuinely offended, his voice booming. "WHAT!?"

"I know you love being next to Kinich like a clingy ex, but if you're in the circle, the energy will be drawn from you. And I assume you don't want to help this damsel in distress, no matter how much you seem to want to," Citlali scoffed.

Ajaw, clearly enraged, floated his pixelated form out of the circle with a huff. "Good," Citlali said with a satisfied nod.

She then picked up an hourglass and stood in front of the obsidian totem. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Citlali closed her eyes, and Kinich, feeling the weight of the situation, glanced around. Mualani gave him an encouraging double thumbs-up. Then Citlali began chanting, her voice low and steady. Kinich couldn't help but feel like he was being prepared for some sort of ritualistic sacrifice. The air around him seemed to hum with the energy of countless souls.

The circle began to glow faintly, and the hourglass spun wildly in Citlali’s hands, as though it was powered by forces beyond their control.

"Stars above, shining bright,
Guide my path through endless night.

Whispers call from days of old,
Strength and power, fierce and bold.
Names etched deep in time’s embrace,
Lead me to my rightful place.

Through the dark, I find my way,
With your light, I’ll face the day.
Bound together, spirits strong,
In your presence, I belong.

Ancient heroes, lend your hand!
Your name will never be lost in sand!"

Kinich's nightsoul tattoos began to glow, just like when he used his nightsoul blessing. But this time, it felt different—stronger, sharper. He could feel his body rise off the ground as if something was pulling him upward. White glowing strings appeared around him, wrapping around his chest, then piercing his heart. He gasped in pain, the strings draining his energy. It was a sensation like nothing he had ever felt before—unnerving and overwhelming.

Then, as quickly as it had started, the flow of energy stopped. Kinich crashed to the ground, unable to move. Xilonen was immediately by his side, helping him to his feet.

Citlali, standing near the totem, handed them the hourglass. "This will help you find your ancient name," she said, her tone flat.

Chasca, still looking confused, raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Citlali shrugged, her expression uncaring. "I don’t know. It’s not like I perform this ritual often." She glanced at the hourglass in her hands. "But it reacts to the energy you’ve just released. It should lead you to your name. If you're lucky."

Kinich’s thoughts were a swirl of uncertainty. His ancient name was still a mystery, a key to unlocking something vital, but now he was left wondering if this was really the right way to find it. The ritual had drained him, both physically and emotionally. He felt as though a piece of him had been taken, and what remained wasn’t quite enough to fill the gap.

He reached out, cautiously taking the hourglass from Citlali, its weight lighter than he expected. The sand inside shimmered in the dim light, each grain seeming to represent a fleeting moment of time.

Things were finally getting under control.

Chapter Text

The day Lyney had dreaded had finally arrived. He stood in the dimly lit chamber, the oppressive air thick with the weight of unspoken threats. Across from him, the Knave, her expression colder than the ice she commanded, stood with arms crossed, her sharp eyes dissecting him.

“Well?” she said, her voice carrying the quiet menace of a storm about to break. “The ancient name. Where is it?”

Lyney fidgeted, a rare crack in his usual composed demeanor. Adjusting his hat, he offered a hesitant smile. “Ah, about that, father,” he began, voice tinged with forced charm. “There’s been a... slight complication.” Lyney was aware that he had roughly 5 minutes before the ancient heroes came to beat him into the floorboards.

Lynette, standing to his right, flicked her tail in irritation. Her expression remained neutral, but Lyney could feel her disapproval radiating off her. She shot him a quick glance that seemed to say, “Do not make this worse.”

The Knave’s icy gaze bored into him. “Complication?” she echoed, her tone laced with venom.

“Yes, you see,” Lyney continued, clearing his throat nervously, “it turns out the ancient name is... well... not exactly transferable. Completely useless to anyone except the original bearer. A fascinating quirk, really—”

“Lyney,” Freminet interrupted softly, tugging on his sleeve. “Maybe... stop talking?”

The Knave’s eyes flicked to Freminet, who immediately shrank behind his diving helmet, clutching it as if it could shield him from her wrath.

“You mean to tell me,” the Knave said, her voice razor-sharp, “that after all the resources I’ve poured into this endeavor, you’ve brought me something utterly worthless?”

“Not entirely worthless!” Lyney protested, raising his hands defensively. “Think of the knowledge we’ve gained about—”

“Do not test me, Lyney,” she hissed, her voice a low growl. “Your excuses bore me. And worse, you’ve led others right to us.”

At this, Lynette stiffened. Her calm mask cracked, her ears perking up. “You mean the ancient heroes?”

“Who else?” the Knave snapped. “They’ve been trailing you for days, and now they’re close enough to threaten my plans.”

“They’re not your plans,” Lynette shot back, her voice sharp. “This whole mess wasn’t exactly Lyney’s idea.”

Lyney blinked in surprise at her defense but wisely kept his mouth shut.

The Knave turned her icy glare on Lynette, who stood her ground. “Watch your tone.” she said coldly. “You’d do well to remember your place.”

Freminet shifted uncomfortably, looking between his siblings and the Harbinger. “Maybe we could... leave? Before they catch up to us?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The Knave ignored him, her focus back on Lyney. “You’ve failed me now,” she said, her words deliberate and cutting. “Consider this your final chance. Fix it, or I will make an example of you that even the Tsaritsa will remember.”

Lyney swallowed hard, his usual charm entirely evaporated. “Understood, father.” He paused, before asking. “Should we just… Give it back?”

She fixed Lyney with a piercing glare before speaking, her words dripping with disdain. “I couldn’t care less what you do with that rock. Maybe take a lesson from it—because somehow, even in its complete uselessness, it’s proving to be more valuable than you.”

With a swish of her coat, the Knave turned and strode out, her presence lingering like a storm cloud even after she was gone.

“She got your ass with that one.” Lynette snickered.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Freminet was the first to speak, his voice trembling. “What do we do now?”

Lyney let out a shaky breath, adjusting his scarf. “Simple,” he said, trying to inject some confidence into his voice. “We stay ahead of the ancient heroes, figure out how to make this right, and, oh yes, avoid dying at the Knave’s hands. Piece of cake.”

Lynette groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re impossible.”

Freminet clutched his helmet tighter, looking between them. “I... I think I need to sit down.”

“No time for that,” Lyney said, grabbing Freminet by the shoulder and pulling him toward the door. “We’ve got a head start, and we’re going to need every second of it.”

As they hurried into the darkened streets, the weight of their predicament pressed down on them. Behind them, the twin threats of the Knave’s wrath and the relentless pursuit of the ancient heroes loomed large, leaving no room for mistakes.

Kinich had never realized how much he relied on his Nightsoul blessing until he no longer had access to it. It was as if a piece of him was missing—something that always made movement feel effortless. Now, with each step, the weariness seemed to weigh him down more and more. His feet ached from the constant walking, and he was painfully aware of how much slower he was than the others. Xilonen, Chasca, and Mualani moved ahead with ease, their movements fluid and swift. Kinich, on the other hand, felt every step drag.

He had figured out the hourglass, sort of. When he held it up to the sun, it gave him a rough direction of where Lyney was, around seventy percent of the time. But the results were far from reliable—just enough to tease him with hope, only for it to vanish once nightfall came. At night, the hourglass became useless. The lack of his powers left him feeling exposed, vulnerable. It was as if the world had become a little bit harder to navigate without that one constant ability, and it frustrated him more than he’d like to admit.

The others had noticed his struggle, of course. Chasca had asked him more than once if he was okay, to which Kinich always responded with a curt “I’m fine.” He didn’t want to burden anyone else with his troubles, but the truth was—he wasn’t fine.

“How much further do you think he is?” Mualani asked, glancing back at him with a concerned expression.

Kinich glanced down at the hourglass in his hand. He didn’t need to check the sun this time. He had a rough idea of where Lyney might be. “A little further,” he muttered, his voice low. “We’re close.”

Xilonen’s eyes narrowed, and she fell back a few steps to match his pace. “You sure you’re okay? You’re lagging behind.”

“I’m fine,” Kinich said quickly, though the words felt hollow in his mouth. He could hear the weariness in his own voice, but he refused to acknowledge it. He wasn’t about to slow them down further.

She didn’t press the issue, but the look she gave him was filled with concern. “If you need a break, just say so. We can stop.”

Kinich shook his head. “No. We’re close.”

They continued in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the steady rhythm of footsteps and the wind in the trees. But the truth was, the physical exhaustion wasn’t the worst part. It was the nagging feeling that Lyney was always just out of reach, always just beyond his grasp. Every time they thought they were getting closer, the distance between them seemed to grow. The hourglass in his hand felt heavier with every step.

Eventually, Xilonen fell into step beside him again, this time with a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You know," she said, her tone light, "if you ever wanted to talk about what's really bothering you, I’m here."

Kinich didn’t look at her, keeping his focus ahead. “I don’t need to talk about it.”

“I’m not saying you do,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “But you don’t have to carry everything on your own. Just remember that, alright?”

He didn’t answer, though a small part of him appreciated her words. For now, though, he wasn’t ready to share. There was too much riding on this chase. He had to focus. He had to catch Lyney.

Lynette raised an eyebrow, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She stared at Lyney, who was standing by the window, his back turned to her. The flickering candlelight illuminated his silhouette, but his expression remained obscured.

"I still think this is a terrible idea," she muttered, her tone dripping with annoyance.

Lyney glanced back at her, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, come on, Lynette. You’ve got to admit, it’s a bold move," he said, turning fully to face her, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

She sighed heavily, her fingers tapping impatiently on her arm. "Bold, maybe. But I’ve seen bold turn into disaster more times than I can count," she retorted.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "This time, I know exactly what I’m doing," Lyney said, his tone laced with confidence that made her pause.

Lynette arched her eyebrows, her tone flat. "And that’s supposed to reassure me?"

He grinned slyly. "Absolutely. I've got it all planned out. Besides, father said we don’t need the ancient name, what better way to get rid of it?”

She scoffed. "And you’re gonna get Kinich to do it?"

Lyney tilted his head, his eyes glinting. "Precisely," he said, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Lynette shook her head, an exasperated expression on her face. "Lyney, I swear, if you manage to turn this into another catastrophe—"

He cut her off, grinning. "It’s not a catastrophe if I win in the end, Lynette," he said, stepping closer. His gaze was steady, almost challenging. "I just need Kinich to agree to it, that’s all."

She raised her eyebrows, looking at him skeptically. "And you’re sure he’ll do that?"

Lyney grinned. "Oh, he will," he said confidently. He paused, his expression shifting subtly as he locked eyes with her. "He doesn’t have a choice, really."

Lynette smirked wryly. "And you know that, how?"

Lyney’s smile widened, the corners of his lips twitching mischievously. "I’ve got a little leverage," he said, his eyes glinting knowingly as he pulled out the ancient name.

She raised her eyebrows, her tone skeptical. "And that doesn’t sound like trouble at all, Lyney?"

He chuckled softly, giving her a wink. "Trust me, it’ll all work out in the end," he said, before turning back to the window, a contemplative look on his face.

Lynette shook her head, letting out a small laugh that was half-exasperated, half-amused. "And if it doesn’t?" she murmured under her breath.

Lyney smirked, not looking back. "Then I’ll just have to make it work," he said, his tone dripping with conviction.

Lynette watched him closely, her expression softening slightly. She didn’t know whether to be impressed or worried. But one thing was certain: Lyney was determined, and once he set his mind on something, there was no stopping him.

Chapter Text

Kinich held up the hourglass to the sun with a bored expression. What should have been a quick journey had stretched into nearly a week, thanks to his lack of nightsoul powers. The relentless pace had taken a toll on him—mentally and physically. He could feel the concern of the other heroes as they tried to stay close, clearly worried about his condition, but that only made him more irritable.

The ancient name didn’t even matter much to him anymore. All he wanted was for his life to return to some semblance of normalcy.

Just as he was about to lower the hourglass in frustration, it flickered with faint light. The small arrow ring at its neck spun for a moment before pointing forward, then upward. Kinich squinted, following its direction, and froze in disbelief.

“I'm seeing things, right?” Xilonen said, crossing her arms and glaring at the ridge ahead.

“No, this is definitely real,” Chasca muttered. “Though, honestly, why am I not surprised?”

Sitting casually on the edge of a mountain cliff above them, Lyney waved with a grin.

“Ah, my friends!” he called out, his tone cheerful. “It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?” Without hesitation, he slid down the slope, landing effortlessly a few feet away from the group.

Chasca groaned and rubbed her temples. “Seriously? We’re tired, Lyney. If you’re not here to give the ancient name back, can you just not?”

Lyney’s expression softened, but his playfulness remained intact. “Actually, I am here to bargain.”

The heroes exchanged wary glances. Kinich remained silent, his exhaustion dulling his curiosity.

“What kind of bargain?” Kinich asked, his voice flat.

Lyney smiled wider and stepped closer. “A simple one. I’ll return the ancient name… if you do something for me.”

The group tensed. Xilonen growled and placed a hand on her sword hilt, ready to act.

“What is it?” Kinich pressed, his patience thinning.

Lyney ignored Xilonen’s threatening posture and leaned closer to Kinich, his voice dropping into a whisper.

Xilonen’s hand tightened on her weapon. “Back off, magician. I’m not above slicing that smug smirk off your face.”

Lyney rolled his eyes, stepping back dramatically. “Calm yourself, kitty. I’m not going to hurt him. I’m offering him a deal.”

He returned his focus to Kinich, then whispered his request.

Kinich’s face twisted in shock. “That—what? That’s absurd!”

Lyney gave a mock pout. “Oh, that’s disappointing. I suppose the ancient name will stay with me. It’s such a delicate thing. It’d be a shame if it broke, considering poor Malipo is long gone.”

Before Xilonen could retort, Kinich held up a hand to stop her. He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily.

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of resignation.

Lyney’s grin turned triumphant. “Glorious. Then I’ll see you… soon.”

With a theatrical flourish, he tossed the glowing ancient name toward Kinich, who caught it reflexively. Before anyone could react further, Lyney turned on his heel and disappeared up the mountain trail.

The group stared after him in stunned silence.

“What the hell was that?” Xilonen finally asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"I think the reason he whispered it was because he doesn't want us to know," Kinich said flatly, his tone cutting off further questioning.

Xilonen opened her mouth to argue, her expression a mix of frustration and suspicion, but before she could say anything, Chasca placed a firm hand on her shoulder and gave a subtle shake of her head. Xilonen’s jaw clenched, but she relented, crossing her arms tightly instead.

“Hey!” Mualani chimed in, her voice bright and hopeful, cutting through the tension. “Now you can break the hourglass and get your nightsoul blessing back!”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Kinich felt a flicker of excitement. Without hesitation, he sprinted to the edge of a nearby cliff, gripping the hourglass tightly. He didn’t hesitate—he held it over the edge and let it go.

The hourglass fell, shattering on the rocks below with a sharp, crystalline sound. In an instant, Kinich felt a surge of power wash over him. His nightsoul tattoos glowed faintly at first, then intensified as the familiar energy coursed through his body.

He stood there for a moment, savoring the sensation, before turning back to the group. “Let’s just go home,” he sighed, his voice a mix of relief and weariness.

Mualani gave him an encouraging smile, and even Chasca looked slightly less serious. But Xilonen’s gaze lingered on Kinich longer than the others, her brow furrowed.

As they began their journey back, Kinich couldn’t help but feel a gnawing sense of unease. His nightsoul powers were back, yes—but his encounter with Lyney left him unsettled. Whatever the magician had whispered was now a weight pressing against his thoughts, one he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tried.

---

The trek back to the tribe was much faster with Kinich’s restored strength, but the group traveled in near silence. The lighthearted banter that usually accompanied their travels was absent, replaced by an unspoken tension.

When they finally reached the outskirts of the tribe, the others began splitting off toward their homes, clearly eager to rest after the long journey.

“Kinich,” Xilonen called, stopping him before he could head toward his own hut. “What did Lyney say to you?”

He hesitated, meeting her sharp gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It’s done.”

“Doesn’t matter?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “He clearly had some kind of angle, and now you’re acting all cryptic—”

“Drop it, Xilonen,” Kinich interrupted, his tone firmer than she was used to.

Her eyes narrowed, but before she could press further, Chasca stepped in. “Let him rest, Xilonen,” she said softly. “He’s been through enough.”

With a frustrated huff, Xilonen turned and walked away, leaving Kinich to finally make his way home.

What had he gotten himself into? And why did part of him feel like this was just the beginning?

Chapter Text

The mountain air was crisp, carrying with it a faint chill as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The sky painted in hues of purple and orange felt endless, the vastness of the world around him almost suffocating. Kinich stood near the edge of the cliff, his gaze lingering on the view below. He had never truly had the chance to appreciate something so simple, so expansive. But tonight, everything felt different.

He had agreed to meet Lyney here, and now that the moment had arrived, Kinich felt a strange mix of emotions—curiosity, frustration, and something else, something he couldn’t quite place.

Kinich’s eyes landed on Lyney, who was perched on a rocky outcrop, his silhouette framed by the fading hues of twilight. Lyney turned, his face lighting up with a warm, genuine smile that seemed oddly out of place.

“I’m glad you came,” Lyney said, patting the space beside him. “Sit down.”

Kinich approached cautiously, his guard up as always. He sat down, though he left a noticeable gap between them. “This isn’t some kind of scheme, is it?” His tone was wary, eyes narrowing.

Lyney chuckled, the sound light and unbothered. “Not everything I do is a scheme, mon cher.”

Kinich crossed his arms, leaning back against the rock. “You’re acting like we’re friends,” he muttered, the skepticism in his voice unmistakable.

Lyney tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Well, you did agree to a date with me. Doesn’t that at least make us acquaintances?” He reached out, lightly brushing Kinich’s arm, but Kinich instinctively pulled away, his face flushing slightly.

“This is purely transactional,” Kinich snapped, though his voice lacked the conviction he wanted it to have.

Lyney’s smile only widened. “A promising start,” he teased.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them slowly giving way to the calm of the mountain. The wind whispered softly, carrying with it the scent of wildflowers and the faint rustle of leaves.

“So,” Lyney began, breaking the silence, “tell me about yourself.”

Kinich gave him a sideways glance, unsure of Lyney’s intentions. “Why?”

“Why not?” Lyney shrugged. “If we’re going to share an evening together, we might as well make it interesting.”

Kinich hesitated before muttering, “I don’t like heights.”

Lyney blinked, then burst into laughter. “You’re a bungee jumper!”

Kinich sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware of the irony.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind for our next date,” Lyney said with a grin.

Kinich’s head snapped toward him, his cheeks burning. “That’s bold,” he muttered, shooting Lyney a sharp look.

Lyney met his gaze, unflinching. “Believe me, I’ve been called worse.”

Kinich huffed, crossing his arms again as he looked out at the horizon. “You’re impossible,” he mumbled.

“And yet, here you are,” Lyney countered, leaning back on his hands.

For a moment, Kinich allowed himself to relax, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. The mountain air was crisp, the view breathtaking, and, despite everything, Lyney’s presence wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“So, why me?” Kinich asked suddenly, his tone quieter but no less serious.

Lyney’s expression softened, his playful demeanor giving way to something more thoughtful. “Because you’re not like anyone else,” he said simply.

Kinich frowned. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

Lyney turned to him fully, his violet eyes gleaming in the fading light. “You intrigue me, Kinich. You’re strong, determined, and you don’t back down, no matter what’s thrown at you. Most people would have given up by now, but you didn’t. That kind of resilience is... captivating.”

Kinich stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in Lyney’s voice. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond.

“Don’t think flattery is going to get you anywhere,” he said finally, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Lyney chuckled again, his smile returning. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“It’s your turn,” Kinich said, crossing his arms and fixing Lyney with a steady gaze.

“Hm?” Lyney tilted his head, feigning ignorance.

Kinich raised a brow. “Now you tell me something about yourself.”

Lyney’s lips curled into a sly smile. He turned his face to the horizon, the glimmer of stars beginning to pierce the twilight, as though he were contemplating something profound. Finally, he looked back at Kinich, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m part cat,” Lyney said, his tone light but completely serious.

Kinich blinked at him, his expression shifting into one of incredulity. “You’re messing with me,” he said flatly.

Lyney shook his head, his expression far too sincere for Kinich’s liking. “Not at all. If you don’t believe me, take a closer look at my dear sister Lynette. We share more than just familial resemblance.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice for effect. “And doesn’t your friend Kachina have pika blood? Unusual lineages aren’t so uncommon, mon cher.”

Kinich stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or take him seriously. “You’re actually claiming to be part cat?”

Lyney nodded, his grin widening. “It explains a lot, doesn’t it? My impeccable balance, my charm, my... reflexes.”

Kinich rolled his eyes, his skepticism refusing to waver. “So you’re saying you have whiskers hidden somewhere, too?”

“Ah, now you’re being absurd,” Lyney replied, a playful pout forming on his lips.

Kinich sighed, rubbing his temples. “Why did I even ask? I should’ve known you’d come up with something ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Lyney gasped in mock offense. “I take great pride in my heritage, thank you very much.”

Kinich shook his head but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. What else?”

“Ah, so you’re curious about me now,” Lyney said, his tone teasing. “Be careful, Kinich, or I might think you’re starting to like me.”

Kinich’s face reddened, and he quickly looked away. “Just answer the question,” he muttered.

Lyney chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. He leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the stars. “Alright, something else. Let’s see... I have a terrible fear of enclosed spaces.”

Kinich turned back to him, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “Really?”

Lyney nodded, his expression softening. “It’s not something I usually admit. But yes. It’s why I prefer open stages and rooftops—places where I can breathe.”

Kinich studied him for a moment, his teasing demeanor temporarily replaced by something more genuine. “That... actually explains a lot,” he said quietly.

Lyney glanced at him, his smile gentler this time. “Your turn again, then.”

Kinich sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Fine. I used to think the stars were alive when I was a kid,” he admitted.

Lyney raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh? And what changed your mind?”

Kinich shrugged, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “I grew up.”

“Hmm,” Lyney hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think you ever truly stopped believing. You still look at them like they’re alive.”

Kinich blinked, caught off guard by the observation. “You’re... reading too much into it.”

“Am I?” Lyney said, his voice soft but knowing.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the quiet hum of the mountain night surrounding them. For the first time, Kinich found himself thinking that maybe Lyney wasn’t so impossible after all.

Chapter Text

Kachina had been relentless for the past few days, pulling at Kinich's side every chance she got, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Hermano Kinich!” she called, practically jumping with excitement. “What did he ask you? What did he ask?”

Kinich gave Mualani an exasperated glance. “Why would you tell her?” he muttered.

Mualani grinned and leaned back, enjoying the spectacle. “She's my EVIL LITTLE HELPER!” she declared with a wink, ruffling Kachina’s head as the younger girl pouted dramatically.

“I’m not evil,” Kachina huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m just really curious, hermano!”

Kinich sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t stay annoyed at Kachina for long—her enthusiasm was contagious. But that didn’t mean he was ready to spill the beans.

“You both are impossible,” Kinich muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. It had been hard enough keeping the date a secret, but his friends were proving to be much more persistent than he had anticipated.

“You can’t hide things from us forever, hermano,” Mualani teased. “So? What did Lyney want from you?” She leaned forward, her face brimming with amusement.

Kachina quickly followed suit, grabbing his sleeve and tugging on it persistently. “Come on, tell us! You’re always keeping secrets.”

Kinich looked from one to the other, trying his best to remain firm. “It's nothing, really,” he said quickly. “Just... a simple favor.”

Kachina narrowed her eyes. “A favor?” she repeated, skeptical. “That’s it? No details?”

Kinich raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, hoping they would drop it. “There’s nothing more to say.”

Mualani wasn’t convinced. “Is it really just a favor?” she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Kinich rolled his eyes, trying to fight the blush creeping up on his cheeks. “Yes.” he replied a little too quickly. “It’s just... a favor. Nothing special.”

Kachina stared at him for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, throwing herself back onto the grass with a flourish. “Fine! Be mysterious,” she groaned. “But I’ll crack that secret eventually!”

Kinich tried to hide a smile as he shook his head. “You’re persistent, ill give you that.”

She sat up again, putting her hands on her hips in a mock serious pose. “You can’t keep things from your little hermana forever. I’ll get it out of you!”

Kinich looked at her fondly, his frustration easing. She wasn’t wrong; she had a way of worming information out of people. But today? He wasn't ready. Not yet.

Mualani gave Kinich a knowing smile, recognizing his reluctance to say more. “Alright, hermano,” she said, stretching lazily and standing up. “We-” she glanced at Kachina. “Well, I will leave you alone for now, but you better tell us!”

Kachina pouted for a second, but then flashed a bright smile. “Yeah! I’ll be waiting!”

Kinich chuckled and stood up as well, stretching his stiff limbs. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready. But don’t expect it anytime soon.”

“Fine,” Kachina said dramatically, crossing her arms. “I’ll just have to figure it out on my own.” She then winked, her mischievous grin returning. “And when I do, I’ll have the best blackmail material on the planet!”

Mualani shook her head, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. No blackmailing your hermano, Kachina.”

Kinich looked at them both and felt a warmth settle in his chest. Despite all the teasing and pestering, it was moments like this that made him appreciate his family more than anything. He knew that no matter what, they would always be there for him—whether he told them his secrets or not.

As they bantered among themselves, Kinich felt the weight on his shoulders lift, even if just a little. He wasn’t ready to share everything just yet, but with his friends by his side, he knew he didn’t have to face anything alone.

---

The nagging didn’t stop with Mualani and Kachina. In fact, it was beginning to feel like it was never going to end. The group of ancient heroes had gathered at their usual spot in the stadium’s restaurant—one of those quiet places they frequented to unwind, chat, and share stories. Today, though, the usual banter was missing. It was eerily quiet.

Kinich felt it before he even entered the room. The subtle shift in the air, the way the others weren’t really talking to each other—they were all watching him. He could feel their eyes on him like a weight pressing down on his shoulders.

Xilonen, sitting at the far end of the table, was the first to catch his attention. She wore a cheeky grin that hinted at something. Kinich shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper aware of every movement, every slight sound. Her gaze was full of mischief, but she didn’t say anything. Not yet.

Chasca, on the other hand, was more straightforward. She sat with her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in confusion, clearly puzzled by the lack of Kinich’s usual response. “What’s going on with you?” she asked bluntly, but her tone was softer than usual, perhaps sensing the tension in the air.

Kinich didn’t know how to answer. He had been avoiding the group’s prying eyes for days, but now, in the quiet of the restaurant, it was impossible to avoid. His thoughts were clouded with Lyney’s offer, the deal they’d struck, and his own growing feelings about the situation. But how could he explain that without revealing the whole truth? He couldn’t. Not yet.

Mualani, sitting beside Ororon, leaned in and whispered something to him. Kinich could see her lips moving but couldn’t catch the words. He didn’t need to. The worried looks Ororon kept shooting his way were enough. The two of them must have been talking about him—what was going on with him lately? Why had he been so distant?

Ororon finally met Kinich’s gaze, a slight, apologetic smile on his face. He knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t going to force it out of him. At least not yet.

The rest of the table remained quiet, all of them now clearly more interested in what was going on with Kinich than the usual casual conversation. It was as though the whole restaurant had gone still, all of them waiting for him to say something, anything, to break the silence.

“You’re acting strange,” Xilonen finally spoke up, her voice teasing but laced with curiosity. “You’ve been off lately. What’s going on?”

Kinich ran a hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed him. It wasn’t convincing, not to any of them.

“Liar,” Xilonen said, her grin widening. “C’mon, Kinich. What’s really going on? We all know something’s up. You’re the last person to act like this.”

Kinich’s heart sank. How could he keep this secret from them? How could he tell them that everything had changed since that night, that strange deal with Lyney still hung over him like a shadow?

The quiet hum of the restaurant felt deafening. He wanted to escape, to just disappear into the night. But there was no running from this. He had to face it.

“I’m just... not sure about some things,” Kinich said, his voice quieter now. “It’s... complicated.”

Chasca gave him a skeptical look. “Complicated how?”

Before Kinich could answer, Mualani, who had been whispering to Ororon again, leaned forward. “Okay, seriously, what is going on? You’ve been distant for days, Kinich. You can’t just keep shutting us out.”

Kinich stared at her, his gaze steady but tired. He wanted to tell her, wanted to explain everything—about Lyney, about the deal, about the way he felt—but something held him back. Something told him that if he shared too much, it would change everything. The tension between them all would shatter.

“I’m just tired,” he said at last, offering them a weak smile. “It’s been a long journey, that’s all.”

Ororon raised an eyebrow but didn’t press him any further. Mualani signed but didn’t say anything more.

The silence settled again, but this time, it felt different. There was still an unspoken question hanging in the air, lingering just between them all.

Xilonen leaned back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “Well, you don’t have to spill your secrets now,” she said, her voice light. “But just know we’re here when you’re ready to talk, Kinich.”

Kinich nodded, grateful for her understanding but still feeling the weight of the conversation hanging over him. He wasn’t ready to talk, not yet. But he knew he couldn’t keep this secret forever.

Unfortunately, it seemed like he didn’t have to. Lyney approached the group with his trademark cocky stride, his smirk firmly in place as if he already knew he’d won some invisible game. “Hello, my friends,” he greeted, his voice dripping with amusement. “I hope you weren’t talking about me. I do hate it when people talk behind my back.”

Chasca looked up briefly, then turned her attention back to the table, clearly unimpressed. Xilonen, however, bristled, her disapproval of the magician practically radiating off her. “Careful,” she said sharply. “Hide your ancient names. Mister Sneaky Step is coming to snatch them up again.”

Lyney feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Xilonen, you wound me. I haven’t even done anything to you.”

“You hurt my friends,” Xilonen shot back, her voice low and venomous.

Lyney laughed, light and easy, as though her anger was a compliment. “Look at this lovely man.” He gestured toward Kinich, who immediately froze under the attention, his eyes wide. “Do you see a single scar on him? No?” Lyney’s grin widened, and he turned his gaze back to Xilonen. “See? I haven’t hurt anyone here.”

Kinich, still caught off guard, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His face betrayed a mixture of embarrassment and frustration as he glanced away, trying to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

“That’s not the point,” Xilonen retorted, her voice rising. “You play these games, you manipulate people—”

“Games?” Lyney interjected, his tone almost delighted. “Oh, Xilonen, life is a game. You should try enjoying it sometime. It does wonders for the soul.”

Chasca sighed heavily, finally breaking her silence. “Lyney, why are you here? You clearly didn’t come to trade quips with Xilonen.”

Lyney’s smirk softened slightly, though the glint of mischief never left his eyes. “You’re right, as always, Chasca. I came to check in on Kinich. After all, we’re... what’s the word?” He paused dramatically, tapping a finger to his lips. “Ah, yes. Close.”

Kinich’s head snapped up at that, his face flushing. “We’re not close,” he said firmly, his voice a little too loud. “You’re just—”

Lyney raised a hand to cut him off, his expression now bordering on amused exasperation. “Relax, mon cher. No need to get defensive. I’m just here to chat. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to talk about... other things.”

Kinich stiffened, understanding the veiled reference to their secret deal. The rest of the group watched the exchange intently, clearly picking up on the tension but unable to piece together its full meaning.

“Fine,” Kinich muttered, standing abruptly. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Lyney’s smile widened, satisfaction written all over his face. “Of course. Lead the way.”

As the two walked away from the group, Xilonen leaned closer to Chasca, her brow furrowed. “I don’t trust him. He’s up to something.”

Chasca nodded slowly, her gaze following the pair. “Neither do I. But whatever it is, Kinich seems to be caught in the middle of it.”

---

Kinich led Lyney to a quiet corner near the edge of the stadium, his mind racing. The magician’s casual demeanor made him feel like he was constantly being cornered in a game he didn’t fully understand.

“Where is your thrilling companion? I noticed he was missing earlier.” Lyney said conversationally.

”He's getting his beauty sleep.” Kinich said flatly. “Why do you keep doing this?” He asked, his voice low but firm. “Showing up, playing these games—it’s exhausting.”

Lyney leaned casually against a column, his arms crossed. “You wound me, Kinich. I thought we had an understanding.”

Kinich glared at him. “That doesn’t mean you get to waltz in and make everyone suspicious. They’re already asking questions.”

Lyney’s playful smirk softened slightly, and for a brief moment, his expression seemed almost genuine. “And what do you tell them?” he asked, his voice quieter.

Kinich hesitated, his resolve faltering. “Nothing. I tell them nothing.”

"That hurts. Are you ashamed of me?" Lyney asked, clutching his chest in mock offense, his expression the picture of theatrical heartbreak.

"You want me to be?" Kinich scoffed, his arms crossed.

"I don't recall specifically asking you to keep our date a secret," Lyney said smoothly, his smirk widening ever so slightly.

"DATE!?" Xilonen's voice rang out from somewhere above them, loud and sharp enough to send Kinich flinching.

"Ah," Lyney said, glancing upward with a bemused expression. "Right on cue."

Kinich’s face burned, and he immediately turned around, searching for Xilonen. Sure enough, she was perched a level above them, arms crossed and her expression a mix of shock and triumph.

“You’re going on a date with him?!” Xilonen demanded, jumping down effortlessly to join them, her voice rising with each word.

“It’s not—” Kinich began, but Lyney cut him off, raising a finger as if to shush him.

“Now, now,” Lyney said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Let’s not ruin the magic of the moment. Besides, it’s already happened.”

“WHAT?” Xilonen stared at Kinich like he’d grown a second head. “When?”

Kinich buried his face in his hands, muttering, “This is exactly why I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Last night,” Lyney said cheerfully. “We had a wonderful time, didn’t we, Kinich?”

Kinich glared at him, his expression screaming murder. “Why do you feel the need to make everything sound so—so—”

“Romantic?” Lyney offered innocently.

“Suspicious!” Kinich snapped.

Xilonen groaned, rubbing her temples. “I knew something was up with you lately, but this? Lyney of all people?”

“Should I feel flattered or insulted by that?” Lyney asked, tilting his head as though genuinely pondering the question.

“Both,” Xilonen shot back. “Kinich, what are you even thinking? This guy—”

“This guy,” Kinich interrupted, his tone sharper than usual, “gave me back the ancient name without a fight. Whatever else he’s done, he didn’t hurt anyone in our group.”

Xilonen blinked at the unexpected defense, momentarily at a loss for words. Lyney, meanwhile, grinned like a cat that had just been handed a saucer of cream.

“Well, that was unexpectedly sweet,” Lyney said, clasping his hands together. “I think I’m going to cherish this moment.”

“Don’t,” Kinich said flatly, glaring at him again.

Xilonen groaned louder this time. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.” She turned on her heel and stormed off, muttering under her breath about irresponsible choices.

Lyney waited until she was out of earshot before leaning slightly closer to Kinich. “That went well, don’t you think?”

Kinich sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Not when it’s this much fun.” Lyney winked, clearly enjoying every moment of Kinich’s discomfort. “But don’t worry, mon cher. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kinich sighed again, already dreading the fallout of this latest fiasco. But as frustrating as Lyney was, a small part of him—the part he refused to acknowledge—couldn’t help but find the magician’s unwavering confidence strangely... reassuring.

Chapter Text

Kinich and Lyney's relationship had been a strange mix of ups and downs lately. For Kinich, life was mostly back to normal—except for the occasional interruptions from Lyney, who seemed to have made it his mission to tease him at every opportunity. At first, it annoyed him, but Kinich couldn’t deny that Lyney’s presence felt less like a nuisance and more like an odd sort of companionship.

Lyney would sometimes tag along during Kinich’s jobs, offering his unique brand of help—or mischief—and then stick around to chat as though they were old friends. Xilonen, ever the skeptic, continued to voice her unease, though her protests had softened over time. Whatever motives Lyney had, he wasn’t causing harm. He just seemed to want to spend time with Kinich.

Kinich had always seen Lyney as untouchable—confident, sly, and always two steps ahead of everyone else. That’s why it was so unexpected to see him vulnerable.

The rain had come out of nowhere, breaking the oppressive summer heat in a sudden downpour. Most villagers had taken cover, but Kinich found the cool rain refreshing as he walked through the empty streets. The steady rhythm of the rain against the rooftops was oddly soothing.

As he neared the edge of the village, he spotted a familiar figure. Lyney was standing alone, his back to Kinich, gazing out over the valley below. Something about his posture—slouched shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets—felt off.

“Lyney?” Kinich called out as he approached.

Lyney jumped, startled, quickly wiping at his face before turning around with a forced smile. “Oh, Kinich. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Are you okay?” Kinich asked, frowning.

“Of course,” Lyney said breezily, though his voice lacked its usual charm. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kinich wasn’t convinced. “You don’t look fine.”

Lyney laughed, but it was hollow. “Do you always analyze people this much? It’s very endearing.”

“Lyney,” Kinich said firmly, “what’s wrong?”

The magician hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s nothing, really. Just an off day.”

Kinich started to turn away, giving him space, but Lyney’s voice stopped him. It was quieter this time, almost a whisper. “It would have been my mother’s birthday today.”

Kinich froze, his chest tightening. Slowly, he turned back, watching as Lyney leaned against the wooden railing overlooking the valley.

“They died when I was six—my parents,” Lyney continued, his voice steady but brittle. “After that, it was just me and my sister. I had to grow up fast. No birthdays, no celebrations. Just survival.” He paused, staring into the misty rain. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would’ve been like. A normal childhood, with presents and cakes and parents who cared.”

Kinich moved to stand beside him, leaning against the railing. The metal was cold against his arms, grounding him as memories surfaced unbidden.

“I get it,” he said quietly.

Lyney looked at him, surprised. “You do?”

Kinich nodded, his gaze distant. “My mom left when I was a kid. My dad… he wasn’t exactly the loving type. I spent most of my childhood trying to prove I didn’t need him. But then…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “On my seventh birthday, he died. And I spent that night dragging his body home.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Kinich let out a shaky breath. “I still think about it sometimes. What it would’ve been like to have a real family. But... I guess I found a new one. The Ancient Name, my friends—they gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have.”

Lyney was quiet, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he reached out and pulled Kinich into a hug.

Kinich stiffened, caught off guard, but he could feel Lyney trembling against him, hear the muffled sobs he was trying to suppress. Slowly, awkwardly, Kinich returned the embrace, his arms encircling Lyney in a gesture of tentative comfort.

They stood there in the rain, their shared grief mingling with the falling droplets. For the first time, Kinich saw beyond Lyney’s cocky facade—to the cracks in his armor, the pain he carried but never showed.

When Lyney finally pulled back, his smile was softer, more genuine. “Thank you,” he said, his voice rough.

Kinich nodded, unsure what to say.

So he didn't say anything.

Chapter Text

Morning light filtered through the stadium as the Ancient Heroes gathered in their usual spot. Conversations flowed easily among the group, but the usual energy felt subdued. Lyney, much to Xilonen’s irritation, lounged on the edge of the group, twirling a card between his fingers and wearing his trademark smug grin.

Chasca approached, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic. The group immediately noticed her distress. Xilonen, sharp-eyed as ever, was the first to move to her side.

“Chasca?” Xilonen asked, concern etched across her face.

“It’s gone,” Chasca said, her voice barely audible. “My Ancient Name. It’s gone.”

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Everyone exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to respond.

Xilonen’s eyes narrowed, and her gaze snapped to Lyney, sharp as a blade. “Gee. I wonder what happened,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

Lyney sighed theatrically, not even looking up from the card in his hand. “Your suspicion is reasonable,” he said with an exaggerated calmness, “but I’m afraid I have nothing to do with Vuka.”

“Oh, really?” Xilonen snapped, stepping closer to him. “Then how do you know it’s called Vuka?”

For a fraction of a second, Lyney’s confident demeanor faltered—just enough for Kinich to notice—but he recovered quickly, his expression smooth as ever. “It’s common knowledge at this point,” he said with a shrug, slipping the card into his pocket.

“Common knowledge, my ass,” Xilonen muttered, but before she could press further, Kinich stepped between them.

“Enough,” Kinich said, his voice firm. “Arguing won’t get us anywhere. We need to figure out where Vuka is.”

The group immediately sprang into action, following Chasca’s lead as she tried to focus on the connection she had with her Ancient Name.

---

Hours passed as they combed through the streets of the city. Chasca grew more confident in her sense of direction as they moved, leading them through winding alleys and abandoned courtyards. Eventually, the faint tug of Vuka’s presence grew stronger, guiding them to a shadowy alleyway near the outskirts of the city.

As they turned the corner, they were met with an unexpected sight: a gang of rough-looking thugs huddled around a glowing object. The faint, pulsing light of Vuka emanated from the hands of the gang’s apparent leader. His grin was cruel and greedy as he turned the Ancient Name over in his hands, inspecting it like a prized jewel.

“That’s it!” Chasca whispered, her voice urgent.

Xilonen immediately drew her sword, her movements quick and practiced. “They won’t know what hit them,” she said, already stepping forward.

“Wait—” Kinich started, but it was too late.

Xilonen charged into the fray, her blade flashing in the dim light. Kinich and Chasca hurried after her, while Lyney lingered at the back, observing the scene with an unreadable expression before following.

The battle was chaotic but short-lived. Xilonen’s sword cut through the gang’s defenses with precision, while Kinich’s glowing nightsoul tattoos gave him the strength to subdue their opponents. Chasca managed to grab Vuka in the chaos, holding it tightly to her chest as if afraid it might disappear again.

The gang leader, realizing they were outmatched, ordered a retreat. Within moments, the thugs had scattered, leaving the heroes victorious but winded.

---

As they made their way back to the stadium, the tension in the group began to ease. Chasca kept Vuka close, her face a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. Xilonen, however, couldn’t shake the nagging thoughts swirling in her mind.

She glanced at Lyney, who walked at the back of the group with his hands in his pockets, whistling a cheerful tune. For the first time, Xilonen found herself doubting her suspicions. Lyney had fought alongside them without hesitation. He hadn’t tried to take Vuka, and his demeanor—while insufferably smug—hadn’t hinted at any malicious intent.

Was I being unreasonable? she thought, frowning. Was I just looking for someone to blame?

Later, as the group settled back at the stadium, Kinich approached her. “You’ve been quiet,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

Xilonen hesitated, her gaze flickering to Lyney, who was entertaining Chasca and Ororon with an elaborate card trick. His grin was cheeky as ever, but it lacked the malice she had been so sure of before.

“Maybe I’ve been too hard on him,” Xilonen admitted, crossing her arms. “I don’t trust him, but… maybe I’ve been projecting my frustration onto him.”

Kinich nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Lyney has a way of getting under people’s skin, but he’s not as bad as he seems.”

Xilonen sighed. “We’ll see.”

As Lyney caught her watching and gave her a playful wink, she rolled her eyes and muttered, “Still annoying, though.”

Kinich chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”

For now, the group was safe, and Vuka was back where it belonged. But Xilonen knew that her doubts about Lyney—and her own judgment—were far from resolved.
The night had settled into a peaceful calm, the usual hum of the world fading into the backdrop of distant stars. The small camp near the forest was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire. Kinich and the others—Xilonen, Chasca, Mualani, and Ororon—had gathered to rest for the night after another long day of traveling.

The firelight flickered on their faces as they sat in a loose circle around the flames. Xilonen, ever the vigilant one, sat with her arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, always on alert. Mualani was nearby, humming softly to herself as she tended to her small pouch of herbs. Chasca leaned back, hands behind her head, a relaxed expression on her face as she listened to the wind.

And then there was Lyney.

Kinich had gotten used to the magician’s presence over the past few days, but tonight felt different. Lyney sat on a log near the fire, the soft glow casting warm hues over his face. He was quieter than usual, almost lost in thought. Kinich couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Lyney so still, so… contemplative. It wasn’t like the charming, mischievous figure who had so often teased him and the others. Tonight, there was something vulnerable about him.

Kinich tried not to look at him for too long. The night had been long enough, and his mind had already wandered far too many times into unfamiliar places. His feelings for Lyney had shifted in subtle ways, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. What had started as innocent teasing had become something more—something more complicated.

“I’ll keep watch tonight,” Xilonen announced, breaking Kinich’s thoughts. She stood up and walked toward the edge of the camp, her gaze sweeping the dark horizon.

“Of course you will,” Mualani teased, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “I suppose I’ll be the one to make sure we don’t all starve tomorrow, then.”

Chasca let out a quiet chuckle. “I’m just here for the entertainment.”

Kinich’s mind was somewhere else entirely, and as he gathered his gear, he noticed Lyney glancing over at him.

“You know,” Lyney said, his voice suddenly low and casual, “you don’t have to keep your distance.”

Kinich blinked, surprised. “What?”

“From everyone,” Lyney said, his voice still gentle. “You’re quieter than usual tonight. You usually have something to say, a comment to throw at me.”

Kinich shifted awkwardly but didn’t look up. “I’m just tired,” he muttered. “We’ve been traveling all day.”

Lyney didn’t press him further. Instead, he got up and moved toward the campfire, poking the embers with a stick. The flames flickered as he leaned on the log.

As the silence between them stretched on, Kinich found himself drawn to the stillness in the air. The group’s banter had faded, and now all he could hear was the wind and the fire. He didn’t realize how much he needed the quiet until it was there.

“Kinich,” Chasca’s voice broke the stillness. She sat up, rubbing her hands together in the cool night air. “You’re awfully quiet tonight. You okay?”

Kinich looked at her and forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s nothing.”

She eyed him for a moment, but her gaze softened. “If you say so.”

Ororon, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly spoke up. “It’s not often we all get a moment of peace like this. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

Kinich turned to him. “Think about what?”

“About what comes next,” Ororon said softly. “We’ve all been through our own battles, our own struggles. But sometimes, we don’t talk about it. Tonight, it feels like we don’t need to.”

Mualani nodded in agreement, her eyes soft. “Yeah, tonight’s one of those nights where words aren’t needed.”

Kinich sat back, absorbing the words. He knew they were right. There was no need to hide from them, not anymore. There was comfort in being surrounded by the people he called friends—even if he didn’t always show it.

After a few minutes, Lyney stood up and stretched, his movements languid as though he hadn’t been sitting for long at all. “Alright, everyone,” he said with a smile, “I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

Kinich looked up in surprise, but before he could respond, Lyney continued. “You guys have made it clear that you can’t handle my charm for too long, so I’ll leave you to your peace.”

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you call it? Charm?”

Lyney grinned, clearly in his element. “Why, of course! But you’re right,” he said, looking at Kinich with a glint in his eyes, “I’ll just make sure Kinich isn’t going to miss me too much.”

Kinich opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, Lyney gave him a wink and headed toward the far side of the camp, closer to where they would sleep for the night.

It wasn’t long before Kinich found himself alone near the fire with the others, each of them settling into their own spaces to sleep. Despite the quiet, he felt the weight of the evening. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion—it was the emotional toll, the constant tugging at the edges of his heart.

Soon, however, the camp became still, save for the sounds of the fire crackling and the soft whispers of the wind. Kinich, his mind racing with thoughts of Lyney, glanced over his shoulder.

For a moment, he considered going to talk to Lyney, to clear the air. But the camp was calm, and somehow, he realized, the moment was fleeting.

Lyney was already lying down, facing the sky, his breathing steady, his figure relaxed.

Without overthinking, Kinich made his way over, sitting a few feet away. “You really did call it,” he muttered, feeling the corners of his lips tug upward in spite of himself.

Lyney opened one eye and smiled. “I usually do.”

They were both quiet for a long while. The stars seemed to shine brighter in the absence of words, filling the space between them with an understanding that Kinich wasn’t sure how to explain.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kinich said, his voice barely a whisper. “I mean… for everything.”

Lyney didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his voice was softer than it had been all night. “I’m glad too, Kinich. I really am.”

The night grew colder as the stars twinkled above them, and Kinich, for the first time in a long while, let himself relax into the quiet.

They both fell asleep under the sky, the fire burning low but warm enough to keep the cold at bay.

And for once, in the peace of the night, Kinich didn’t feel so alone.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun stretched shadows long across the training field, the golden light betraying none of the tension crackling in the air. The Ancient Heroes were scattered around the open space, most pretending not to notice the brewing storm between Xilonen and Lyney. Chasca sat under a tree, sketching half-heartedly, while Ororon lounged nearby, his watchful eyes occasionally flicking toward the pair. Mualani tossed a stone idly from one hand to the other, clearly enjoying the impending confrontation.

Xilonen stood with her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Lyney. “I don’t understand why we keep pretending you belong here,” she spat.

Lyney, seated casually on the low stone wall, twirled a card between his fingers with maddening nonchalance. “Pretending? My dear Xilonen, I didn’t realize I needed your approval to exist.”

“You don’t belong here,” she repeated, her tone rising. “You’re not one of us. You’re just a trickster hanging around waiting for your next opportunity to pull something.”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “If I were plotting something, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? Or are you implying I’m both dangerous and incompetent?”

“Maybe I’m implying you’re patient,” Xilonen shot back. “Biding your time until we let our guard down. And for what? What do you want, Lyney?”

Lyney shrugged, still irritatingly calm. “Good company, a bit of fun, perhaps to enjoy the privilege of your lovely personality.”

Kinich stiffened from where he stood under a tree a short distance away. His name felt like a spotlight suddenly cast on him.

“Why else would you keep tagging along with Kinich?” Xilonen demanded, taking a step closer to Lyney.

At that, Lyney’s smirk faltered, replaced by something sharper. “Careful, Xilonen,” he warned. “You’re dangerously close to accusing me of something without a shred of evidence.”

“I don’t need evidence,” Xilonen snapped. “I’ve seen enough to know you’re trouble. You’ve been nothing but a distraction, and it’s only a matter of time before Kinich gets hurt because of you.”

The words hit harder than Kinich expected. He clenched his fists, his breath quickening as the argument escalated. The rising volume, the barbs flying back and forth—it all felt too familiar, too much like the fights he used to overhear when he was a child.

Lyney straightened, his usual composure cracking slightly. “You think I’m here to hurt him?” he asked, his voice colder now. “That’s rich coming from someone who seems more intent on driving him away with her self-righteousness.”

“At least I’m honest about what I think!” Xilonen shot back. “Unlike you, with your constant lies and manipulations.”

Kinich’s nails dug into his palms as the tension climbed. His gaze flicked to Chasca, who had stopped sketching, her face pale with concern. Ororon stood now, watching the argument with quiet intensity.

“You know what your problem is, Xilonen?” Lyney pressed, his voice rising to match hers. “You can’t handle the idea that someone might be here for reasons you don’t understand. Not everything is about you or your paranoia.”

“Paranoia?” Xilonen practically shouted. “You don’t even try to hide your smugness, your secrets! You walk around like you’re above us, like we’re all just pieces in your stupid game!”

Kinich flinched as the volume climbed higher, their voices cutting through him like shards of glass. He wanted to intervene, to say something, but the memories of his parents’ fights rooted him in place. The helplessness, the overwhelming noise—it was all too much.

“Maybe I am playing a game,” Lyney snapped, taking a step closer to her. “But guess what? It’s a game you’re losing because you can’t see past your own anger.”

“OH! Well, if you’re so trustworthy, where do you disappear in the middle of the night?” Xilonen spat, her words laced with venom.

Lyney’s jaw tightened. “I go to check up on my family,” he snapped back, his voice sharp.

Xilonen let out a bitter laugh, her eyes narrowing. “Family? Schemers like you? Does that mean you’re stealing from us to feed them?”

The words hit harder than she likely intended, cutting straight to a place Lyney had buried deep. His expression darkened. “I think you need to check your privilege,” he hissed, taking a step closer.

Xilonen’s sneer faltered, but Lyney pressed on, his tone low and simmering with anger. “Not everyone gets to live a life of sunshine and rainbows. Some of us had to claw and fight for everything we’ve got. Some of us didn’t grow up with everything handed to us on a silver platter, surrounded by adoration and hero worship. Some of us have lived a much harder life than you’ll ever understand, you judgmental, universe-saving, self-righteous bitch.”

Xilonen’s snarl deepened, but she instinctively took a step back, her composure cracking. “You—” she started, her voice trembling with fury.

“Enough!” Ororon’s deep voice cut through the argument like thunder.

Both Xilonen and Lyney froze, turning to look at him. Ororon rarely spoke, but when he did, it carried weight.

“This isn’t helping anyone,” he said firmly. His gaze shifted to Kinich, who was staring at the ground, his shoulders tense. “Look at him. You think this is what he needs right now?”

Xilonen’s anger faltered as her eyes landed on Kinich. Her expression shifted from fury to guilt in an instant. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Lyney glanced at Kinich as well, his earlier bravado melting away. He stepped back, his tone softer. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just… stop,” Chasca said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. She closed her notebook and stood, her calm demeanor cracking. “All of you. This isn’t who we’re supposed to be.”

Xilonen looked away, her arms crossing tightly over her chest. Lyney sighed, his usual smirk replaced by something heavier.

The group fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of the argument hanging over them like a storm cloud. Eventually, Xilonen muttered, “I’m sorry,” but it was clear who she was addressing, and it wasn’t Lyney.

Without another word, Kinich turned and walked away, needing space to breathe, to think. Lyney watched him go, his expression unreadable.

Xilonen rose from her seat and brushed past Lyney, her voice sharp and cutting. “This is your fault,” she hissed, her words barely audible but heavy with venom. Without another glance, she stormed away, her retreat punctuated by the sound of her angry footsteps fading into the distance.

Lyney stood there, frozen. Her words felt like a blade, each syllable slicing through his carefully constructed defenses. His smirk, his charm, his confidence—none of it could shield him from the truth embedded in her accusation. Maybe she was right. His guarded, enigmatic demeanor always made him an easy target for suspicion. He was used to it, but it didn’t hurt any less, especially now.

His gaze shifted to Kinich, who sat a short distance away, visibly shaken. Mualani had her arms wrapped around him, speaking softly. Lyney strained to catch her words, but all he could make out were fragments: “…it’s over… you’re safe… healing now.” Her voice was soothing, a balm to Kinich’s raw nerves.

The sight twisted something in Lyney’s chest. Guilt, sharp and unforgiving, clawed at him. This was his fault. Kinich had opened up to him, shared painful pieces of his past—and what had Lyney done? He’d argued with Kinich’s closest friends, driving a wedge between them when Kinich needed unity the most.

Lyney clenched his fists, his usual composure unraveling. He wanted to apologize, to say something, anything to make this right. But the sight of Kinich, huddled in Mualani’s arms, stopped him. He didn’t deserve to intrude on that moment, didn’t deserve the chance to make it better.

Instead, he turned away, his steps heavy as he moved to the edge of the clearing. He sat down, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and self-recrimination. For the first time in a long while, Lyney felt powerless, and it terrified him.

Chapter Text

Citlali had always been aware of the magician’s presence, even before she knew his name—Lyney. She’d felt it during the ritual to find the ancient name and even in quieter moments when she couldn’t quite place why the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The way he moved, the way his gaze lingered—Citlali didn’t trust him.

When Ororon began spending time with the ancient heroes, Citlali’s worry grew. She trusted Ororon with all her heart, but these heroes had their quirks, and Lyney—well, he was practically the poster boy for suspicion. She couldn’t sit idly by, not when her grandson might be at risk.

So she followed them.

Her skills were not on par with Lyney’s when it came to stealth, but through sheer determination (and a fair bit of luck), she managed to keep up without being caught.

This time was no different. She’d trailed them to the camp, staying hidden just outside the clearing.

The argument had started suddenly, sharp words echoing through the forest. Citlali peeked through the bushes to see Lyney and Xilonen nose to nose, their voices growing louder with each exchange.

“Who does he think he is?” she muttered, glaring at Lyney. Her grip tightened on the bark of a nearby tree as she watched the magician jab the air for emphasis, his words cutting.

Then her gaze landed on Kinich.

The young man was hunched over by the fire, his hands pressed tightly to his head. He wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t intervening. His shoulders trembled slightly as though he was trying to block out the rising volume of the argument.

Her chest ached. Citlali wanted to march into the clearing, grab Lyney by the ear, and tell him off for being so inconsiderate. Didn’t he realize what this was doing to Kinich? Didn’t any of them?

But before she could make a move, Ororon stepped forward, his voice booming through the camp.

“ENOUGH!”

The argument came to an abrupt halt.

Citlali’s heart swelled with pride as she watched her grandson stand tall, his presence commanding. That’s my boy, she thought with satisfaction.

Lyney’s expression faltered. His sharp tongue seemed to lose its edge as he glanced at Kinich, who still hadn’t moved from his spot. For a moment, Lyney’s usual confidence wavered, guilt flickering across his face.

Xilonen crossed her arms, her jaw tight, but she didn’t say anything.

“This isn’t helping anyone, Look at him. You think this is what he needs right now?”

Lyney stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. He said something quietly, his gaze fixed on Kinich.

Xilonen let out a heavy breath. “I'm sorry.” she muttered, though her tone lacked its usual venom.

As the group began to disperse, Citlali lingered in the shadows, her heart heavy. She hadn’t expected to see such raw vulnerability from Kinich—or that Ororon would be the one to pull the group back from the edge.

Still, her protective instincts flared. Lyney might have apologized, but Citlali wasn’t ready to let her guard down. For now, she’d stay close, keeping watch. Kinich didn’t deserve this kind of chaos, and she’d do whatever it took to make sure he wasn’t caught in the crossfire again.

---

This might have been an impulsive decision, but Citlali didn’t care. She had to act.

As the artificial moon cast its cold light over the camp, Citlali observed the sleeping heroes. Xilonen was nestled in the high branches of a tree, her tail flicking idly as she murmured in her sleep. Mualani was sprawled on a patch of moss, one arm wrapped protectively around Kinich. He, in turn, was curled up, his brow furrowed as though caught in the grip of a nightmare. A pang of sympathy touched her heart, but she pushed it aside.

Her focus landed on Lyney. He was perched near the edge of the camp, staring out into the dark woods with his back to the fire. Alone. Good.

She moved carefully, each step deliberate and soundless until—snap!—a twig cracked underfoot. Citlali froze, her breath catching as Xilonen stirred in her sleep, mumbling incoherently before settling again. Exhaling silently, she pressed on, finally stopping a few steps behind Lyney.

This was reckless. Risky. But there was no turning back now.

She lunged without warning, pinning him down before he could react. Lyney’s eyes shot open in alarm as she clamped her hand over his mouth, muffling his startled cry.

“Wha—mmph!” His muffled voice was quickly silenced as Citlali summoned her Cryo vision. Frost spread from her hands, locking him in place as icy tendrils crept up his legs and torso.

“Erosión antigua, nos permiten entrar en el espacio entre la vida y la muerte,” she intoned, her voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline.

The world around them warped and twisted, the camp dissolving into a swirl of mist and shadow. When the motion stilled, they stood in an otherworldly void. The ground shimmered with faint starlight, stretching endlessly in every direction. The air was thick with silence, pressing down on them like a heavy weight.

Lyney twisted against the ice, his sharp gaze darting around the strange expanse. “What did you just do?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the stillness.

Citlali stood tall, her expression hard as stone. “This is a pocket dimension—a place between life and death, where time holds no sway.” Her tone was cold, calculated. “I brought you here because you’re a danger to them. To Kinich. To all of them.”

“A danger?” Lyney’s voice rose, his incredulity tinged with anger. “You dragged me into this… this place because of some baseless paranoia?”

“Paranoia?” Citlali’s eyes blazed, her Cryo energy flaring in response. “Don’t insult me. I know your type—shady, secretive, always lurking in the shadows. You’ve done nothing but sow distrust since the moment you arrived.”

Lyney’s jaw tightened, his usual smirk replaced with a cold glare. “You think you know me? You think you understand why I’m here?”

“I don’t need to,” she snapped. “Your actions speak louder than any excuse you could come up with. You’re a manipulator, a liar. And I won’t let you endanger my family.”

The word family hit harder than she expected, echoing in the oppressive silence. Lyney’s expression faltered for just a moment, a crack in his defenses, before he scowled.

“You don’t trust me?” he hissed. “Fine. But don’t you dare pretend you’re protecting them. This is about you. About your fear. About your inability to accept that someone like me—someone you don’t control—could actually care about them.”

“You care?” she barked out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich, coming from someone who slinks around in the shadows, hiding secrets and lies.”

Lyney’s fists clenched, his body trembling against the ice. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed for the people I care about.”

“And I don’t care,” Citlali interrupted sharply. “Your sacrifices mean nothing if they put my grandson, or any of the others, at risk. I will protect them from you, no matter what it takes.”

Lyney’s voice dropped, his tone low and biting. “You think you’re a savior, Citlali? All I see is a woman who can’t let go of her own bitterness. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start casting judgment.”

The words stung, but Citlali refused to let them show. She stepped closer, the chill of her presence palpable. “This is your last warning, magician. Stay away from them. If I find you so much as breathing near Ororon or Kinich without good reason, you’ll wish this was the worst thing I’d done to you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she lifted her hand, summoning a portal back to the real world. The mist swirled again, the stars fading as the campfire reappeared. Lyney stumbled as the ice around him melted away, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

He glared at her, but she was already walking away, her heart pounding in her chest.

No, she wouldn’t trust him. And she wouldn’t apologize for protecting her own.

Chapter Text

"He's gone," Kinich said, his voice thick with sorrow as he sat near the burnt out campfire.

Xilonen, perched on a low tree branch, slid down with a bitter scoff. Her tail flicked behind her in irritation as she crossed her arms. "What did you expect? He probably ran back to his shitty family because he finally realized he can’t manipulate you anymore."

Kinich’s head shot up, his brows furrowed, and his fists clenched. He inhaled sharply, struggling to keep his temper in check before snapping, “Xilonen, do you ever shut up?”

Her ears perked in shock, and she narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

Kinich stood, turning to face her, his arms crossed tightly. His voice rose, the frustration and hurt evident. “He went back to his family because of YOU. Did you ever stop to think, for even a second, that maybe he was getting close to us because his family is all he’s ever had? Did you ever think he just wanted a meaningful relationship? Just like ME?”

Xilonen blinked, her tail stilling as his words began to sink in.

“And you know what else?” Kinich continued, his voice trembling. “Not everyone is lucky enough to have a family like you. Not everyone grows up surrounded by people who support them, who actually love them.” He took a shaky breath. “I told you about my childhood, Xilonen. About how I grew up trying to prove I didn’t need anyone. Lyney probably did the same, and for once, he was trying to be part of something bigger than himself. But you—you just kept pushing him away.”

Xilonen flinched at his words, her anger wavering. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Do you even realize how hard it was for him to stay here, knowing everyone looked at him like a threat?” Kinich’s voice softened slightly, but the edge remained. “You didn’t even give him a chance. You just assumed the worst, over and over again.”

The silence between them stretched, the crackle of the campfire the only sound. Xilonen lowered her gaze, her ears flattening against her head. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” Kinich interrupted, his voice sharp. “Didn’t mean to drive him away? Because that’s exactly what you did.”

The weight of Kinich’s words pressed on Xilonen’s chest, her anger replaced by a sinking feeling of guilt. She thought back to all the times she’d snapped at Lyney, her constant accusations, the venom in her tone whenever she spoke to him.

And yet, despite all of it, he stayed. He never lashed out—not like she did. He even went out of his way to help Kinich and the others, even if his methods were sometimes questionable.

“I…” Xilonen’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Kinich muttered, turning away from her. “Because you never gave him a chance.”

Xilonen sat down heavily on the ground, her tail curling around her as she stared at the campfire. Her mind raced, replaying every interaction she’d had with Lyney. The way she’d snapped at him during their first meeting. The times she’d accused him without evidence. And finally, the argument that sent him running back to his family.

Maybe… maybe she had been too harsh.

“I was trying to protect you,” she said quietly, her voice wavering. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Kinich glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. “Protecting me doesn’t mean tearing down someone else.”

Xilonen’s ears drooped as the guilt gnawed at her. “I need to apologize,” she muttered.

“You should,” Kinich said firmly, sitting back down near the fire. “But I don’t know if he’ll want to hear it.”

—

The sun shimmered over the canopy. Lyney pulled his hat over his head, Lynette walked in silence, her steps light and deliberate despite the mud. Lyney had left the camp hours ago.

Lyney exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. "I don’t know why I thought I could fit in with them," he muttered, more to himself than to Lynette.

She glanced at him, her sharp eyes catching the faint quiver in his voice. "You tried," she said simply.

"Tried and failed," Lyney replied bitterly, kicking at a loose rock. "I thought... I thought maybe they’d understand. Kinich, at least."

Lynette stopped walking, forcing him to pause. "Do you want to go back?" she asked, her voice neutral.

Lyney hesitated, the question hanging between them like the rain that refused to stop. "They don’t want me there," he said finally. "Xilonen made that pretty clear. And she’s not wrong to think that way."

Lynette tilted her head, studying him. "Since when do you care what others think?"

Her words stung, but Lyney couldn’t deny their truth. He had always prided himself on being untouchable, his charm and wit a shield against the world’s judgment. But this was different.

"Since Kinich," he admitted softly.

Lynette’s expression didn’t change, but her ears twitched slightly, a sign she was processing his words. "You like him," she stated.

Lyney gave a weak laugh. "You’re annoyingly perceptive, you know that?"

They started walking again, the sound of birds filling the silence between them.

"Do you think they’re right to distrust me?" Lyney asked after a while.

Lynette didn’t answer immediately. She was never one to rush her words. "You’ve made mistakes," she said eventually. "But so have they. Trust doesn’t come easily, Lyney. Not for you. Not for them."

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I just wanted to be seen as... more than some sly magician."

"You are more," Lynette said firmly. "But you can’t make them see it. They have to realize it on their own."

Lyney looked at her, surprised by the conviction in her tone. "Since when did you become the wise one?"

She smirked faintly. "Since you started sulking like a child."

He chuckled, the sound lightening the weight in his chest just a little.

“This is brilliant! Drama! What a stellar performance!” Lynette chirped in an unnaturally high tone.

“What's with the horrible Furina impression?” He said.

“It's telling you to drop the act. You’re Lyney the magician! Heir to the House of Hearth! Are you gonna let one sassy ocelot kick you down? If so, your’re a fucking joke.” Lynette leaned on the railing next to him.

The siblings stood there for a while. In the silence, Lyney allowed himself to reflect—not on the accusations or the anger, but on the connections he had made.

"Do you think they’ll forgive me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lynette placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch grounding him. "That’s not up to me," she said. "But if they’re worth it, they will."

Lyney nodded, the storm within him easing slightly. For now, it was enough to know he wasn’t facing it alone.

Chapter Text

Morning broke over the camp, golden sunlight filtering through the leaves and illuminating the still-sleepy faces of the ancient heroes. Kinich yawned loudly, stretching as he poked at the remains of the fire. Mualani sat cross-legged nearby, absently weaving flowers together, while Xilonen perched on her usual tree branch, her tail flicking irritably.

The quiet was shattered by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Oh, great,” Xilonen muttered, her ears twitching. “Just when I thought we’d get a peaceful morning.”

From the treeline, Lyney emerged, his signature smug smirk plastered on his face. He strolled into the camp with an almost theatrical air, clearly aware of the stares he was drawing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Xilonen grumbled, hopping down from the tree. She crossed her arms and planted herself squarely in Lyney’s path. “What are you doing back here?”

Before Lyney could respond, a new figure stepped out from behind him. A girl, arms crossed, matching his confident stance. Her dirty blond hair caught the sunlight, a dyed streak standing out against the natural tones.

Xilonen blinked, doing a double take. The resemblance was uncanny. “Oh no,” she muttered to herself. “This must be—”

“Hello,” the girl said, her tone calm and composed. “I am Lynette.”

Kinich, who had been mid-stretch, nearly fell over in surprise. “Wait, your sister?!”

“Brilliant deduction,” Lyney said with a dramatic wave of his hand. “We’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Xilonen rolled her eyes, already exasperated. “Why are you here, magician?”

Lyney turned to her, his smirk fading into a flat expression. “Save it. I’m not here for you.”

The camp fell silent for a beat, the tension broken only by Mualani stifling a giggle.

Xilonen’s tail twitched furiously. “Well, I’m not here for you either!” she snapped, turning away but throwing one last glare over her shoulder.

Lyney ignored her completely, walking straight up to Ororon, who was sitting on a log with a faraway look in his eyes. “I need to ask you something.”

Ororon blinked, startled, and looked up with wide eyes. He seemed surprised someone was actually talking to him. “Oh, uh, sure?”

“It’s about Citlali,” Lyney said bluntly. “She’s been threatening me, and I want to know if I should take her seriously or just chalk it up to her being overprotective.”

At this, Xilonen spun back around. “She threatened you? Good. Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Thanks for the unsolicited commentary, again,” Lyney said dryly.

Lynette, standing quietly beside him, suddenly tilted her head. “Do you always argue this much, or is this a special occasion?”

Mualani snorted, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. “I think it's just a them thing.” she whispered conspiratorially while pointing at Xilonen and Lyney.

Ororon finally cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “Citlali doesn’t make idle threats,” he said slowly. “If she warned you to stay away, she probably has her reasons. But...” He paused, as though choosing his words carefully. “She’s not unreasonable. If you haven’t done anything wrong, you have nothing to fear.”

“Reassuring,” Lyney muttered sarcastically.

Lynette, who had been examining the camp with mild disinterest, suddenly piped up. “This is a strange group. Very mismatched.”

“Thank you?” Kinich said uncertainty.

“It wasn’t a compliment,” she replied, deadpan, earning another stifled laugh from Mualani.

Xilonen groaned, throwing her hands up. “Oh, great. There are two of them now. This is my nightmare.”

“What happened to that apology?” Kinich spat.

“Absolutely not,” Xilonen retorted, her tail lashing as she climbed back onto her tree branch. “That was before Lyneys other personality showed up.”

Lynette glanced up at her brother. “Do you always leave this much chaos in your wake?”

“Of course,” Lyney replied with a mock bow. “It’s part of my charm.”

Kinich sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can we just get through one morning without an argument?”

Mualani patted him on the shoulder. “Not with this group,” she said cheerfully.

As the siblings settled into the camp, the group exchanged wary glances, each silently wondering what new complications they were in for with two magicians in their midst.

---

Lyney was unusually animated, practically bouncing with energy as he introduced his sister to the group. The flirty smile never left his face, his charm dialed up to an almost comical degree. Kinich couldn’t help but silently notice the difference in his demeanor—Lyney was always confident, yes, but this felt different. There was an almost desperate energy to him, something that didn’t quite match the easygoing, laid-back persona he usually exuded. He was masking something, Kinich could tell, but he didn't speak up.

Xilonen was, as usual, less than impressed. She crossed her arms, eyeing Lynette with suspicion. "So, this is your family, huh?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

Lyney gave her an exaggerated shrug, clearly unfazed. "Yes, my dear, meet Lynette, the one person who’s stuck with me longer than anyone else.” He shot a grin at Lynette, who stood beside him with her arms crossed, looking far more composed than her brother. "Not everyone gets the privilege of knowing my charming side."

Lynette, who had been silently watching the interaction, rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Lyney’s grin widened, clearly not bothered by her remark. “Ah, but it’s what I do best.”

Kinich, who had been quietly observing the interaction, couldn’t help but notice how exaggerated Lyney’s behavior was. He was putting on a show, but for what purpose? It wasn’t like him to act so over-the-top unless he was trying to distract from something. But what was it? Kinich didn’t know, but there was something about this whole exchange that didn’t sit right with him.

Xilonen, noticing Kinich’s quiet observation, scoffed. “What’s the catch, Lyney? You’ve got us all curious now.”

Lyney gave her a pointed look, his tone still teasing, but with an edge. “Catch? Why does everyone think there’s a catch? Sometimes a family visit is just... a family visit.” He glanced at Lynette again, a silent understanding passing between them.

Lynette, without missing a beat, added, “I’m only here temporarily. I have to return to Freminet after a short while.” Her voice was calm, collected, unlike her brother’s theatrics. She seemed to be the more grounded of the two.

Xilonen raised an eyebrow. “Oh? So, we’re just a pit stop on your way back to Freminet?”

Lynette nodded slightly. “Something like that.”

Kinich, still observing Lyney, noted how his expression shifted when Lynette spoke. It was subtle, but for a moment, the flamboyant bravado disappeared, and something more vulnerable flashed in his eyes before it was quickly hidden behind his usual cocky smirk. Kinich couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about that small moment felt... telling. Lyney was trying to keep up appearances, but there was something he wasn’t saying.

Xilonen, seemingly bored with the exchange, turned her back and walked off. "I’m watching you, Lyney. Don’t think you can pull anything past me.”

“Save it, Xilonen,” Lyney called after her with a wink. “I’m not here for you.”

Kinich couldn’t help but feel a little curious as he watched Lyney. There was definitely more going on beneath the surface, but for now, it seemed like it would stay hidden. He didn’t press the issue, though. It wasn’t the right time yet to ask. For now, all he could do was observe and wait.

The camp settled into a quiet lull as everyone prepared for the night, but Kinich’s thoughts lingered. Lyney’s behavior was shifting in ways he wasn’t used to, and it was clear that something was troubling him. Kinich didn’t want to pry, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Lyney was playing a part in a larger story—one that wasn’t as lighthearted as he made it appear.

---

As night settled over the camp, the crackling of the fire was the only sound that broke the stillness. Lyney and Kinich sat near the edge of the clearing, speaking in quiet tones. They had talked about everything and nothing—trivial matters at first, then slowly easing into more meaningful topics. Lyney, for once, seemed more relaxed than usual, as if the presence of his sister had taken some weight off his shoulders.

Kinich had learned more about Lyney’s complicated family dynamics, how he had grown up in a world of performances and expectations, always expected to put on a show. It wasn’t something Lyney often talked about, but tonight, with the fire casting shadows on his face, he seemed more open, more human than Kinich had seen before.

"Sometimes, it feels like I’m just... living for the audience," Lyney said, his tone more serious now, a rare moment of vulnerability. "I just wish I had more time with you. Like, alone."

Kinich nodded, understanding more than Lyney could know. Sometimes, people needed to just be, without the weight of others' expectations.

As they continued to talk, Kinich couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in Lyney’s behavior. The usual air of light-hearted teasing was absent. It was as though, for once, he wasn’t performing.

The conversation lingered in the comfortable silence of the evening, and Kinich had almost forgotten about everything else—until he noticed movement in the shadows at the edge of the camp. He glanced over briefly but dismissed it as nothing more than a trick of the firelight or some small animal in the underbrush. His focus returned to Lyney.

Lyney, however, was still unusually animated in their conversation. His gestures were more dramatic, and his smile was brighter than usual. Kinich, engrossed in the conversation, didn't think twice about it. He was getting more used to Lyney’s unpredictable nature and assumed this was just another side of the trickster he’d come to know.

Unbeknownst to Kinich, though, Lyney’s behavior had subtly shifted. He was still charming, still confident, but there was an underlying edge to his playfulness. His eyes gleamed with a mischievous light as he leaned back casually, the faintest hint of a secretive smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Then, in the shadows, Citlali was crouched, observing from behind the bushes. She had been trying to eavesdrop, hoping to get a better sense of what was going on. But the moment she made the mistake of letting her presence be known, Lyney caught sight of her. Without a second thought, he smirked to himself, and with a quick, almost imperceptible gesture, he gave her a middle finger.

The moment passed quickly, and Lyney didn’t give it a second thought. He returned to his conversation with Kinich as though nothing had happened, though there was a trace of satisfaction in the way his grin widened.

Citlali, having been caught off guard, quickly stepped back into the shadows, her surprise barely visible to anyone. She didn’t try to make her presence known again, retreating into the darkness, unsure of what to make of the playful but pointed gesture. But Lyney, of course, remained completely unfazed.

Kinich, completely unaware of the subtle exchange, smiled and laughed lightly at something Lyney had said. "That’s one way to look at it," he said, his attention fully on Lyney. "You know, you’re surprisingly good at this serious talk thing. I didn’t think you had it in you."

Lyney’s grin deepened, his eyes twinkling. "You don’t get to be this charming without a few tricks up my sleeve," he replied smoothly, his voice laced with that trademark flirty charm.

The fire crackled between them as they sat in companionable silence for a while, the cool night air sweeping through the camp. Kinich felt a sense of peace in this moment, the lightness of their conversation contrasting with the heavier topics they’d touched on earlier. He still hadn’t noticed the small figure retreating into the shadows, and Lyney didn’t feel the need to mention it.

For now, everything was easy. Lyney had a feeling though, it wasn't gonna be easy for long.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Lyney disappeared, vanishing like a magician performing his final act. They had traveled back together before the whole capitano incident and the pilgrimage, but the moment they returned to the city, Lyney slipped away without a word.

Kinich thought little of it at first—Lyney wasn’t exactly the type to announce his every move. But as the days stretched on, the absence felt heavier. The air around him buzzed with congratulations and praise, every stranger eager to laud him as the champion of the pilgrimage. The attention was exhausting, like a constant spotlight he couldn’t escape.

Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the streets of the city began to quiet, Kinich found himself drawn to the heroes’ memorial. It had always been a place of comfort, its silence offering a reprieve from the noise of the world. He liked to imagine the spirits of the fallen watching over him, their presence a gentle reminder that he wasn’t alone.

But tonight, he wasn’t the only one seeking solace.

Lyney knelt on the grass before the memorial, his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. His lips moved in a quiet murmur, though Kinich couldn’t make out the words. The sight made him pause. This wasn’t the Lyney he knew—the sharp-tongued magician who always seemed to have the upper hand. This was someone unguarded.

“Lyney,” Kinich called softly as he approached.

Lyney startled, his head snapping up. His violet eyes met Kinich’s for a fleeting moment, and Kinich thought he saw something vulnerable flash across his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a familiar, cocky smirk.

“Champion,” Lyney greeted, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence? Come to gloat, or are you just here to brood?”

Kinich frowned, crossing his arms. “What are you doing here?”

Lyney looked off put for some reason, but he didn't let the expression linger too long. “Same as you, I imagine. Paying my respects, clearing my mind, taking in the scenery...” He gestured vaguely to the memorial behind him.

“Right,” Kinich said flatly, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe him.

Lyney laughed softly, a sound that felt lighter than it should. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Kinich stepped closer, his gaze steady. “You disappeared for a week without telling anyone. People were worried.”

“Were they?” Lyney asked, arching an eyebrow. “I can’t imagine grumpy Xilonen clutching her pearls at my disappearance.” Lyney stepped closer. “I believe it was just you, mon cher.”

Kinich’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“Relax, champion,” Lyney continued, his voice dipping into a teasing lilt. “I didn’t mean to ruin your parade. You’ve had a busy week, haven’t you? All those admirers lining up to sing your praises. It must be exhausting being so... adored.”

Kinich felt his cheeks warm, though he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or something else. “You’re deflecting.”

Lyney’s smile widened, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, taking a step closer. “Or maybe I’m just enjoying this little game of ours. You do like games, don’t you, Kinich?”

The proximity made Kinich’s pulse quicken. Lyney always had a way of getting under his skin, but this felt different. There was an edge to his words, a tension that lingered in the air between them.

“I don’t have time for your games,” Kinich said finally, his voice steady despite the flicker of unease in his chest.

“Pity,” Lyney said, his tone light but his gaze lingering. “You’re quite good at them.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet of the memorial wrapped around them like a shroud, amplifying the unspoken words hanging in the air.

Finally, Lyney stepped back, his expression softening. “You’ve had a long week, Kinich. Maybe you should get some rest.”

Kinich watched as Lyney turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the dim light of the city. A faint breeze carried the scent of citrus and cedar, a reminder of the presence that had slipped away once again.

As the silence returned, Kinich exhaled, his thoughts a jumble of questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

Kinich remained at the memorial, his thoughts a jumbled mess as he tried to sort through everything that had happened in the past weeks. He traced the edges of the engraved names with his fingers, their permanence a sharp contrast to the chaos in his heart.

A faint sound behind him broke the silence. He turned, expecting the usual quiet of the night—but Lyney was there, not leaning casually or keeping his distance this time. Instead, he stood only a few paces away, hands in his pockets, watching Kinich with an expression that was far too serious for the usually smug magician.

“You came back?,” Kinich said, his voice edged with surprise.

Lyney shrugged, stepping closer. “I never left.”

Kinich blinked, unsure how to respond. “Why?”

Lyney tilted his head, a playful curve tugging at his lips. “You seemed like you needed company. I couldn’t possibly leave you to your brooding—what kind of friend would that make me?”

Kinich scoffed, leaning back against the memorial. “Friend, huh? Is that what we are now?”

Lyney grinned, the familiar teasing lilt returning to his tone. “Would you prefer ‘frenemies’? It has a nice ring to it.”

Kinich gave him a flat look but didn’t respond, which only seemed to encourage Lyney. The magician closed the remaining distance between them, moving to stand just a step away.

“Truthfully,” Lyney said, his voice softening, “I’m not great at leaving things unsaid. And you... you’re not easy to walk away from.”

Kinich froze, caught off guard by the unexpected vulnerability in Lyney’s words. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lyney raised a hand, stopping him.

“Let me finish,” Lyney murmured, his violet eyes holding Kinich’s gaze. “You’ve been on my mind, and for someone who lives by misdirection and illusions, that’s... inconvenient.”

Kinich frowned, unsure whether to be flattered or annoyed. “So I’m an inconvenience now?”

Lyney’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “The most intriguing kind.”

The space between them felt charged, the air thick with something unspoken. Lyney’s usual confidence wavered slightly as he reached out, brushing his fingers against Kinich’s wrist. It was a light touch, hesitant, but it sent Kinich’s heart racing all the same.

“You’re different,” Lyney said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Grounded. Honest. Everything I’m not.”

Kinich’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, trying to steady himself. “You’re deflecting again.”

“Maybe I am,” Lyney admitted, his tone softer now. “But you don’t make it easy to stay detached.”

Kinich turned back to him, their gazes locking once more. Lyney’s face was closer now, his usual smirk replaced by an open, almost fragile expression.

“Kinich,” Lyney said, his voice barely audible, “I really do love you-”

Before Lyney could finish, Kinich acted on impulse. He leaned in, his lips brushing Lyney’s in a tentative kiss. For a heartbeat, everything stilled—the weight of the past weeks, the noise of the world, even the air between them seemed to pause. Lyney’s lips were soft, the faint taste of strawberry lingering from some candy he must’ve had earlier.

Kinich hesitated, pulling back slightly as if waiting for a reaction. His breath mingled with Lyney’s, the closeness making his pulse race. Lyney didn’t move at first, his wide eyes searching Kinich’s face, but then he responded, closing the gap again. This time, it was Lyney who deepened the kiss, his hands moving to rest lightly on Kinich’s shoulders.

The kiss was slow and unsure, as if both were exploring unfamiliar territory. But with every passing second, the uncertainty began to fade, replaced by something warmer

When they finally parted, Lyney let out a quiet laugh, his forehead resting against Kinich’s.

“Well,” Lyney murmured, a hint of his usual playfulness returning, “I didn’t see that coming.”

Kinich looked away, seemingly embarrassed, his cheeks still flushed. “You’re not the only one full of surprises.”

Lyney chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against Kinich’s hand. For once, neither of them felt the need to say anything more.

Chapter Text

The night sky was painted in soft blues and blacks, the glow of the moon dipping below the horizon. The cool breeze rustled through the trees as Kinich walked slowly, taking in the calmness of the world around him. They were back home now, finally free from the weight of their travels, the war, and all the tension that had been building in the past few weeks. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could breathe.

Beside him, Lyney walked at a slower pace, his usual playful banter subdued for once. It was rare to see him so quiet, but today it felt like the world was slowing down, allowing them to just... exist. The sounds of the valley, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves, were the only things that filled the silence between them.

Kinich glanced over at him. "You’ve been quieter than usual," he commented, trying to break the peaceful stillness.

Lyney turned his head and flashed a grin, but it wasn’t the usual smug one that Kinich had grown used to. This one was softer, almost shy. "Just enjoying the calm," he said with a slight shrug. "You don’t get this very often, do you?"

Kinich nodded, looking ahead again as they walked. "Not enough. There’s always something demanding my attention."

"Like me?" Lyney teased lightly, his voice carrying a hint of mischief.

Kinich rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a smile. "You’ve definitely been demanding," he admitted, his tone playful.

They continued walking, their footsteps steady in the quiet evening, until they reached a small clearing. The soft glow of fireflies flickered around them, adding a magical touch to the moment. Kinich stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked out at the view.

"It's beautiful here," he murmured, feeling the weight of everything that had happened finally lift from his shoulders.

Lyney stepped beside him, his expression thoughtful. "It’s not the view I’m looking at," he said finally, his voice soft.

Kinich turned his head slightly, meeting Lyney’s gaze. There was something in his eyes, something that Kinich couldn’t quite place. "What are you looking at, then?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Lyney didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he took a small step closer, the distance between them shrinking. Kinich could feel the air shifting, the easy camaraderie between them taking on a more intimate weight.

Lyney smiled and looked into Kinich’s eyes. “You.” He said simply.

Kinich felt his heart flutter unexpectedly. The quiet between them was so rare and yet so perfect. There was something different about this, something that made everything feel more real.

"You’re good at making moments feel important," Kinich murmured, unsure of how to keep his voice steady. His heart was racing, but the stillness of the evening made everything feel more significant.

The air was thick with unspoken words, the space between them charged with a quiet intensity. Lyney reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Kinich’s ear, his fingers grazing lightly against his skin. The touch was soft but deliberate, the warmth of Lyney’s hand lingering longer than it needed to.

Kinich’s breath caught in his throat, the world around them narrowing, focusing entirely on the moment they were sharing.

Lyney didn’t say anything. He didn’t have the words. Instead, he leaned forward slowly, his movements deliberate and soft. He didn’t want to rush anything, not this time.

Kinichs breath hitched as Lyney moved closer, and he paused. Their faces were so close now, so incredibly close, that Kinich could feel the warmth of Lyney’s breath, could see the softness in his eyes that wasn’t typically there.

Then, instead of the kiss he had been expecting, something else happened. With a quiet sigh, he leaned in and placed a gentle, almost reverent kiss on Kinich’s cheek, his lips lingering there for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Kinich stood still for a moment, his eyes closing as if the touch had rooted him to the spot. When Lyney pulled away, he didn’t move far. Their faces were still close, their bodies still drawn to each other in a quiet understanding.

"Kinich," Lyney whispered, his voice barely audible, but there was something in it—something vulnerable that Kinich hadn’t expected to hear from him. ‘I’m sorry that we had to meet like that.”

The stars above them twinkled softly, the world quiet and still. For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them savoring the simplicity of the moment, the connection they had shared, and the quiet joy that filled the space between them.

“It's ok.”

—

The restaurant buzzed with its usual energy—plates clattering, voices rising in laughter, and the faint strains of music drifting from the corner. It was their usual spot, a place where Mualani’s laughter was loud, Ororon’s appetite insatiable, and Chasca always managed to sneak a second dessert without paying for it.

Xilonen sat at the edge of the booth, her fingers drumming against the table. Her eyes flickered to Kinich, seated directly across from her, and Lyney, who leaned casually on the booth beside him. The magician’s presence was as unwelcome as ever, but it was Kinich’s behavior that made her stomach churn.

Kinich had always been composed, reserved. Yet now, he seemed lighter, more... open. And all of it was because of Lyney, who had a knack for sidling into places where he didn’t belong—especially Kinich’s personal space.

“Kinich,” Xilonen said suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter.

Everyone paused, their attention snapping to her. Mualani raised an eyebrow, mid-sip of her drink.

“What?” Kinich asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

Xilonen rose from her seat, motioning toward the hallway that led to the restrooms. “Can we talk? Alone.”

Kinich blinked, his expression shifting into mild confusion. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

The tension at the table was palpable. Mualani glanced between the two, her usual playfulness replaced by curiosity. Lyney, of course, smirked, leaning back in his seat as if settling in for a show.

“Go on, Kinich,” Lyney said with a teasing lilt. “Wouldn’t want to keep Xilonen waiting.”

Kinich shot Lyney a brief, exasperated look before sighing and pushing himself up. “Fine.”

The two of them walked toward the hallway, Xilonen leading the way. She stopped at a quiet corner, far enough from the table that their voices wouldn’t carry but close enough to still feel the weight of the group’s eyes.

“What is it?” Kinich asked, crossing his arms. His tone wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t patient either.

Xilonen turned to face him, her own arms mirroring his as she leaned closer. “I need to know what’s going on with you and Lyney.”

Kinich’s expression darkened. “You dragged me out here for that?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Because whatever this... thing is between you two, it’s starting to affect you. You’re different, Kinich. And not in a good way.”

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “Different how?”

“You’re more distracted,” Xilonen said, her voice rising slightly. “More reckless. Letting him get closer than anyone else ever has. And you’re defending him, Kinich, even though you barely know him!”

Kinich scoffed, clearly offended by her inability to trust him to make his own decisions. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s my business because I care about you!” Xilonen shot back. “And I don’t trust him. He’s sneaky, manipulative, and—”

“And maybe I don’t care about your distrust!” Kinich interrupted, his voice sharp. “Maybe I trust him because he’s earned it. Did you think of that?”

Xilonen blinked, taken aback. That was another thing that ticked her off, he was much more defensive of his decisions.
“Earned it?” she repeated, her voice quieter but no less intense. “How? By sweet-talking you? By brushing off every bit of suspicion with a smile?”

Kinich’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Xilonen demanded. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s playing you. And you’re letting him.”

Kinich took a step closer, his voice low but firm. “I’m not an idiot, Xilonen. I know who he is. I know what he’s capable of. But I also know he’s more than what you think.”

Xilonen’s chest tightened, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re blind,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re letting him get too close, and it’s going to cost you.”

“What about you?” He deflected. “You were always teasing me about liking him and whispering “OOH someones got a crushhhh” but now, you hate him? Why?”

Xilonen’s eyes narrowed, her voice turning sharp. “Because I didn’t know him then. I didn’t know what he was capable of. Sure, it was fun to joke around when he was just some mysterious magician with a smirk and a deck of cards. But now?” She took a step closer, her tone growing colder. “Now I see the cracks. The lies. The way he always seems to be ten steps ahead, like he’s playing some game no one else knows about.”

Her voice dropped to a near whisper, trembling with emotion. “I teased you because I thought it was harmless. But this isn’t harmless, Kinich. He’s not harmless.”

Kinich’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. “You’re wrong,” he said firmly. “Lyney’s not some villain lurking in the shadows. He’s complicated, sure, but he’s also human. You’re just refusing to see it.”

“Human?” Xilonen scoffed, throwing up her hands. “You think a few smiles and a sob story make him human? Wake up, Kinich! People like him survive by being one step ahead, by manipulating everyone around them. He’s not your friend—he’s just good at pretending to be.”

Kinich stepped forward, his voice rising. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t thought about it every second since he showed up? But he’s done more than pretend, Xilonen. He’s proven himself in ways that matter, and I trust him.”

“And that trust is going to get you hurt,” Xilonen snapped, her voice cracking. “I can’t stand by and watch you throw yourself into the fire for someone like him.”

“Then don’t,” Kinich said, his tone cold and final. “I don’t need you to stand by me, Xilonen. I need you to respect that this is my choice, not yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, the tension between them thick and suffocating. Xilonen stared at him, her face a mix of anger and something softer—hurt, maybe. For a moment, it looked like she might say something else, but instead, she turned away, her shoulders rigid.

“Fine,” she said, her voice low and bitter. “Do whatever you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Without another word, she walked back toward the group, leaving Kinich standing there, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t call after her. Instead, he stared at the ground, her words replaying in his mind, gnawing at the fragile certainty he had clung to.

Chapter Text

Citlali had been tracking him for days.

Lyney had grown too comfortable in his new role—too sure of himself. He’d charmed everyone—especially Kinich—but Citlali wasn’t fooled. She had seen men like him before, always wearing the mask of a charming illusionist, hiding whatever darker motives lurked beneath. She would not let him manipulate Kinich. Not like this. Not on her watch.

Tonight, she would confront him.

She stood in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. The dark alley behind the market was quiet, save for the occasional flutter of distant wings. Citlali could feel her pulse quickening, the weight of her resolve pushing her forward. She was ready to make her move.

But before she could step out, a voice broke through the silence.

“Choose your next move very wisely.”

Citlali froze.

The Knave.

She turned, eyes narrowing as she saw the woman standing at the far end of the alley. Arlecchino's crimson gaze gleamed in the dim light, her eerie presence hanging in the air like a heavy fog. She was waiting, poised, watching Citlali with that unsettling look in her eyes.

“What do you want?” Citlali demanded, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

Arlecchino narrowed her eyes. “What do I want? You’re the one here, threatening Lyney.”

Citlali clenched her fists. “He’s a threat to Ororon. To Kinich. And I’m not going to let him tear everything apart just because you’ve decided to protect him.”

Arlecchino’s eyes darkened. “Protect him?” Her voice was low, barely a whisper, but it made the air around them feel heavy. “You think you know him, but you don’t. And you think you can just walk up and threaten him without consequence?”

Citlali’s chest tightened, but she held her ground. “I’ll do what it takes to keep him away from my friends. Whatever it costs.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, Arlecchino took a slow step forward, her movements impossibly graceful. Her piercing gaze never faltered, but the air seemed to grow colder with every inch she closed.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, Citlali,” she murmured, her eyes locking with hers.

Citlali felt a shiver run down her spine, but she refused to look away. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Arlecchino didn’t respond. Instead, she raised a hand—slowly, deliberately—and placed it on Citlali’s shoulder.

The moment her fingers made contact, the world around Citlali seemed to shatter. It was as though the very ground beneath her feet had crumbled, and she felt an immediate, suffocating weight settle over her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The entire world stilled, and a feeling of pure dread washed over her like a tide.

Citlali's pulse raced, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't budge. Her legs felt heavy, as though they were trapped in concrete, her body completely immobilized. The silence pressed down on her, suffocating, and the air felt too thick to draw in a breath. She was paralyzed, utterly helpless, surrounded by an oppressive darkness.

But through the crushing weight of the dread, there was one thing that stood out above all else: Arlecchino. The woman just stood there, watching her, her expression unreadable, like a predator waiting for its prey to finally collapse. The crimson moon shone behind her, casting an eerie glow upon them.

Citlali tried to speak, but her voice felt muffled, as though the very sound of her thoughts was being suffocated. Her throat burned as she tried to cry out, but no words escaped.

Arlecchino approached her slowly, looking down at her with a suffering gaze, she then placed a hand firmly on her shoulder.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the dread started to fade, replaced by an unnerving calm. She felt a jolt, and suddenly, the world snapped back into place.

She was standing in the alley again, gasping for air. The weight on her chest had lifted, but the fear lingered in the pit of her stomach, gnawing at her insides.

Arlecchino was still there, her hand now slowly withdrawing from Citlali's shoulder. Her expression was the same, but there was something sharper in her eyes, something that made Citlali’s heart race even faster.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you leave with your life,” Arlecchino said, her voice soft but laced with venom. “But remember this, great shaman: you are not in control here. You can’t stop what’s coming, no matter how hard you try.”

Citlali opened her mouth to respond, but her words caught in her throat. The raw fear that lingered from the experience was overwhelming. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but all she could do was nod.

Arlecchino’s smile returned, cold and cruel. “You’ve been warned. Don’t make the same mistake again.”

With that, Arlecchino turned on her heel and walked away, vanishing into the night.

Citlali stood there for a long moment, her legs trembling beneath her. Her mind was still reeling from the experience—her body had felt frozen, trapped in a space where there was no escape, no control.

Citlali took a shaky breath, forcing herself to steady her nerves. She had to tell someone. She had to stay focused, no matter how scared she was. Because if Arlecchino was right, and she was truly outmatched... then Kinich’s fate, and the group's future, were more fragile than ever.

Maybe Lyney wasn't the real threat here. Maybe his connections were the real threat.

—

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the canyon, painting the ground in patches of gold and brown. Citlali had been walking around Xilonens workshop anxiously, her silence uncharacteristic. Normally, she was the one to fill the air with sharp commentary or observations, but today she seemed lost in thought, her shoulders tense and her hands clenched at her sides.

“Alright, spill it,” Xilonen said finally, stopping in her tracks and crossing her arms. “You’ve been acting weird all day. What’s going on?”

Citlali slowed to a halt but didn’t turn around immediately. Her head dipped slightly, and she seemed to be wrestling with herself, as though weighing the consequences of her next words.

“It’s about Lyney,” she said at last, her tone measured but heavy.

Xilonen groaned. “Oh, what now? Did he say something to piss you off again? Or maybe you’re still mad about—”

“It’s not about that,” Citlali cut her off sharply, turning to face her. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes carried a strange mix of anger and unease.

Xilonen blinked at her sudden seriousness. “Okay... so what is it, then?”

Citlali took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to the forest floor as if she couldn’t bear to look Xilonen in the eye. “He’s not who he says he is. He’s dangerous.”

Xilonen scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, no kidding. I’ve been saying that for weeks. Welcome to the club.”

“No,” Citlali said, her voice low and firm. “You don’t understand. He’s connected to the Fatui.”

The words hit like a thunderclap. Xilonen’s confident smirk disappeared, replaced by a sharp, incredulous glare. “What?”

“You heard me,” Citlali said, her tone unwavering despite the tension in her posture. “He’s working with them. Or for them. Either way, he’s dangerous.”

Xilonen took a step closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “And how exactly do you know this? Did you overhear him? Did he slip up?”

Citlali hesitated, her hands twitching at her sides. “No,” she admitted. “It’s... it’s not like that. Arlecchino told me.”

The name sent a shiver down Xilonen’s spine, her expression darkening. “Arlecchino?”

“Yes,” Citlali said, her voice tightening. “She told me. She... showed me things. She said Lyney is one of her pawns. He’s been working for her, Xilonen. All this time.”

Xilonen’s hands curled into fists, her lips pressing into a thin line. “And you’re just telling me this now? After everything?”

“It’s not that simple!” Citlali snapped, stepping forward. “You think I wanted to know this? You think I wanted to see—” She broke off, her voice catching. For a moment, her mask of anger slipped, revealing something more fearful beneath.

Xilonen stared at her, trying to piece together the storm of emotions playing out on Citlali’s face. “You’re scared,” she realized, her tone softening.

“Of course I’m scared!” Citlali spat, her voice trembling. “Do you know what it’s like to be trapped in that... that place? To have her watching you, knowing she could destroy you with a snap of her fingers?”

Xilonen’s expression faltered, her earlier skepticism giving way to concern. “Citlali...”

“She made it clear, Xilonen,” Citlali continued, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “Lyney isn’t just some cocky magician playing tricks for fun. He’s dangerous. He’s part of something bigger, something that could destroy all of us.”

Xilonen let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of her neck as she processed the revelation. “But why would Arlecchino tell you this? What does she gain by outing Lyney?”

“I don’t know,” Citlali admitted, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe she wanted to scare me. Maybe she wanted me to warn you. Or maybe she’s playing her own game, and we’re just pieces on her board.”

They stood there in silence for a long moment, the weight of Citlali’s words pressing down on them like a storm cloud.

Finally, Xilonen spoke, her voice laced with determination. “We need to talk to Kinich.”

Citlali’s head snapped up, her eyes widening. “No,” she said firmly. “Not yet. He’s already too close to Lyney. If we tell him now, he’ll just defend him.”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Xilonen asked, her frustration bubbling to the surface again.

Citlali’s gaze hardened. “We watch him. We figure out what he’s really up to. And if he tries anything—anything at all—I’ll deal with it.”

Xilonen frowned, her instincts urging her to argue, but the raw determination in Citlali’s eyes stopped her. Instead, she nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But we’re not doing this alone. The others deserve to know.”

Citlali didn’t respond, her jaw tightening as she turned away and started walking again. In her heart, she knew Xilonen was right, but the idea of confronting Lyney—or worse, being confronted by him—sent a chill down her spine.

—

The marketplace buzzed with life, vibrant and warm under the midday sun. The smell of roasted corn and freshly cut fruit wafted through the air, but Xilonen’s thoughts were far from the cheerful scene around her. She spotted Chasca standing at a small vendor’s stall, casually chatting with the seller as if the world hadn’t just tilted on its axis.

Xilonen strode up to her, the urgency in her steps betraying her calm facade. “Chasca,” she said sharply.

Chasca turned, holding up a ripe guava with a bright smile. “Xilo! You’ve got to try this one—the sweetest Quenepa Berries in the city. I already haggled the price down—”

Xilonen interrupted, her voice tight. “We need to talk. Now.”

The smile slipped from Chasca’s face, replaced by mild curiosity. “Alright,” she said, setting the fruit back down. “What’s got you so wound up?”

“Not here.” Xilonen grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her away from the bustling crowd, ignoring Chasca’s murmured protests. She didn’t stop until they reached the shade of a quiet alleyway, the noise of the market reduced to a distant hum.

“What is this about?” Chasca asked, crossing her arms.

Xilonen hesitated for a moment, her gaze darting to the ground as she gathered her thoughts. Finally, she looked up, meeting Chasca’s eyes with an intensity that couldn’t be ignored. “It’s about Lyney,” she said firmly.

Chasca sighed. “What about him?”

Xilonen took a deep breath. “He’s... connected to the Fatui,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “He works for them.”

Chasca’s expression didn’t waver. She tilted her head slightly, her tone as calm as if Xilonen had told her the weather. “Okay. And?”

Xilonen blinked, stunned by her nonchalance. “And? Chasca, he’s working for the Fatui! The same organization that—”

“—helped save our nation?” Chasca cut in smoothly, her voice cool. “The same people who sent aid when no one else would? Yeah, I know who they are.”

Xilonen’s frustration flared, her voice rising. “How can you say that? Do you even hear yourself? They’re manipulators, Chasca. They don’t just give without expecting something in return. The Tsaritsa already sent operatives down for the gnosis in exchange for saving our nation! They-”

“And yet, we’re still here, aren’t we?” Chasca shot back, her tone sharp now. “Our people are alive. Our homes are rebuilt. If the Fatui were planning something, don’t you think we’d have seen it by now?”

Xilonen shook her head, stepping closer. “You’re being naive. Lyney isn’t some innocent bystander. He’s in deep with them, and he’s lying to all of us. Don’t you care about that?”

Chasca’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. “Of course I care. But I also care about facts, Xilo, not paranoia. What has Lyney actually done to make you think he’s a threat?”

“He doesn’t belong here,” Xilonen snapped, her voice trembling with anger. “He’s playing some game, and Kinich—”

“Ah,” Chasca interrupted, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “So this is about Kinich.”

Xilonen froze, her jaw clenching. “This isn’t about him.”

“Really?” Chasca leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re just upset that Kinich knows him more than you do.”

The words cut deep, and Xilonen took a step back, her expression hardening. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair,” Chasca said, her voice soft but pointed, “is you expecting everyone to share your paranoia. Lyney hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him. Until he does, I’m not going to treat him like an enemy. I'm a peacemaker, Xilo. If he doesnt start a fight, why should I hold him liable?”

Xilonen stared at her, anger and disbelief swirling in her chest. “You’re making a mistake,” she said quietly.

“Maybe,” Chasca admitted, pushing off the wall and brushing past Xilonen. “But so far, I’m not the one who’s alienating the people who actually care about me.”

“He doesn't care about me.” She retorted, crossing her arms.

“Yes he does!” She threw her hands around Xilonens arms. “That's why he only started yelling back at you, when you slandered his family! That's why he helped us— helped ME get my ancient name back! And I guarantee you, being a part of the Fatui was not his choice.” She turned on her heel, looking at Xilonen once more. “I'm disappointed, Xilo. You were the last person I expected to judge people based on titles.” She walked away without turning back a second time.

Xilonen turned to watch her walk away, her fists clenched at her sides. For the first time, the weight of her fears felt unbearable.

Chapter Text

The night of the celebration was in full swing. The village square teemed with life as the heroes, elders, and tribespeople gathered under the glowing torches and vibrant decorations. Normally, this event marked the end of the pilgrimage, a time to honor tradition and unity. But tonight was different. This time, they were also celebrating the victory over the abyss—a triumph that had brought peace to their lands.

As the champion, Kinich found himself at the center of it all. Whether he liked it or not, all eyes were on him.

Elders and warriors approached him in waves, draping him in intricate beads and brightly colored wristbands, their praises unending. “Such bravery!” “A true champion!” they exclaimed, their voices ringing with pride. Kinich smiled politely, nodding at their words of admiration. In truth, it was overwhelming. He had played such a small part in the victory they celebrated, yet they lauded him as if he had led the charge himself.

It was exhausting, and he knew this was just the beginning.

An older woman made her way toward him, her face alight with joy. Kinich struggled to place her as she approached, her warm familiarity triggering a faint recognition he couldn’t quite pin down.

“Kinich!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with affection as she pulled him into a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled, doing his best to mirror her enthusiasm.

“I remember when you were just a tiny baby,” she said, her voice rising with excitement. “Now look at you! So big and strong, and a champion! I always told your mother you were bound for greatness, didn’t I? Oh, how proud she must be in the Night Kingdom!”

Kinich nodded politely, his smile unwavering despite the lump forming in his throat. The woman continued, recounting snippets of his childhood he could barely recall, her words a mix of nostalgia and boundless pride.

“Such a strong boy,” she went on, her hands clasping him tightly. “Always destined for something remarkable!”

He chuckled softly, his voice steady but distant. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As she finally moved on, joining another group to share her excitement, Kinich let out a quiet breath. The weight of their expectations pressed heavy on his shoulders, the constant attention a reminder of a role he still wasn’t sure he deserved.

Before Kinich could dwell too deeply in his thoughts, Mavuika appeared behind him, her voice bright and full of energy.

“Kinich!” she called out, her grin wide. “How’s our champion holding up?”

He turned to her, his expression a mix of gratitude and unease. “Uh… thanks, Mavuika,” he muttered, awkwardly rubbing his arm and glancing away.

Sensing his discomfort, Mavuika stepped closer and gave his shoulder a firm, reassuring pat. “Oh, come on, son. You earned this,” she said warmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

When his eyes hesitated to meet hers, she shifted to face him fully, placing both hands on his shoulders. Her gaze was steady and kind as she added, “You fought hard, Kinich—both in the pilgrimage and in the war. This is your moment, and you’ve more than earned it. Promise me you’ll try to relax tonight, yeah?”

Her smile softened, and the sincerity in her voice chipped away at the tension he was carrying. Kinich nodded slowly, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Okay,” he said, his voice quiet but genuine.

“That’s the spirit,” Mavuika replied, giving him a light squeeze before stepping back, her encouraging presence like a balm to his restless mind before walking away to chat with her friends.

Kinich leaned back against the wall, taking in the lively scene around him. The music pulsed through the air, setting the mood for the night. He couldn’t help but smile as he spotted his friends.

Chasca was in the middle of the crowd, laughter bubbling from her as she danced, her movements fluid and carefree to the upbeat disco rhythm. Mualani was right by her side, matching her energy step for step, both of them completely lost in the joy of the moment.

Xilonen, ever the multi-tasker, was stationed at the DJ booth, focused on shifting discs and fine-tuning the volume, a small smile on her face as she nodded to the rhythm.

Ororon stood off to the side, engaged in conversation with Citlali. His posture was calm and composed, but there was an unmistakable interest in his eyes as he listened to whatever Citlali was saying.

Kinich’s gaze moved further, and just to his left—

“Greetings, Champion,” came a teasing voice.

Kinich’s attention snapped to Lyney, who was approaching with that same smirk, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Too popular to talk to the lower class now, hm?” Lyney teased, stopping just in front of him, his tone playful but with an edge of something more.

Kinich’s smile faded for a brief moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he met Lyney’s gaze. “You’re the one who’s acting like you’ve been crowned,” he said dryly, trying to mask the slight unease gnawing at him. “How’s the night treating you?”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, leaning in a bit closer, the mischievous glint in his eyes intensifying. “I’d say it’s treating me quite well,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m curious—what’s a champion like you doing here, standing all alone? Surely you deserve better than this wall.”

Kinich chuckled, glancing back at the vibrant crowd. “I just needed a moment. A bit overwhelming, that’s all.”

Lyney’s smile softened into something less playful, his gaze drifting over the crowd before returning to Kinich. “I can imagine.” He paused for a beat, then added, “If you need company, I’m happy to oblige.”

Kinich didn’t respond right away. There was something about the way Lyney said it, something deeper beneath the teasing words. He felt the pull to move away, to not let himself be drawn in further—but something inside him made him hesitate.

“Maybe just for a bit,” Kinich replied finally, his tone neutral but with a slight smile.

Lyney’s grin widened, and before Kinich could say another word, the magician stepped closer, subtly lowering the space between them. As the music swirled around them, it felt like the noise of the world faded for just a moment, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of unspoken tension.

As the upbeat disco music faded, the tempo shifted, the music easing into a slower, more sensual melody. The sound of the crowd and chatter faded away as the intimate notes of the song surrounded them, pulling the room into a quieter, more personal space.

Lyney’s eyes locked onto Kinich’s, and without hesitation, he extended his hand. “Care to dance?” he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Kinich hesitated, glancing briefly at the hand before looking up at Lyney, his posture stiff. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he lied, an easy smile covering up the slight unease he felt. “You’re probably better off finding someone else to dance with.”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, a knowing glint in his violet eyes. He didn’t flinch at Kinich’s words, only chuckled softly, the sound almost like a purr. “Really now? Tsk tsk tsk, that just won’t do. What kind of partner would I be if ditched you now.”

Kinich felt his heart skip a beat, a rush of heat flooding his cheeks at the subtle challenge in Lyney’s tone. His smile faltered, but he quickly masked it, playing the lie off as if it didn’t matter.

“I’m serious,” Kinich said, a bit more defensively now. “Dancing’s not really my thing.”

Lyney gave a small, knowing smirk, but his gaze softened, understanding the pride behind Kinich’s denial. “Alright,” he said with a teasing tone. “If you insist.”

The space between them shrank, and before Kinich could say anything more, Lyney gently took his hand and pulled him into the dance. Despite Kinich’s protests, there was something undeniably magnetic about Lyney’s presence, something about the way he moved, so fluid and confident, that pulled Kinich in, step by step. Even if Kinich was a dancer, he was finding it hard to keep up with the emotions swirling in his chest.

The music enveloped them both as their movements grew more synchronized. Lyney’s hand rested on Kinich’s back, pulling him closer with every step, and despite himself, Kinich couldn’t help but follow his lead. The tension that had been between them melted into the rhythm, leaving just the two of them under the soft glow of the dimmed lights.

Lyney never stopped smiling, his face calm yet amused as they danced, his gaze always focused on Kinich. “You’re doing well for someone who claims not to be a dancer,” Lyney teased softly.

Kinich swallowed, his breath hitching. “I told you, I’m not...” He stopped himself, realizing the lie had already been called. Instead, he let the dance speak for itself, the silence between them heavier than words

The music continued to lull the crowd into a state of soft contentment, the slow rhythm guiding their steps like a gentle pull of the tide. Kinich couldn’t stop himself from moving with it, his body responding to Lyney’s lead, even as his mind tried to resist the growing intimacy between them. Lyney was an enigma, his every gesture calculated but not forced, his touch warm, but with just enough distance to keep Kinich on edge.

As they swayed in time with the music, Lyney’s grip on Kinich’s back tightened slightly, pulling him closer, the space between them diminishing. Kinich’s breath quickened, heart pounding against his chest. There was something so captivating about Lyney, something that kept drawing him in despite the skepticism that lingered at the back of his mind.

Lyney’s violet eyes never wavered from Kinich’s, his gaze soft yet intense, filled with a quiet understanding that made Kinich feel exposed. His chest tightened as the proximity between them became undeniable. He tried to pull away, but Lyney’s hand on his back guided him effortlessly forward.

“Don’t pull away,” Lyney whispered, his voice low, a playful smile curling at the corners of his lips. “I don’t bite.”

Kinich’s breath hitched, his pulse quickening in his throat. He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore, but it felt impossible to ignore. The space between them was closing in, the music, the heat of Lyney’s body, and the deep pull of his gaze all working together to create a moment so intimate, so palpable, that it was impossible to deny.

Before he could say another word, Lyney’s hand slid up to his cheek, his thumb tracing the line of Kinich’s jaw softly, as if testing the boundaries, waiting for Kinich to pull away. But Kinich didn’t. His breath caught in his chest, heart hammering, as Lyney leaned in just slightly. The movement was so subtle, so deliberate, that for a moment, Kinich almost didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late.

Lyney’s lips brushed against his, a gentle, fleeting touch, a whisper of warmth that left Kinich’s thoughts scattered, mind blank. And then, as if guided by some unspoken understanding, the kiss deepened, slow and tender, the world around them fading into nothing but the soft sound of the music and the thudding of their hearts in sync.

Kinich’s hands instinctively moved to Lyney’s arms, gripping them for balance as the kiss held him captive. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—warmth, trust, and an unspoken bond wrapped into one perfect moment.

When they finally pulled apart, Lyney rested his forehead against Kinich’s, both of them breathless, the air between them still crackling with that magnetic tension. Kinich’s chest rose and fell with every labored breath, his fingers still trembling from the intensity of the kiss.

Lyney chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Kinich’s face, his smile soft yet knowing. “You’re not a bad dancer after all, Kinich,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, but filled with something deeper.

Kinich’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, his heart still racing. He couldn’t bring himself to respond at first, unsure what to say, but the moment felt so raw, so vulnerable, that words seemed unnecessary. Instead, he just let the silence stretch, savoring the warmth of Lyney’s touch and the lingering taste of the kiss.

In the distance, the sound of the crowd resumed, laughter, chatter, and music filling the space once more, but for Kinich and Lyney, the world felt quieter, as if nothing else mattered except the connection they shared in that fleeting moment.

Chasca breezed past him, flashing Kinich a playful grin, her eyes twinkling with mischief. With a wink, she tugged a reluctant Xilonen onto the dancefloor, her laughter ringing in the air.

As the night continued, the celebration carried on, the rhythms of the music melding with the laughter of friends and the energy of the crowd. Kinich stood there for a moment, the weight of the kiss still lingering on his lips, his mind swirling with a mixture of emotions. He wasn’t sure what this meant, where this connection with Lyney would lead, but for now, he let the music and the company of his friends sweep him along.

Xilonen and Chasca were lost in the dance, laughing together as their fears held no weight. Their movements fluid and synchronized, while Ororon remained at the edge of the crowd, his arms crossed, his gaze distant, as if watching over them all. Citlali stood nearby, her eyes sharp, scanning the scene with a quiet intensity.

Lyney caught his gaze across the room, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. Kinich offered a small smile in return, his chest tightening slightly at the sight of him. Lyney’s presence was undeniable, and Kinich wasn’t sure what it was that drew him in so easily—whether it was his charm, his confidence, or something deeper that Kinich couldn’t quite place.

But as the night unfolded and the music continued to flow, Kinich realized that for the first time in a long time, he was okay with the uncertainty. He didn’t need to have all the answers right now. He had his friends, his people, and a future that, for once, felt open to possibilities.

The evening stretched on, and with each passing moment, Kinich felt himself pulled further into the celebration. And no matter where the night took him, whether in the arms of Lyney or back among his friends, one thing was certain: this was a night he would never forget.

Chapter Text

Citlali exhaled heavily, snapping her book shut with a decisive thud. Her pulse quickened as she stared at the empty space in the room, her thoughts a whirlwind of hesitation. Was she ready for this? Entering Lyney’s dream wasn’t like confronting him in the waking world. Dreams were chaotic, personal, and unpredictable.

Xilonen asked her to confront him in private, just to see how he reacts to the information. The equation should be simple. Surprised or defensive? He's hiding something. Unbothered? He's probably not doing anything conspicuous. Anything else? Citlali could figure it out from there.

The image of Arlecchino flashed in her mind, sending a chill down her spine. Her hand reflexively clenched at her side. No, she wouldn’t let herself be afraid. Not now. Taking a steadying breath, Citlali stepped into the center of the room, her movements deliberate as she prepared herself for what was to come.

This wasn’t going to be easy. Unlike the controlled environment of a pocket dimension, this was Lyney’s domain. His subconscious ruled here, not hers. He could shove her out if he wanted to—or worse, twist the dream to block her completely. But she wouldn’t let that stop her. She couldn’t risk confronting him in the real world again, not yet.

Bringing her hands together, she focused her cryo energy, the air around her growing sharp and cold. The words of an ancient incantation slipped from her lips, precise and commanding:

“Mira la mente de quien deseo,
¡Entra en los paisajes oníricos,
protegidos de los espíritus!”

The icy power swirled around her, encasing her in its embrace. As the final word echoed, her surroundings blurred and faded, dissolving into the eerie, shifting landscape of Lyney’s dream.

Or at least she thought it would be a dream.

The moment Citlali entered Lyney's nightmare, an oppressive darkness enveloped her. A tightrope stretched across an abyss, and on it, Lyney stood, gripping a long balancing pole, his every movement measured and precise. But his expression was anything but confident. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flickering nervously as he focused on staying upright. The world around him was chaotic, a swirl of faceless figures and shadowed shapes moving in the void.

Citlali noticed them immediately—Arlecchino was sitting in the front, her legs crossed. The other figures gathered around were equally unsettling, their faces blank and obscured. Citlali saw some figures that she definitely should not recognize. Citlali assumed it was because she was in an unfamiliar nightmare, she was a separate presence, so she was adapted to have the same memories as the host; Lyney. Citlali spotted a few more familiar silhouettes in the crowd: Furina, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, all watching with distant, indifferent expressions. Their comments were cold, dismissive.

“Underwhelming.”

“Could be better.”

"Not impressive.”

The words hit like jabs, but Lyney didn’t flinch. He was doing everything he could to keep his balance, his feet trembling slightly as they hovered over the abyss. His hands gripped the balancing pole, knuckles turning white with the strain. Yet, his expression betrayed his fear—a fear of falling, of failing. Of being seen for the weak and unworthy person he believed he was.

"Move forward, Lyney," Arlecchino’s voice broke through the swirling fog of doubt. Her voice was smooth and commanding, colder than the empty space around them. "You have no choice. Show them you can do it. Or you’ll be discarded. You’ll fall, and nobody will care."

Her words cut through him, making his body tense even further. He shifted on the tightrope, trying to keep his focus, but the pressure was mounting.

Citlali stepped forward, her voice ringing out sharply across the vast expanse. "Lyney!"

His head jerked slightly, but his eyes didn’t meet hers. Instead, he continued walking, each step measured but shaky. His lips pressed into a thin line as if he were trying to drown out the world around him.

"Lyney!" Citlali demanded, her voice sharp with growing frustration. "I need to speak with you!"

But Lyney’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his mind caught in the nightmarish fog of his own insecurities. The faceless crowd below didn’t help; their eyes were just empty voids, watching but not seeing. Yet the words of the people that mattered, like Furina and Neuvillette, echoed in his ears, intensifying the pressure.

“Overrated.”

“Too Cocky.”

“Not enough.”

The comment was repeated by the crowd.

“Not enough. Do Better. Not enough. Not enough”

It was mentally exhausting.

Arlecchino’s voice sliced through the air again. “You’ll never be enough. Keep moving, or you will fall. You were born to succeed. That is your destiny. I will never allow a failure.”

Lyney’s hands tightened around the pole. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. His breath was shallow, his heart racing. The words felt like they were suffocating him. He forced himself to take another step forward.

But Citlali wouldn’t let him ignore her any longer. She snapped, her voice carrying an edge of desperation. “You think this is going to break you? It will break you if you keep running from the truth.”

She stepped forward again, this time with more force, but still, Lyney didn’t respond. His focus remained fixed on the tightrope beneath his feet, his every move calculated, terrified of messing up.

Citlali’s fists clenched at her sides. She couldn’t keep pretending. She didn’t know what he wanted, but this wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t the charming, overconfident magician she had always seen—this was a broken child clinging to a rope of fake pride and insecurity.

“Lyney!” she shouted again, this time almost pleading. “Stop hiding. You’re not fooling anyone!”

Still, Lyney didn’t answer. The words of Arlecchino were louder now, suffocating him.

“If you can’t survive this, what makes you think you will ever be good enough to run the house?” Arlecchino said softly, her eyes burning with disdain.

Xilonens sharp voice cut through. “You don’t belong. Not here. Not anywhere. He’ll see you for what you really are.”

Citlali couldn’t stand watching this any longer. The nightmare, the faceless figures, the pressure—it was too much. Lyney wasn’t looking for her to help him. He wasn’t even looking for himself. He was too caught in this cycle of self-doubt.

She stepped back, dropping her vision and returning to the real world.

Citlali stumbled backward, eyes narrowing. She wasn’t sure whether to feel pity, anger, or just outright contempt for the man who was before her. The enemy she knew nothing about. But she knew one thing for sure—he was no longer the person she thought he was.

Chapter Text

The night had been lively, electric with the energy of celebration and music. But now, Kinich and Lyney had slipped away from the chaos of the village, seeking a quiet reprieve from the thrumming beats and cheerful shouts. They walked along the path just beyond the festival grounds, the air still warm but heavy with the faint smell of impending rain.

Kinich glanced up at the darkening sky, muttering under his breath. "Why is it raining so much more often?" he grumbled as a low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance.

Lyney, trailing behind him, chuckled softly. "Well," he said with a wry smile, "it’s for story plot, of course."

Kinich stopped mid-step, turning to face him with an incredulous look. "What?"

Lyney shrugged, tilting his hat against the light drizzle that had started to fall. "You know," he said with exaggerated casualness, "the dramatic atmosphere, the moody tension, two people trapped together in a storm… It’s classic."

Kinich groaned and kept walking. "That’s ridiculous."

But Lyney’s smile only grew as the drizzle turned into a downpour within moments, the rain soaking through Kinich’s shirt. He sighed heavily, his bandana clinging to his damp skin as the water ran down his face. "Great. Just great."

The rain poured harder, hammering onto the ground. The two boys quickened their pace, eventually stumbling upon an old wooden hideout on the cliff's edge. It was small but sturdy, and Kinich ducked inside with a huff, shaking the water from his hair. Lyney followed, spinning his soaked hat in one hand before plopping it back on his head.

"Guess the plot thickens," Lyney teased, leaning against one of the posts.

Kinich shot him a look but said nothing, his arms crossed as he glared out at the rain. It wasn’t just the rain that irritated him—though it was relentless—it was the fact that everything lately seemed out of his control. The attention at the festival, the strange feelings he couldn’t fully explain whenever Lyney was around, the weight of being the champion.

"Why does it always have to be like this?" Kinich muttered again, more to himself this time.

Lyney tilted his head, studying him. "You’re not just talking about the rain, are you?"

Kinich looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He hated how easily Lyney could read him, as though every thought he tried to bury was written across his face.

The storm raged on outside, the sound of rain and thunder filling the silence between them. Lyney stepped closer, his movements quiet but deliberate. "You don’t always have to hold everything together, you know," he said softly.

Kinich turned his head sharply, his eyes narrowing. "What do you know about holding things together?"

Lyney’s looked away. "More than you think," he said simply.

Kinich opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He closed his eyes, leaning against the wooden railing of the gazebo as the rain continued to pour. Lyney was infuriatingly good at knowing exactly what to say to disarm him, to leave him feeling both irritated and seen.

The storm began to lighten, the thunder retreating into the distance, but neither of them made a move to leave. Lyney stood beside Kinich now, their shoulders almost touching, and the quiet between them felt less heavy, more like a fragile understanding.

Without thinking, Kinich glanced at him, his gaze softening. Lyney turned his head, catching Kinich’s eyes. There was no teasing in his expression this time, just a quiet warmth that made Kinich’s heart ache in a way he didn’t fully understand.

For once, Kinich didn’t fight it. "You really are insufferable, you know that?" he muttered, though there was no bite in his words.

Lyney’s lips curved into a small smile, his voice barely above a whisper. "And yet, here you are."

They stood like that for a moment longer, the rain a gentle patter around them. Then, without needing to say anything, Lyney reached out and took Kinich’s hand. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything they couldn’t put into words.

Kinich didn’t pull away. Instead, he let himself lean into the quiet comfort of the moment, the storm outside forgotten.

—

Citlali stood in the dim glow of Xilonen’s workshop, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The sound of rain tapping against the roof filled the silence between them. Xilonen leaned against the wall, her piercing gaze fixed on Citlali with an impatience that was almost tangible.

“Well?” Xilonen finally demanded, her voice sharp. “What did you see?”

Citlali hesitated, shifting her weight. “It was… intense,” she said slowly. “Lyney was on a tightrope, balancing high above the ground. There were figures watching him—judging him.”

Xilonen tilted her head, arms folded. “Figures? Who?”

Citlali exhaled sharply. “Some I didn’t recognize. Faceless ones. But Arlecchino was there, giving orders. The ancient heroes, too, and even figures from Fontaine. I think that's where he's from.” She shook her head. “They were all watching, criticizing. He was trying to act confident, but he was terrified, Xilonen.”

“Terrified?” Xilonen repeated, skepticism thick in her tone. “Or just acting?”

Citlali’s expression hardened. “It didn’t feel like an act. He was under so much pressure. Arlecchino demanded perfection, and the others whispered and judged, like nothing he did would ever be enough, also, you can’t act in a dream unless he knew I was coming”

Xilonen pushed off the wall, her arms still crossed. “So what? He’s stressed? That doesn’t change what we know about him. The manipulation. His ties to the Fatui.”

“I’m not saying it excuses anything,” Citlali countered, her voice steady but strained. “But it wasn’t the dream of someone gloating about fooling us all. It was someone who’s terrified of failing everyone around him.”

Xilonen’s jaw tightened, her sharp eyes narrowing. “You sound like you pity him.”

“Maybe I do,” Citlali snapped, her voice rising. “But don’t you wonder if we’ve been wrong? If we’re fighting an enemy that doesn’t exist?”

Xilonen stared at her, unblinking, before shaking her head. “You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. That’s exactly what he wants. He’s playing a role, Citlali. Don’t forget that.”

“I didn’t forget,” Citlali said quietly, turning toward the door. “But maybe you’re the one refusing to see the whole picture.”

A look flashed on Xilonens face; Pity? Sympathy? Who knows, but she wasn't sticking around long enough to ask.

The rain greeted her as she stepped outside, cold and unrelenting. As it soaked through her clothes, Citlali couldn’t shake the image of Lyney teetering on that rope, surrounded by faceless judges and unrelenting expectations.

Her doubts clung to her like the rain, impossible to ignore.

Chapter Text

The morning sun cast a warm glow over the village as Kinich fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, trying not to look like he was stalling. Lyney stood beside him, effortlessly charismatic as he regaled Kinich with tales of his recent escapades.

“And then,” Lyney said, his eyes sparkling with amusement, “the poor child actually thought I’d turned his coin pouch into a frog. I mean, I could have, but that would’ve been cruel.”

Kinich gave a weak chuckle, his mind elsewhere. He had a training session to get to—a big one, with Mavuika and the other heroes—but the thought of asking Lyney to tag along was twisting his stomach in knots.

Lyney noticed the lackluster laugh and tilted his head, studying Kinich. “You’re unusually quiet today. What’s on your mind, champion? Let me guess…” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re concocting a grand plan. Asking for my help? Declaring your undying love for me? I’m all ears, you know.”

Kinich’s face went red as he took a step back, stammering. “W-what? No! That’s not—stop saying things like that!”

Lyney smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Oh, you’re adorable when you’re flustered. Go on, then. What is it?”

Kinich scratched the back of his neck, suddenly finding the ground very interesting. “I, uh... I was wondering if... if maybe you’d want to... you know, come with me somewhere.”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh? Where are we going? A romantic getaway? A top-secret mission? Should I pack a bag?”

“It’s not like that!” Kinich blurted, groaning. He ran a hand down his face before forcing himself to look at Lyney. “There’s a training session with the ancient heroes today. I just thought... you might find it interesting. That’s all.”

Lyney’s lips curved into a mischievous smile. “You’re inviting me to train with legends? How flattering.”

Kinich crossed his arms defensively. “It’s not flattering. I just figured you’d be bored doing nothing. And maybe...” He trailed off, mumbling the rest.

“Maybe what?” Lyney leaned in, his grin widening. “Speak up, mon cher.”

“Maybe it’d be nice to have you there, okay?” Kinich muttered, his cheeks burning.

Lyney’s smile softened for a moment, though his playful tone remained. “Well, when you put it that way, how could I refuse? Lead the way, oh bashful one.”

Kinich blinked, caught off guard. “You’re actually coming?”

“Of course,” Lyney said smoothly, brushing a speck of dust off his sleeve. “How could I resist an invitation so charmingly awkward? Besides…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’ve been dying to see you show off.”

Kinich’s blush deepened, and he turned abruptly. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

Lyney followed, his light laughter trailing behind them. “Relax, Kinich. I’ll behave… mostly.”

—

Lyney, of course, seemed entirely unfazed. His sharp eyes darted around, taking in every detail with an air of amused curiosity. “So this is where champions are made,” he said lightly. “Not bad. Though I expected more... fire and brimstone. Maybe a secret lair?”

Kinich rolled his eyes. “It’s not a dungeon, Lyney. It’s training. You know, hard work?”

“Hard work? Never heard of it,” Lyney quipped, grinning.

Before Kinich could retort, a commanding voice cut through the noise. “Kinich!”

Mavuika strode toward them, her presence as commanding as ever. Her tall frame, “And who’s this?” she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes appraising.

“This is Lyney,” Kinich said quickly. “He’s, uh… a friend. I invited him to watch the session.”

Lyney stepped forward, all smiles, and gave a small, theatrical bow. “A pleasure to meet you, ma’am. You must be Mavuika, the legendary warrior. Kinich has told me so much about you.”

Mavuika raised an eyebrow at the formality but said nothing at first, her gaze flicking back to Kinich. “A friend, huh?” she repeated, her tone laced with curiosity.

Kinich scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “He’s harmless. Mostly.”

Lyney smirked but remained silent as Mavuika studied him for a moment longer. Then, to Kinich’s surprise, she let out a hearty laugh.

“Well, I suppose anyone who can keep Kinich on his toes is worth having around,” she said, clapping Kinich on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward slightly.

Lyney’s grin widened. “Oh, I do my best.”

Mavuika gave a small snort of amusement before turning serious again. “We’ve just started drills. You can stay, but don’t get in the way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lyney replied smoothly, though his eyes twinkled with mischief.

As Mavuika turned to bark orders at a nearby group of warriors, Lyney leaned toward Kinich, whispering, “I like her.”

Kinich sighed, already regretting bringing Lyney along. “Just don’t do anything to make her regret letting you stay, okay?”

“Me? Cause trouble?” Lyney placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. “Perish the thought.”

Kinich gave him a skeptical look but said nothing as the two settled into the training grounds, the ancient heroes casting occasional glances at Lyney, curious about the new face among their ranks.

As they walked, Kinich couldn’t shake the feeling that Lyney was enjoying this way too much, but he also couldn’t deny that a small part of him was looking forward to the magician’s presence.

The training grounds were buzzing with activity, the air filled with the sounds of clashing weapons and distant laughter. Kinich had brought Lyney along, though he was already regretting it. Lyney’s amused commentary about the heroes’ practice techniques had been relentless since they arrived.

The heroes were training in various different weapons, Xilonen was sparring with Iansan, Mualani was trying to figure how to use the staff in her hands, Ororon was trying to hold the bow steady as Citlali nodded while adding a comment every now and the, and Ajaw, he was yelling at everyone.

“Did she really need to critique Ororon’s stance?” Kinich muttered as they walked deeper into the clearing.

“You can never be better if you don’t get a little criticism,” Lyney replied with mock innocence, twirling a card between his fingers. “Besides, his balance is a little off. If he’s going to use a bow, shouldn’t he at least—”

“Stop,” Kinich interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just... stop.”

Before Lyney could retort, Chasca’s voice rang out, cutting through the chatter. “Kinich! Perfect timing!”

Kinich turned, only to see Chasca striding toward them, her bow slung casually over one shoulder and an apple in her hand.

“Why do I feel like I’m about to regret this?” Kinich muttered.

“Because you probably will,” Lyney quipped, earning an exasperated glare.

Chasca grinned, tossing the apple lightly in her hand. “Kinich, be a dear and stand over there for me, would you?”

“Why?” Kinich asked, his suspicion evident.

“You’re going to hold this,” she replied, holding up the apple, “on your head.”

“What?” Kinich’s voice pitched higher in protest.

“Oh, come on,” Chasca teased. “It’s just a little target practice. You trust me, don’t you?”

Kinich hesitated, glancing at the growing crowd of onlookers. “This feels like bullying,” he grumbled as he reluctantly walked to the center of the clearing.

“It’s character building,” Mualani called out from the sidelines, twirling her staff with a playful smirk.

“Character building, my—” “LANGUAGE.” Mavuika cut in, eyeing Kinich, who rolled his eyes.

“Just hold still,” she said, positioning him with the apple on his head.

Kinich sighed dramatically. “If I survive this, I’m filing a complaint.”

Chasca ignored him, turning her back to the target. With a casual flick of her wrist, she nocked an arrow, aimed backward over her shoulder without looking, and loosed the shot. The arrow sliced cleanly through the apple, splitting it in two as the pieces fell to either side of Kinich.

“You’re a show-off,” Kinich muttered, stepping out of the spotlight.

“And you’re a good sport,” Chasca replied with a wink. “Who’s next?”

Before anyone could answer, Lyney stepped forward, his signature smirk in place. “I believe it’s my turn,” he said smoothly.

Chasca arched her brow. “You think you can top that?”

Lyney didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached behind him and pulled out his own bow, the polished wood glinting in the sunlight.

“You carry a bow?” Kinich asked, surprised.

Lyney shrugged. “A magician should always be prepared for a dramatic finale.”

As he walked to the center of the clearing, Lyney scanned the targets thoughtfully. Then, with a flourish, he kicked off his boots, tossing them aside dramatically.

“What are you doing?” Kinich asked, crossing his arms.

“Adding flair,” Lyney replied, as if it were obvious.

Without warning, he tossed his bow into the air and leapt into a backflip. Mid-spin, he caught the bow with his feet, nocked an arrow, and released it in one fluid motion.

The arrow shot through the air and struck a distant target dead center. Mualani whooed while jumping up and down, even Chasca letting out an impressed whistle.

Lyney landed gracefully, brushing imaginary dust off his hands. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how it’s done.”

Mavuika approached, clapping a hand on Lyney’s shoulder. “Impressive. You’ve got a knack for theatrics—and skill to back it up.”

“I do try,” Lyney replied, bowing his head slightly.

Kinich rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re fun to tease,” Lyney shot back with a wink.

Mavuika chuckled. “Well, if nothing else, you certainly know how to entertain.”

The group dispersed, but Kinich lingered beside Lyney, who was now dramatically inspecting his nails.

“Admit it,” Lyney said without looking up. “I made that look good.”

Kinich shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Lyney quipped, twirling his bow before slinging it back over his shoulder.

Chapter Text

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the camp where the Traveler stood silently, their arms crossed. Paimon hovered beside them, her face contorted into a deep scowl as she glared at the floating dragon nearby. Ajaw, as usual, was loud and brash, hovering in the air with a smug expression.

Kinich’s footsteps echoed as he approached, his eyes first falling on the Traveler, then shifting to Paimon, who looked like she could explode any second. His gaze finally landed on Ajaw, who was still floating lazily.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the troublesome dragon," Kinich said with a sigh, his voice laced with amusement and exasperation. "It’s time to take you back, Ajaw."

Paimon folded her arms and rolled her eyes. "Oh, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into," she muttered under her breath. "This little dragon is a nightmare."

Ajaw snorted, clearly annoyed by her words. "Excuse me, little? I am Ajaw, an exquisite, majestic, and incredibly patient dragon, thank you very much!" he barked loudly, his voice growing more exaggerated with every word. "You should be honored to have been in my presence!"

Kinich chuckled at the dragon's antics before turning to the Traveler. "I can’t say I haven’t been delayed in picking him up," he said with a knowing glance. "But I’m grateful for your help, truly. I don’t take that lightly."

The Traveler, ever silent, gave Kinich a soft but firm shake of their head. They signed quickly to Paimon, who quickly relayed the message.

"They’re saying it was just a favor. We didn’t do this for payment." Paimon frowned but glanced at the Traveler, clearly torn. "But they’re serious about not wanting any reward."

Kinich’s face tightened, though his smile remained. "I understand, but it’s important to me that I repay this kindness. You’ve done me a service, and I insist on paying you back. I cannot let this go unacknowledged."

The Traveler shook their head again, their expression calm but resolute. They signed slowly, emphasizing their point. "It was just a favor. No need for payment. We did it because it was right."

Paimon looked back and forth between the Traveler and Kinich, her expression frustrated. "Come on, Traveler! It wouldn’t hurt to let him do something nice. I mean, who doesn’t like a good favor returned?"

Ajaw floated by, laughing loudly. "Oh, this is rich! You should definitely take him up on it. I mean, I deserve something for being this amazing, don’t I? But no, I’m too humble for such things," he boasted with exaggerated flair.

Kinich smiled at the dragon's antics, but his gaze returned to the Traveler. "Please. Allow me to do something for you. You’ve earned it. Whether it’s gold or something more... personal, I want to show my appreciation."

The Traveler hesitated. They didn’t like accepting rewards—especially not for favors they did without a second thought. But the sincerity in Kinich’s words, and the warmth in his eyes, made them pause.

Paimon, however, wasn’t having any of it. "Alright, alright, but hear me out, Traveler!" she said, turning to them with a gleam in her eyes. "What if... what if we let him treat us to a feast?"

The Traveler raised an eyebrow, giving Paimon a questioning look.

Paimon flailed her arms excitedly. “You know, a big feast! The best food, tons of it—meat, fruit, sweets, you name it! It’s way better than gold or some little trinket!" Her stomach growled loudly, and she shot a quick glance at Kinich. "If we let him treat us, I’ll consider it a fair trade!"

The Traveler thought for a moment, their expression softening slightly as they signed to Paimon. "Food... That could work."

Paimon grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Exactly! You know I’m not going to let a feast slip by!" She turned back to Kinich, her voice sweet as honey. "Alright, Kinich, we’ll take you up on your offer. But it’s a feast. No more arguing!"

Kinich’s face lit up in genuine relief, his smile broadening. "A feast it is, then. Consider it a small gesture for your help. I’ll make sure it’s more than worth your time."

Ajaw huffed loudly in the background. "A feast? How utterly beneath me," he muttered, though his pixelated form flickered briefly, as if even he could recognize the appeal of a good meal. "Fine, but I’m only participating for the free food."

Paimon ignored him, already imagining all the delicious dishes they could have. She turned to the Traveler with an eager expression. "You know, we really deserve a good meal after everything."

The Traveler gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, their expression finally softening into a more relaxed state. They signed, their movements graceful yet determined. "Alright. Let’s enjoy the feast."

Kinich gave a low laugh, clapping his hands together. "Then it’s settled. A feast, to celebrate the return of Ajaw and to repay you for your kindness."

And as the sun set behind the horizon, they all made their way toward a grand banquet that would make even the most difficult of dragons forget their complaints—if only for a little while.

Chapter Text

Xilonen paced along the edge of the room, muttering under her breath. “Look, I am not going near him again. She’s literally going to kill me.”

Citlali let out a deep sigh. “I know. That’s why we need to tell Kinich.”

Xilonen shot her a sharp look. “We can’t. Not yet. If we tell him now, he’ll just defend him, or worse—Lyney will lie his ass off.” Her tone was sharp, laced with frustration.

“What if we just confront Lyney directly?” Xilonen suggested.

Citlali groaned and dragged a hand down her face. “And what exactly will that accomplish?”

Xilonen hesitated before glancing at her. “Can’t you just... read his mind?”

Citlali shook her head. “I need to form a connection with him first, and I am not going anywhere near that guy.”

“But you did it with the Traveler before you really knew them,” Xilonen pointed out.

“They consented to it,” Citlali snapped. “And let’s be real—Lyney would never agree to that.” She fell silent, her expression darkening as she stared at the ground.

After a moment, she exhaled sharply. “...However, there is one way. But it’s temporary.”

Xilonen’s ears perked up immediately. “I’m listening.”

—

Lynette walked beside Lyney, half-listening as he chattered away. She gave the occasional nod, her ears twitching slightly as if she was paying attention—but she wasn’t. Lyney, of course, was completely oblivious.

They strolled through the bustling streets of the Scions of Canopy, the warm glow of lanterns flickering against the fading sky. Lyney definitely wasn’t hoping to see Kinich. That would be ridiculous. Absolutely not on his mind. Would it be nice? Sure. But it wasn’t like he was actively looking—

“GAH!” Lyney nearly jumped out of his skin as Citlali suddenly appeared in front of them.

“Will you stop doing that?!” he hissed, clutching his chest.

“Doing what?” Citlali asked innocently, glancing around as if she hadn’t just materialized out of thin air.

“Stalking me!”

“Stalking?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not stalking you. You’re the one who’s been following Kinich around like a lost puppy.”

Lyney scowled. “Oh, for the love of—what do you want, Citlali?”

She studied him, eyes narrowing slightly as if she were listening to something only she could hear. Lyney shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Finally, she tilted her head and said flatly:

“I know you’re with the Fatui.”

Lyney froze.

His blood ran cold, his mind racing. How does she know? Did someone tell her? Did she figure it out herself? It’s over. She’s going to tell everyone, and then they’ll all hate me, and Kinich will never look at me the same way, and—

“Stop, stop, stop.” Citlali clutched her head, groaning. “Your brain is like sticky tar—holy moly, it’s awful.”

Lyney blinked. “What?”

Citlali exhaled sharply and crossed her arms. “Relax. I just wanted to see your reaction. I’m not gonna tell anyone.”

“YOU’RE READING MY MIND?!” Lyney practically screeched. His face burned. How much did she see? How long was she reading my thoughts? Did she know how self-conscious I actually am? Did she—

“Oh my Archons, stop thinking,” Citlali groaned, rubbing her temples. “Deep breaths. You can do this.”

Lyney clenched his jaw, forcing his expression into something resembling calm. “So what?” he snapped. “Are you afraid that a dirty Fatui agent like me is getting too close to the glorious pedestal you put your heroes on?” He crossed his arms, smirking through his irritation.

“No—”

“It’s too late for that,” Lynette interrupted.

Lyney turned to her, eyes narrowing. “What?”

Citlali tilted her head. “What do you mean, ‘too late’?”

“They’re already dating.”

“WHAT?”

“They kissed. Publicly,” Lynette added.

“WHAT?!”

Lynette glanced up at her coolly. “Where were you? It was at the dance.”

Lyney clenched his jaw, his left eye twitching. “Lynette. Stop talking.”

Citlali, meanwhile, looked cartoonishly flabbergasted. “D-Dating…?” she echoed weakly, as if the concept had just shattered her entire worldview.

Lyney threw up his hands. “No.”

Lynette raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. They just kiss, and hold hands, and gaze into each other’s eyes during sunsets. Oh, and Lyney has already met his family, so—”

Lyney jabbed her sharply in the elbow.

Lynette finally went silent, though the faintest hint of a smirk twitched at the corner of her lips.

Citlali, however, still looked like she had just been personally betrayed by reality itself.

Citlali finally blinked, her brain still struggling to process the information. "No, no, no, that can't be right. Kinich wouldn’t—he hates the Fatui! He’s way too smart for that!"

Lynette shrugged. "Clearly not."

Lyney scoffed, brushing imaginary dust off his gloves. "Oh, please. As if I used some kind of hypnotic charm on him." He smirked. "Kinich fell for me on his own, thank you very much."

Citlali shot him a deadpan look. "That’s somehow worse."

"Why, because I’m Fatui?" Lyney spread his arms dramatically. "Or because you can't understand why Kinich might actually like me?"

Citlali exhaled sharply. "Both."

"Wow," Lyney muttered. "Brutal honesty. Love that."

Citlali shook her head, muttering something under her breath before pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is… Archons, this is bad."

Lyney raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, is my completely normal, non-scandalous love life your problem?"

Citlali gestured vaguely in his direction. "Because you’re—you’re you! You lie constantly! You pull disappearing acts! You’re Fatui! There is no way this doesn’t end in disaster!"

Lyney scoffed, placing a hand over his heart as if she had gravely insulted him. "Oh, ye of little faith. I’ll have you know, I am an exceptional partner."

Lynette hummed. "He is very needy."

Lyney gasped. "Lynette!"

Citlali groaned. "This isn’t about your relationship skills, Lyney! This is about Kinich getting too involved with you!"

Something in Lyney’s expression hardened, just for a moment. "And what exactly are you implying?"

Citlali’s jaw tightened. "You know what I’m implying."

Lyney’s smirk was gone now, his gaze sharp. The air between them thickened.

Lynette, meanwhile, took a sip of tea. She did not have tea. But somehow, she took a sip.

Citlali folded her arms. "Look, you are Fatui. You might like Kinich, but your loyalties are still to Sheznaya, aren’t they?"

Lyney’s fingers twitched slightly before he folded his arms, mirroring her stance. "That’s an interesting assumption. I personally don't give two shits about Snezhnaya.”

"Yea, I totally believe that." Citlali said. "And Kinich? He cares too much. He’s reckless. If you think you can just drag him into your mess, you’re more selfish than I thought."

Lyney flinched, but his expression remained unreadable. "And if you think Kinich is some helpless fool who doesn’t know what he’s doing, then you don’t know him at all."
Lynette sighed, finally stepping in before either of them could say something they regretted. "This conversation isn’t going anywhere."
Lyney huffed, rolling his shoulders back. "Well, I’d love to stay and chat about how evil I am, but I have places to be." He turned on his heel with a dramatic flourish. "Lynette, let’s go."

Citlali didn’t stop him, but as he walked away, she called out, "Lyney."

He paused, but didn’t turn around.

Her voice was quieter this time. "If you hurt him, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Lyney let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. "You act like I don’t already live with regret."

Without another word, he vanished into the crowd, Lynette following silently behind him.

Citlali watched him go, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. Something about his response unsettled her, but she couldn’t quite place why.

And that, more than anything, bothered her the most.

Chapter Text

Kinich stood at the counter of the restaurant, scanning the menu as he made his order. It was all going smoothly until he made the grave mistake of asking what the Traveler wanted.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Paimon exclaimed, practically bouncing in the air. She didn’t even glance at the Traveler, who was frantically signing at her, their gestures sharp and insistent.

Kinich, having picked up a bit of sign language from their previous meeting, caught something about spending too much.

But Paimon? Completely ignoring it.

She was already pointing at a string of dishes on the menu, her enthusiasm unchecked. Kinich raised an eyebrow, but the eager sparkle in her eyes made him chuckle. By the time he finished ordering, Paimon’s excitement was palpable, her gaze locked onto the kitchen door like a hawk.

When the food finally arrived, Paimon was practically drooling. She didn’t even wait, diving straight in. The Traveler let out a long-suffering sigh, picking at their plate with a resigned smile.

Even Ajaw, perched on the table’s edge, was eating without his usual stream of snarky comments, which Kinich found oddly peaceful.

As Kinich reached for his drink, movement caught his eye. He turned his head and froze. Standing nearby, smirking like he owned the place, was Lyney.

"Fancy meeting you here, mon cher," Lyney said smoothly, his voice lilting as he approached.

The Traveler immediately signed something, their gestures quick and sharp.

Paimon turned, her mouth full of food, and translated. "Lyney? What are you doing here?"

"Me?" Lyney placed a hand over his heart, feigning innocence. "I’m here on a little vacation." Without missing a beat, he pulled out the chair beside Kinich and sat down, his smirk widening.

"You know the Traveler?" Kinich asked, his brow furrowed.

"Why, of course," Lyney replied, flashing Kinich a bright smile. "They’re world-famous at this point."

Paimon puffed up with pride, nudging the Traveler. "See? Everyone knows us!" she giggled.

The Traveler signed something with a small grin, and Paimon relayed it instantly. "I’d be surprised if they didn’t at this point."

Kinich looked between Lyney, Paimon, and the Traveler, feeling a strange mixture of amusement and mild exasperation as the conversation unfolded.

Lyney leaned in closer, his gaze lingering on Kinich as he added with a sly smile, "Though I must admit, running into you here is the real highlight of my day."

Kinich felt his cheeks heat up, but he quickly turned his attention back to his food. The Traveler shot Paimon a knowing look, and the two exchanged a quiet laugh, leaving Kinich and Lyney to navigate the sudden tension that had settled over the table.

---

"Well, what did you think would happen?" Lynette muttered as she peeled a very inebriated Lyney off of her.

"I mean, how do you even stomach half a bottle of rum on top of a five-course meal?"

Lyney laughed, his eyes unfocused as he blinked slowly, like a confused frog. "This is my training!" he mumbled, weakly raising a hand in the air as if making some grand declaration.

Lynette immediately pushed it back down. "You are the worst kind of drunk."

"Uh—am I interrupting something?"

Kinich’s voice made them both turn. He stood a few feet away, eyeing the situation with clear hesitation.
"Kinichhhhhh!" Lyney gasped, his entire face lighting up like a child who just spotted their favorite toy. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward, nearly knocking Kinich off balance as he wrapped his arms around him in an exaggerated hug.
Kinich stiffened, awkwardly patting Lyney’s back. "No, this idiot is just… being an idiot," Lynette sighed, rubbing her temple.

“This DELINQUANT is UNWORTHY of being in my presence!” Ajaw screamed, flailing his pixel arms around.

Kinich sighed, supporting Lyney’s weight as the magician practically melted against him. "How much did he actually drink?"
Lynette crossed her arms. "Too much."
"I’m perfectly fine," Lyney slurred, attempting to gesture elegantly—only to nearly topple over. Kinich instinctively caught him before he hit the ground.

"Why is he this drunk?" Kinich asked, still stiff as Lyney clung to him.

Lynette huffed. "Some older guy at the restaurant called him a pussy and challenged him to a drinking contest after he performed a card trick."

Kinich gave her an incredulous look. "And he accepted?"

"I tried to stop him," Lynette muttered. "But he was feeling smug about the whole thing and said he could ‘handle it.’ Turns out, he cannot." She shot Lyney a glare.

Lyney, meanwhile, was grinning into Kinich’s shoulder, seemingly unaware of the conversation. "You smell nice," he mumbled.

“And you REEK of religious shame.” Ajaw cut in.

Kinich stiffened. "Okay." He attempted to pry Lyney off, but the magician wasn’t letting go. "Where was he supposed to be staying?"

"The hotel," Lynette replied. "But clearly he’s in no condition to get back there."

Kinich hesitated. He barely knew Lyney. Well—he knew him. More than he’d like, honestly. And now he had a drunk magician clinging to him like they were best friends.

He glanced at Lynette, who looked one second away from leaving Lyney in the street.

Kinich sighed, rubbing his temple. "I guess he can stay at my place for the night…"

“NO! Do you HEAR ME! I will not breathe the same oxygen as this- this TROGLODYTE” Ajaw screamed.

Lynette took a step back instantly. "Great. Have fun."

"Wait—" Kinich started, but Lyney nuzzled against him with a content sigh.

"You’re so nice to me, Kinich…" Lyney murmured.

Kinich groaned. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get used to it."

Lyney giggled. "Too late."

“Do NONE of you listen to me!?” Ajaw said, jumping around like a frog.

Kinich sighed, tightening his grip as he started leading Lyney away. This was definitely going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

“DATING? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY’RE DATING?!” Xilonen roared, her tail bristling in frustration.

Citlali barely blinked, but she let out a slow, tired sigh. She knew Xilonen would take this badly, but it was still a headache to deal with.

“I know,” she said, rubbing her temple. “I wasn’t thrilled to hear it either.”

Xilonen threw her hands in the air. “Why?! Why him?! Does Kinich NOT SEE how weird he is? How—how untrustworthy he is?!”

Citlali gritted her teeth. “Look, I get it, but—”

“What?” Xilonen snapped, eyes narrowing.

Citlali exhaled sharply. “Kinich obviously knows him better than we do. Maybe he trusts Lyney because he understands him better.”

Xilonen scowled. “Or maybe he’s just being played.”

Citlali hesitated. She wanted to argue—but could she really be sure?

Xilonen crossed her arms. “You seriously think this is legit?”

Citlali groaned. “I don’t know, alright? But Kinich isn’t an idiot.”

Xilonen scoffed. “He’s blinded by whatever stupid feelings he has for that clown.”

Citlali rolled her eyes. “Have you met Kinich? He’s as emotionally dense as a rock. If he actually realized he liked Lyney, then that means he must’ve had a damn good reason.”

Xilonen’s ears flicked. “Or Lyney’s just that good at messing with people.”

Citlali pressed her lips together. “Maybe. But like it or not, this is happening. And if we push Kinich too hard on it, we’re just going to make him more stubborn.”

Xilonen grumbled something under her breath, then let out a sharp sigh. “Fine. But if that clown so much as breathes suspiciously, I swear—”

Citlali frowned. “Oh, we’re definitely keeping an eye on him.”

—

Xilonen crouched behind a row of potted plants, her ears flattened as she glared across the café’s outdoor seating area. Citlali sat beside her, far less invested in their covert operation but still watching with mild interest.

At a small, round table, Kinich, Lyney, and Lynette sat together, drinks in hand. The café bustled with life, the scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries filling the air. It was a perfectly normal setting—except for the fact that Lyney was there, being his usual smug, insufferable self.

"Look at him," Xilonen seethed, tail flicking aggressively. "Acting all charming like he isn’t a total menace."

Citlali hummed, sipping from a cup she had actually bought instead of just lurking. "He’s just talking, Xilonen."

Xilonen shot her a glare. "That’s exactly the problem."

Back at the table, Lyney was grinning as he gestured animatedly with his hands, likely in the middle of some dramatic story. Lynette sipped her drink, unimpressed. Kinich, on the other hand, looked relaxed—more than relaxed. He was smiling.

Xilonen’s claws dug into the wooden edge of the planter. "Ugh. That’s bad enough, but—wait. WAIT. WHAT IS HE DOING?"

Citlali followed her gaze just in time to see Lyney reach across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against Kinich’s. It was small. Barely even noticeable.

But Kinich didn’t pull away.

Instead, he smiled.

Xilonen made an audible choking noise. "Oh, absolutely not—"

Citlali slapped a hand over her mouth and yanked her back down before she could expose them. "Will you calm down?" she hissed.

Xilonen yanked her hand away, eyes wild. "Did you see that? He touched him! And Kinich just let it happen! What kind of brainwashing nonsense is this?"

Citlali rolled her eyes. "Or maybe Kinich just likes him?"

Xilonen looked physically ill. "You’re not helping."

Citlali leaned back against the planter, sipping her drink again. "Well, you better get used to it. Because judging by that look on Kinich’s face, that’s definitely not the last time it’s gonna happen."

Xilonen groaned, burying her face in her hands. This was an absolute disaster.

Xilonen’s eyes were practically on fire as she watched Kinich and Lyney exchange a soft laugh. Lyney had made some overly dramatic gesture that was almost certainly for show, and Kinich was playing along like it was the most natural thing in the world. The whole thing was enough to make Xilonen want to start throwing things.

"Ugh, I can't do this," she muttered, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Does he not see it? How is he not seeing how ridiculous this is?!"

Citlali watched her with an amused expression, but her words were sharp. "So, if Chasca was part of the Fatui, you wouldn’t be mad at—"

"SHUT UP!" Xilonen snapped, turning to glare at her.

Citlali grinned. "I’m just saying, you're acting like this is the end of the world. Kinich can handle himself."

Xilonen’s gaze flickered back to Kinich and Lyney. There was something too comfortable about the way they were talking, the way Kinich was looking at him like everything was just fine. "I swear, if he gets any closer to that idiot... I’ll—"

Citlali laughed, cutting her off. "You’re already in meltdown mode. It’s cute, in a 'I-need-to-punch-something' way."

“And it's gonna be you if you don’t SHUT UP.” Xilonen gave her a look that could freeze water, but she didn’t say anything else. She was too busy trying to keep her calm.

Meanwhile, Lyney leaned closer to Kinich, his usual smug grin firmly in place as he whispered something. Kinich, of course, laughed, totally oblivious to Xilonen’s silent meltdown in the background.

Lynette, standing beside Lyney, barely seemed to notice the tension. She looked as uninterested as ever, leaning back slightly and sipping her drink, letting the two men enjoy their moment.

Xilonen clenched her fists. "If he touches him again, I swear..."

Citlali snickered, obviously enjoying watching Xilonen’s emotional spiral. "You might want to breathe. You look like you’re about to explode.

As the two parted with Lynette, Xilonen stomped after Lyney and Kinich, unable to take it anymore. Her patience was fraying at the edges, and all she wanted was to confront Lyney about his audacity to even look at Kinich the way he was.

Citlali trailed behind her, sighing but still amused. "You’re gonna regret this, you know," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I don’t care," Xilonen snapped, her steps quickening as she approached the two men. "Lyney!" she called, voice dripping with annoyance.

Lyney turned, his face lighting up with an over-exaggerated grin. "Ah, Xilonen! Fancy meeting you here. What can I do for you today?"

"You can stop trying to get too close to Kinich," she growled, not even attempting to hide the irritation in her tone.

Kinich blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Xilonen, what's going on?"

Xilonen didn’t even acknowledge him. Her gaze was fixed firmly on Lyney, and she was absolutely done. "You don’t get to do this. I don’t care how charming you think you are, you’re not fooling anyone."

Lyney chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I’m not fooling anyone? And here I thought I was just being my charming self." He leaned a little too casually toward Kinich, eyes glinting. "I did tell you, mon cher, she's stalking me."

Xilonen froze. Her face flushed with a mixture of rage and embarrassment. "I—What?" she sputtered, fists clenching. "I’m not stalking you, you idiot!"

Citlali stepped in at that point, the casual amusement in her tone unmistakable. "Oh, it’s true. She’s been forcing me to watch you since... well, forever. Totally harmless stuff, you know, just casually watching you both eat breakfast, trying to figure out why Kinich is so emotionally dense..."

"SHUT UP!" Xilonen snapped, now beyond caring about anything except the immediate need to put Lyney in his place.

Lyney smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos. "Oh, she’s mad. I guess it’s true—can't stand it when someone else gets too close to Kinich, huh?"

Kinich stood there, utterly confused. "Xilonen, what are you-"

"No," Xilonen interrupted, turning to Kinich with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. "Just... don’t talk, alright?"

Lyney, meanwhile, had started to walk off, his hand on Kinich’s shoulder, still smug as ever. "Come on, Kinich, let’s go. I told you, she’s stalking me." He shot a wink over his shoulder. "I think she needs a hobby."

Xilonen and Citlali both stared after them, and Xilonen was about to scream when Citlali, ever the calm presence, simply said, "Well, that was fun."

"Fun?" Xilonen fumed. "You think this is fun?"

Citlali raised an eyebrow. "You did just try to confront a guy who lives off of chaos. You really thought that was going to go well?"

Xilonen muttered under her breath, her frustration bubbling over. "I hate him. I really do.”

Chapter Text

"Well, isn't this a lively place?" Lyney remarked as they approached the Children of Echoes' gathering spot. His tone carried its usual flair, though his eyes darted curiously around the bustling scene.

Kinich sighed, already scanning the area. "Where's Kachina?" he muttered, clearly trying to focus.

Right on cue, Kachina burst out of nowhere, sprinting toward them like a whirlwind of energy. "Hermano!" she yelled, leaping into Kinich’s arms with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Kinich caught her with practiced ease, chuckling softly as he returned the hug.

"REMOVE THIS... ILLITERATE CHILD FROM MY PRESENCE!" Ajaw’s voice thundered from Kinich's bracelet, louder than anyone would have liked.

"Ajaw," Kinich said with a sigh, gently peeling Kachina off. "What did we say about yelling at people?"

"We said it’s a perfectly valid response to nonsense!" Ajaw huffed.

"How's Ayo doing?" Kinich asked, shifting the subject quickly.

"He's doing so much better now!" Kachina beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her ears twitched as she suddenly turned her attention to Lyney, who stood nearby with a theatrical smile that suggested he’d been waiting to be noticed.

"And who's this?" she asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

"He’s my… friend," Kinich replied, his voice faltering just slightly as he gestured toward Lyney.

Lyney’s smile grew impossibly wider. "Friend?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Such a formal introduction, mon cher."

Kinich shot him a look, but it only made Lyney’s smug grin deepen. Kachina squinted suspiciously at the exchange before turning back to Kinich. "Is this really just a friend thing, or…?"

Ajaw groaned. "NOT THIS CONVERSATION AGAIN."

"So, are you new here?" Kachina asked, tilting her head and resting a finger on her chin in thought.

"You could say that," Lyney replied with a warm smile, his charm still intact even in the presence of an excitable child.

Kachina's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "I should show you around!" she declared, grabbing his arm with surprising strength for her size and attempting to drag him forward.

"Wait," Lyney said, smoothly halting her tugging as he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a mesmerizing stone—a gradient of blue and purple with sharp, cubic formations that shimmered in the light. It seemed like it had been crafted by magic itself.

Kachina’s eyes widened in pure awe. "How did you know!?" she squealed, snatching the rock from his hand to inspect it up close.

"A little birdie told me," Lyney said with a smirk, throwing a sideways glance at Kinich, who huffed but said nothing.

"Where did you get it?" she asked, beaming as she rotated the stone in her hands to catch every glimmer of light.

"It was from the caverns of Merusa Village," Lyney replied, watching her face light up further.

Kachina gasped as though he'd just handed her a priceless treasure. "What’s it called?"

Lyney hesitated for a moment, recalling what the Traveler had mentioned. According to them, this unique stone didn’t have a name—at least not one that was widely known.

"Well," he began, "it doesn’t exactly have a name. But you could name it if you like."

Her face lit up even more, and she held the stone close to her chest as if it were already hers. "Really?" she asked, her tail practically wagging with excitement. "I name it?"

"Of course," Lyney said, flashing her a theatrical bow. "It’s only fitting for someone as creative as you."

Kachina mulled it over for a moment before exclaiming, "I’ll call it… Starweave! Because it looks like a little piece of the sky weaved into a stone!"

"Starweave," Lyney echoed, nodding approvingly. "A beautiful name for a beautiful gem."

Kinich, who had been watching the interaction with crossed arms, shook his head with a small smile. "You’ve got a way with people, Lyney," he muttered, half-impressed, half-suspicious.

Lyney turned toward him with a slight smirk. "What can I say, mon cher? It’s a gift."

"Well, thank you, Lyney!" Kachina said, clutching her newly-named treasure. She then grabbed his arm again. "Now come on! You need the grand tour!"

Kinich opened his mouth to protest, but Lyney just shrugged. "Who am I to deny such an enthusiastic guide?" he teased, allowing himself to be pulled along.

As Kachina dragged Lyney toward the nearest cluster of buildings, she looked back at Kinich. "Are you coming, Hermano?"

Kinich sighed “No need, I'll go check on Ayo.” He said,.

Ajaw's voice buzzed from behind Kinich, unmistakably annoyed. "IF THIS CHILD KEEPS RUNNING AROUND LIKE THAT, SHE’S GOING TO BREAK SOMETHING. I CAN ALREADY SENSE IT."

"Relax, Ajaw," Kinich muttered, glancing at his bracelet. "It’s just a little excitement."

"A LITTLE EXCITEMENT LEADS TO CHAOS. TRUST ME."

Lyney looked back over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. "Your Ajaw always this dramatic?"

"Don't encourage him," Kinich warned, but Lyney's grin only widened.

Kachina, oblivious to the conversation, began pointing out landmarks and animatedly explaining their significance to Lyney, who played along with an impressive amount of enthusiasm.

Kinich couldn't help but smile faintly. It was a chaotic scene, but somehow, it felt oddly harmonious.

---

Kachina bounced ahead, her tail flicking in excitement as she led Lyney through the small village. She could already hear the faint murmurs of the villagers as they went about their business, but she was focused on the one person she needed to introduce Lyney to—Pacal, the Chief.

The Chief’s hut wasn’t far from where they had been, nestled in a quieter part of the village. Kachina skipped up to the entrance, barely containing her excitement. She knocked twice and opened the door without waiting for a response.

"Chief Pacal!" she called out cheerfully. The older man, on the larger side with a stocky build and a face that looked more weathered than his age would suggest, looked up from his desk. His gaze softened slightly when he saw Kachina, but it immediately hardened when he noticed Lyney standing beside her.

"Who’s this?" Pacal asked, his voice gruff but not hostile. He stood up from his seat, his large frame filling the space, though his stance was more commanding than threatening.

Kachina quickly stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Pacal, don’t worry! He’s a friend of Kinich! His name is Lyney.”

Pacal’s eyes flicked to Lyney, scanning him up and down. He took in the well-kept clothes, the confident stance, and the way Lyney held himself with an air of smooth charm that made Pacal’s instincts flare with suspicion.

“A friend of Kinich?” Pacal repeated, clearly skeptical. He didn’t take a step forward, but his gaze remained sharp as he sized Lyney up. “I’m not sure I trust someone who just shows up like this, no offense to you, kid.”

Lyney, ever the charmer, gave Pacal an easy smile. "None taken, my friend. Trust is a delicate thing, isn’t it?" he said smoothly, meeting Pacal’s gaze without flinching. “But if it helps, I’m only here for one thing—a little visit and perhaps some good conversation.”

Kachina crossed her arms in front of her chest, her ears flicking with irritation. "Pacal, please! He’s harmless. Kinich trusts him, and I trust Kinich! That’s enough, right?”

Pacal’s gaze softened slightly, but it didn’t entirely lose its edge. He stared at Lyney for a long moment, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it. But don’t think I’m not watching you, Lyney.”

"Of course, Chief," Lyney replied smoothly, giving a slight bow. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Kachina grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "See? I told you!”

Pacal’s eyes flicked to Kachina, then back to Lyney, his expression still wary. "You’d better keep this boy out of trouble, Kachina," he grumbled.

Kachina rolled her eyes. “I’m not! Come on, let’s go!"

As they left the Chief’s hut, Kachina couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder at Pacal, who was still watching them with a calculating look. She’d gotten her way today, but she knew with Pacal, trust wasn’t something that could be forced or rushed. It had to be earned over time.

Lyney, walking beside her with his usual calm confidence, finally spoke up. “Your Chief is a tough one.”

Kachina nodded seriously. "He’s protective of me. Especially because I’m one of the youngest here. He’s not going to trust you right away."

“That’s fine,” Lyney said with a chuckle. “I’m in no hurry to win anyone over. But I do hope I can prove myself worthy of his trust eventually.”

Kachina smiled, her earlier seriousness giving way to a gleam of excitement. “I’m sure you will!”

—

Kinich looked at Kachina and Lyney. Lyney was showing off another one of his signature magic tricks, and Kachina was absolutely captivated. She oohed and awed, eyes wide with wonder as Lyney made small sparks float in the air like fireflies. Kinich couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Lyney had a way of drawing people in, and Kachina, always the curious one, was no exception.

Just then, he felt a tap on his shoulder and whipped around, startled. Mulalani was standing behind him, grinning ear to ear. “How’s it going, Kinich?” she asked in that loud, cheerful voice of hers.

Kinich chuckled, still recovering from his surprise. “Nothing much,” he said casually. “Just checking in on Ayo.”

“No way, me too!” Mulalani said with a grin, her energy never slowing. She looked around, eyes landing on Ayo who was lounging nearby, looking much better. “Look at him, isn’t he doing—WAIT... Is THAT who I think it is?” Her voice dropped to an exaggerated stage whisper as she pointed at Lyney.

Kinich’s smile widened, though he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. “Yep.”

Mulalani’s eyes widened, and she slowly turned to Kinich, giving him a look that was equal parts amused and incredulous. He sighed, already bracing for what was coming. “Waittttt! DID YOU—DID HE—ARE YOU GUYS—”

“Can you freak out quietly?” Kinich interrupted, rubbing his temples as Mulalani jumped up and down in excitement, causing a few nearby villagers to glance over in curiosity.

“Oh my gosh, Kinich, this is huge! This is huge!” she squealed, her hands waving in the air like she couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. “Are you seriously telling me that you and Lyney—?”

Kinich pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t make it weird.”

Mulalani took a deep breath and leaned in close, voice dropping to a mock serious tone. “So... are you two, like, a thing? Or is this just some... casual fling?”

Kinich almost choked on his own breath. “What?! No—no, we’re not—”

But before he could finish, Mulalani was already skipping over to where Lyney was performing his next trick for Kachina, gushing like an overexcited fan. “Lyney, Lyney! Is this your first time in the village, or—?”

Kinich stood there, watching her bombard Lyney with questions, still trying to process Mulalani’s sudden shift in energy. He half-wondered if this was going to be a normal part of his life from now on.

Chapter Text

Lyney had been in many situations where people were watching his every move. Sold-out performances, high-stakes missions, encounters with people who would rather see him in chains than on stage. But none of that compared to the scrutiny of a very enthusiastic young woman bouncing on her toes like she had just uncovered the juiciest gossip in all of Natlan.

Mualani.

She had practically materialized out of nowhere, gasping at Kinich like he had just admitted to setting fire to the rainforest. Lyney had barely turned around before she was pointing at him, eyes wide with excitement.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT— Is THAT who I think it is?”

Kinich sighed the sigh of a man who had been through this before. “Yep.”

Mualani’s eyes darted between the two of them, her excitement bubbling over as she grabbed Kinich’s arm. “DID YOU— DID HE— ARE YOU GUYS—”

Kinich, ever the picture of patience, ran a hand down his face. “Can you freak out quietly?”

Lyney, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He smirked, tilting his hat forward as he leaned in ever so slightly. “Go on, Mualani. What exactly are you trying to ask?”

Mualani turned her attention to him so quickly Lyney swore he heard a whooshing sound. She jabbed a finger in his direction. “So you’re Lyney! The Lyney Kinich has been all weird about!”

Kinich groaned. “I have not been weird—”

“Kinich, you almost knocked over an entire market stall because you were thinking about something he said.”

Lyney perked up. “Oh? Really?” He turned to Kinich, grinning. “I didn’t know I had such an effect on you, mon cher.”

Kinich, to his credit, only looked slightly like he wanted to disappear into the dirt. “It wasn’t— I wasn’t—”

Mualani completely ignored his protests, still focused on Lyney like he was some kind of rare creature she had to examine under a microscope. “Okay, okay, so you are the guy.” She crossed her arms. “You do realize Kinich is like, the worst at emotional stuff, right?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Lyney said smoothly, resting a hand on his hip. “It’s rather charming, in its own way.”

Mualani let out an exaggerated groan. “Ugh, so this is what we’re dealing with. A smooth talker.”

Kinich sighed. “I told you, it’s not a big deal.”

Mualani turned on him so fast that Lyney almost took a step back. “Not a big deal? Kinich, do you even know what a big deal is?” She turned back to Lyney. “Do you know how long it took me to get this guy to even admit when he had a crush on someone in the past?”

Lyney raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And how long was that?”

“Two years! And then he just told me that he lost feelings with NO explanation!”

Kinich groaned again, rubbing his temples. “Can we please talk about anything else?”

Mualani completely ignored him.

“Anyway!” Mualani waved her hands dramatically. “What exactly is your deal, Lyney? Are you trying to charm Kinich into liking you, or are you actually into him?”

Lyney put a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “Mualani! What kind of person do you take me for?”

“The flirty kind.”

“…Fair.” He chuckled. “But to answer your question, let’s just say Kinich has a rather captivating presence.”

Mualani squinted at him. “That was the most indirect way to answer me.”

Kinich groaned for what was probably the fifth time in five minutes. “Mualani, please.”

Mualani dramatically flipped her hair. “I am just looking out for you, Kinich! This is important!” She turned to Lyney again, pointing an accusatory finger. “So, what’s your angle? You some kind of world-class charmer who’s going to vanish in the middle of the night? Or are you actually planning on sticking around?”

Lyney smirked. “If Kinich wants me around, I’ll be around.”

Kinich turned slightly pink at that, which Lyney considered a small victory.

Mualani narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm. You are a tough one to read.” She put a hand on her chin, as if contemplating his very existence.

Lyney grinned. “That’s part of the magic, my dear.”

Mualani rolled her eyes. “Alright, I guess I’ll allow it. For now.” She then turned to Kinich with a smirk. “But you, my friend, owe me details later.”

Kinich crossed his arms. “There aren’t any details to give.”

Mualani gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Lies! Deception!”

Before Kinich could argue, Lyney took the opportunity to swoop in. “Oh, Mualani, you mustn’t take it personally. Kinich is simply the type to let actions speak louder than words.”

Kinich gave him a suspicious glance. “What does that mean?”

Lyney simply smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, nothing at all, mon cher.”

Mualani looked between them, grinning. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Just as Kinich was about to insist again that there was nothing to talk about, a sharp throat-clearing cut through the air.

They all turned.

Standing just a few feet away, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face, was Xilonen.

She was staring directly at Lyney.

Kinich sighed. “Oh no.”

Lyney clapped his hands together, giving Kinich a pointed look. “I told you she’s stalking me!”

Xilonen narrowed her eyes. “We need to talk.”

Mualani, sensing the shift in mood, took a step back. “Oh boy.”

Lyney, ever the performer, gave a dramatic sigh. “Let me guess. You’ve been watching me, analyzing my every move, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”

Xilonen didn’t blink. “You have no idea.”

Mualani whispered to Kinich. “So… should we run?”

Kinich sighed again. “Too late for that.”

And just like that, the air around them tensed as Xilonen took a step forward, her expression unreadable.

Lyney, despite knowing this was coming, suddenly had the distinct feeling that this conversation was going to be very interesting.

Chapter Text

Ima be real with yall I’m lacking a lot of motivation for this fic to the point where I wanna quit it completely. I thought it was just burnout but the more I think about the more I’m simply lacking the desire to keep writing it. I have other ones fics that I wanna write and it’s the mini breaks I’ve been taking only prove how much I lack the passion I once had for this fic. In other words, this is either a really long break, or just an abandonment altogether. I’m sorry for the people I may disappoint and I’m aware this fic is kinda on a cliffhanger. Maybe I will return, but it’s honestly unlikely all things considered.

Chapter Text

Lynette always knew subconsciously how much Father held on their shoulders. Lyney also knew.

The difference was, Lyney was expected to carry the weight after Father collapsed from it.

It’s always been hard to read Lyney. Lynette knew that no matter how close they were, there would always be a barrier.

Lyney was terrified.

Lynette did nothing.

What could she do? Striding down the hallways of life that seem endless, hoping that one day he would find light in the darkness that surrounds this obligation. Lynette can’t guide him through this, because he would never let her be swallowed by perlis that have long since consumed him, or maybe not?

Maybe there was something that would help him.

Maybe there was someone.

Lynette sat cross legged on a rock across from what she could only assume was a inferno she didnt dare try to put out. Why should she? This is peak entertainment.

Xilonen, the ever so calm and collected one who was very normal and un-controlling, was having a very civil conversation with the collection of false confidence and suave squished into a human jello mold that she was supposed to call her brother.

Freminet sat on the ground beside her, fiddling with something. What was it? Lynette could never tell you. He wasnt initially invited because of the very likely scenario that this confrontation would happen, and also the heroes are still unaware of his existence. He seems contect and unstressed so she didnt bother him.

She could only hear bits and pieces of the argument. She was more focused on the perky little blue girl who was poking at Kinich and asking him pointless questions that she clearly knew the answer to. Kinich lookedlike he was having a very fun time with this conversation (That was sarcasm, he hated it).

"You think he’s gonna survive?" Freminet asked without looking up.

"Define 'survive,'" Lynette answered.

"Without getting slapped."

She considered this for a moment, watching Lyney flinch as Xilonen gestured at him with increasing aggression.
"Fifty-fifty."
Across the way, Kinich was sitting on a bench that he probably regretted ever laying eyes on. Mulalani was next to him, leaning in
with the eager energy of a puppy who had just learned the word “crush.”

"So," she said, drawing out the syllable like it was the main course of a gossip buffet, "is he your boyfriend, or just someone who teleports into your bed because he’s cold?"

Kinich stared ahead with the thousand-yard stare of someone recalling all the life choices that led him to this moment.
"It was one time," he said slowly. "And he didn’t teleport."

"He might as well have!" Mulalani clapped her hands and squealed. "I knew it! You’re dating! Oh my gods, wait until I tell—"
Kinich groaned. "Can you not?"

"But you’re SMILING!"

"I’m not."

"Your mouth is doing an up thing. That’s a smile."

"It’s indigestion."

Back over at the interrogation zone, Xilonen’s eyes were practically glowing.

"You know what I think?" she said, poking Lyney in the chest.

"I assume you’re about to tell me," Lyney said with a sheepish grin.

"I think you’re hiding something."

"I wear an entire outfit made of secrets," Lyney replied with a flourish. "It’s part of the magician mystique."

"That’s not even a real sentence!"

"Neither is 'calm down,' but people keep saying it to you."

Citlali stood to the side, arms crossed, watching this whole thing like she was going to need popcorn and possibly a first aid kit. She leaned in toward Xilonen.

"So, if Chasca was part of the Fatui, you wouldn’t be mad at—"

"STILL NOT HELPING!" Xilonen barked, turning a color somewhere between furious and tomato soup.

Lynette snorted.

"I still don’t know who Chasca is," Lyney muttered.

"You don’t need to," Citlali said helpfully. "Just know you’re being compared unfavorably."

Lyney gave her a thumbs up. "Sounds about right."

Freminet suddenly looked up from his project.

"Hey," he said to Lynette, nudging her. "They’re leaving."

Sure enough, Xilonen had whirled around with dramatic flair and was storming off. Citlali followed, sighing like a professional sister figure who's seen this too many times.

"Well," Lynette said, standing up and brushing dust off her skirt, "that was fun."

"You have a strange definition of fun," Freminet said.

"You live in a diving suit. Don’t throw stones."

Meanwhile, Lyney trudged back toward Kinich, brushing imaginary dust off his coat like he hadn’t just been emotionally drop-kicked.
"I told you she was stalking me!" he declared dramatically, flopping onto the bench next to Kinich.

Kinich didn’t look at him.

"She literally just walked up and asked a question."

Lyney held up a finger. "Interrogated."

"Questioned."

"Tortured."

"You’re being dramatic."

"You knew that when you agreed to—what is this now?" Lyney paused as a shadow loomed behind them.

Both of them turned to see Xilonen standing there again, arms crossed, clearing her throat like the final boss of passive aggression.
"Oh no," Lyney muttered. "She respawned."

“ROUND 2… FIGHT!” Ajaw bellowed from behind Kinich

Chapter Text

So erm I kinda lied to you guys saying that I left because of burnout and I was talking to my friend about it and she thought it was fucking hilarious so I’m going to explain in depth (kinda) why I stepped back from this fanfiction and why I still will post these randomly

I come from a super duper religious family who is very anti LGBTQ, and since I was born female, they picked someone for me to marry when I was like fucking 10. Weird shit. Anyways some time later they decided I’m getting close enough to the legal age to marry, and they drive me across the province (yes I’m Canadian fuck you) to meet this asshole who turned out to not actually be that bad and he also didn’t want to marry me. Right before this is when I started writing this fic so half of this fic was written ON THE NOTES APP because I don’t have mobile data. And the when I was around half was through this fic I had a gender crisis where I was crying on the floor a lot about being a woman (I’m not anymore, I’m nonbinary yippee) so that’s when I had to go incognito about this. Around when this fics edits started becoming less frequent is when I was sent to a GAY CONVERSION CAMP because they found out my best friend was a lesbian. And then I just thought I was being burnt out by then so I stepped back from this fic :D When I told my friend about this was realizing this is just the ao3 writers curse so um haha yaoi anyone??? Also I’m working on a new chapter so don’t leave me yet