Chapter Text
There’s no bell tolling in his version of Elysium. Physically, yes, the bell exists, but it doesn’t ring out across the green hills and blue rivers. The only time he’s ever heard it was when he ventured into his partner’s dreams. It had sounded familiar, but in his own vague memories, there’s only silence.
Malos isn’t sure what brings him to the old temple, but once he steps inside, the back of a familiar head answers that question. He’s not sure if he came here for Jin or the other way around, but it doesn’t matter.
Jin speaks without turning. “What do you think they are?”
“They’re not Core Crystals. Not like mine.” Malos answers, making his way to the pew Jin is sitting in, and places himself next to him. “If anything, they’re like the Cores found in Gargoyles, or in my sword.”
Jin keeps his eyes fixed on the stained glass and the colorful light that shines in from it. “What’s the difference?”
“For one, they’re not capable of awakening into a Blade. The fact that they look like mine is a creepy aesthetic choice.” Malos lets out a sigh. He glances towards Jin, hoping that the other man will return the look, but he doesn’t. “They’re connected to me. That’s how I gave them commands. But these aren’t quite like that either.”
When Jin doesn’t respond, Malos looks up, too. There’s something hung near the ceiling, similar in shape to his own Core, if not an exaggerated, stretched out version of it. What does it mean? Is this what the Architect based his and Mythra’s Cores on? Of all the things Malos had thought of himself, he hadn’t spent much time on the shape of the crystal that stored his being. Is there some hidden, greater meaning there that even now is hidden from him?
It’s not like it matters. The Architect is gone, and his father, if he had one, is probably dead, too.
“There is a link between them and my Core, but it’s shallow. I can’t control it- not fully, at least. There’s unique data in each of them. It’s not just a processing unit. There’s something else.” Malos shakes his head. “I don’t know what it is.”
“How’d she get so many of them?”
“She said she harvested them.” But from what? They don’t exactly grow on trees, even if this place had trees to begin with.
Everything about Tertius is different. It’s cold. Unfamiliar. Malos isn’t used to living in a place where the very ground beneath his feet doesn’t have a soul. Even in the Marsanes, Mik had rebuilt that ship from the ground up enough to feel like him with every step.
“Do you miss trees?”
For a brief- very brief- moment, Malos is annoyed at Jin for responding to thoughts he didn’t say aloud, but then, instead, he laughs. “Of all the things in Alrest.”
Finally, Jin does look at him, and when their eyes meet, his laughter fades, and only coldness remains.
Now it’s Malos’s turn to avoid his line of sight. He looks to the ground, and pushes away the urge to curl up on himself.
Did they do what they wanted? Did they win? Did Jin achieve his dream?
They’re not alive. It’s been, at the very least, millions of years. Even Mikhail, probably the best suited for long-term survival, has long since faded. Does Alrest itself exist anymore? It feels strange to think about. He made this sacrifice to protect them- to protect Torna- and after one long nap, the payout is over.
“You shouldn’t underestimate them.” Jin places a hand on Malos’s shoulder, and he melts into it. “Even if Jin died quickly, the rest of them-”
Malos stiffens, his throat constricting. “It’s weird when you talk like that.”
“I’m sorry.” And the way he says it is almost robotic, like he’s following programmed instructions instead of a living, breathing being. “Even if I died-”
“Just forget about it.” Malos leans forward to brush off Jin’s hand, and when Jin reaches out again, Malos moves out of the way.
For a moment, they sit in silence. Then, slowly, a hand touches his cheek. Malos reluctantly turns to look- to look in those dead, blue eyes. When Jin cups Malos’s face with both of his hands, Malos doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t move, even when Jin leans forward and presses their lips together. Jin closes his eyes, but Malos doesn’t. He doesn’t do anything.
There’s nothing. Nothing but emptiness.
Malos’s fingers twitch over the loose drawer before eventually scooping his hand through the contents. They’re strange to touch, and a feeling similar to static electricity runs through his skin at every contact point. Finally, he plucks one free and holds it up to his Siren’s Core.
Nothing happens.
If the pieces were compatible, they’d fuse together quickly enough. Siren is smart. Even with the limited processing powers, survival instinct still runs strong. If she won’t take these, then Malos can’t force her.
With a frustrated sigh, Malos lets the crystal fall back into the box.
He’ll need something else, if he has any hope of leaving this forsaken place.
“Woah.” Malos doesn’t jump this time- Gared’s voice is familiar enough at this point- but it still fills him with the kind of annoyance he hasn’t felt since Mythra got her second Driver. “She must really like you. Sir.”
“What’s not to like?” Malos is only half paying attention, using his crutch to rise to his feet. He raises out both arms, as if to show himself off, but it falls flat.
“Can I…?” Gared isn’t even looking at him, eyes fixed on the drawer of crystals. When Malos doesn’t react, he reaches towards them, stopping just short. “There’s so many. And she had them made into the right shape, too.”
This, of all things, grabs Malos’s attention, and he narrows his eyes. “What shape?”
“You know.” Gared says casually. He becomes more so with each day, adding on forgotten ‘Sir’s whenever he can remember. The meaningless honorifics do nothing but draw out already unnecessary conversations, but even so, Malos doesn’t like the implication that this boy has become ‘comfortable’ with him. “The shape of the Core.”
Malos has to look down, wondering for a moment if the crystal in his chest has been uncovered, but it remains hidden away. Then, another possibility hits him. “You mean the ‘Core’ of Ter…”
“Tertius?” Gared finishes for him when Malos hesitates, much to the man’s frustration. It’s not his fault his Core lacks any useful information about this world.
He ignores the feeling for the time being, instead grabbing one of the crystals and holding it out in front of him. “The Core of Tertius looks like this?”
“Yes.” He answers surely, and then his confidence wilts. “Well, I’ve never seen it, but that’s what we’re told.”
“And the color- it looks like this?” Malos asks, curling the crystal in his hand when Gared nods. He makes up his mind quickly. “I need to go there.”
Gared’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “Y-You can’t.”
“These trinkets aren’t going to cut it.” Malos drops the crystal back into the box, quickly heading towards his other pile of scraps in the corner- pulling out the triangle-shaped piece of Core he had managed to find before. “If the Core of this place is anything like my Siren’s, I can grab some from there.”
If Jin’s theory is correct, and the world was in some way built from himself, then it makes sense that it would be powered by a Core similar to his own. Does that mean that Tertius is a Titan? It can’t be- at least, not in the traditional sense of the word. Malos would be able to detect that- not to mention that the lack of ether would have killed it. Unless, like Malos’s Core, it was able to survive.
“No, I mean it. Like, you really can’t.” Gared’s voice is fast, words slipping over themselves. He stands in front of Malos, as if to block his way, but when Malos continues forward, he can’t bring himself to stand his ground, dipping aside instead. That doesn’t stop him from following quickly behind. “It’s strictly forbidden. You got off easy before. No one really cares if you mine up the common stuff, but the Core ?”
“I was brought here in some kind of vehicle.” Malos finally pauses, swiveling back around towards him. “Can you get one of those?”
“ No !” Gared cries, as if every word that comes out of Malos’s mouth is one step closer to driving him mad. “If you go to the Core, they’ll strip you for parts! It doesn’t matter how much she likes you, you won’t be forgiven for this. Elohim himself will strike you down!”
Malos squints his eyes. “Parts?”
“Like- processors!” He points at his head when he says the words. Then, his fingers curl together nervously. “I heard about a man who went there three years ago. They say the soldiers stripped his skin and emptied the rest of him into a crate. They threw his carcass into the Abyss!”
Malos stares for a moment, in silence. “You really aren’t human, are you?”
It’s not a surprise- he’s known this for ages, but every new detail given to him seems to prove it more and more.
The question throws Gared off enough to pause his panic. “What’s human?”
“You don’t eat. Nothing could grow here- plants, animals.” Malos trails off, looking away for a moment before snapping his eyes back onto the young man. “Do you have animals?”
“An… imals?” Gared repeats slowly.
“Like-” Malos lets out a breath through his teeth. Despite it all, it is nice for once to confuse a Vos with unknown information than the other way around. “A creature. Not like you or me- more primitive."
“Like the Raels?”
“Raels?”
“You’ve gotta know what a Rael is.” And Malos’s short victory is lost as Gared begins to speak, acting as if these facts are simple, common knowledge. “Though I suppose they’re not seen very often up here. One time, a Rael broke into my grandmother’s-”
“Grandmother.” Malos interrupts him. “So you can… do that part?” At Gared’s stare, Malos shakes his head. “Never mind, I don’t want the details. Get me a vehicle.”
“Please stop talking about the Core.” Gared all but begs, walking alongside Malos as he makes his way to the very edge of the city. His Siren’s wreckage was kept in the outskirts, so it’s fortunately not a long walk. “Even if you made it there, you’d be caught! There are soldiers all over that place.”
A vehicle passes by them, driven by one of the uniformed men. He pays no attention to Malos or Gared, continuing along the road until it turns out of sight. It wouldn’t be impossible to steal one, surely, if it came to it.
“What’s that about?” Malos asks, instead.
Again, Gared pauses, confused. “What?”
“The soldiers.” Malos nods towards the car that has since disappeared. “Guards would make sense, but you said soldiers. Who's in charge here?”
“Uh, Loriatha, of course! She’s the Interpreter.”
“Are there others that don’t follow her? Or other species?”
“No.” Gared shakes his head. “It’s just us.”
“Why the soldiers then? Who is she fighting?”
“I… don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.” This, of all questions, seems to truly befuddle Gared. He says nothing for a moment, searching for an answer that must exist. “I suppose, anyone going to the Core is an enemy. That’s who they’re fighting.”
Malos scoffs. “Is it really that important?”
Every country protects their Titan’s Core, but to what extent? Torna did so more than any other, sealing it away and out of sight, but Mor Ardain? Uraya? Even Indol didn’t post more than a few guards. After all, the only real threat was another Titan, and what were guards going to do against that?
Gared, however, disagrees. “Yes! Very!”
Malos can’t help but keep pushing. “Why?”
He hesitates, and then speaks with a confidence that had been lacking in the conversation thus far. “It is what brings us life.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Gared looks like he wants to shout, but manages to keep his voice still. “I don’t need to know. It just is. Isn’t that enough?”
Someone must know, though. Malos thinks of a name easily enough, and Gared must, too. “You just trust her.”
“Yes.” Gared crosses his arms. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Malos can’t argue against that very easily. After all, he trusted his father’s word regarding himself for centuries. He didn’t need proof. He didn’t need a second opinion, or to see his own creation with his own eyes. He simply knew, and he trusted that.
And he caused Jin so much misery for it.
“How do you know her?”
“I’m- well.” Gared pauses, thinking of the right words. “I’m in training. To be the next Interpreter.”
That is a surprise, and Malos can’t hide it on his face. “ You ?”
“I know.” Gared’s shoulders fall, and it doesn’t do much to help him. Loriatha, despite the distaste Malos holds towards anything human-adjacent, is admittedly competent- or at least appears so. She puts on a good show. “I’m nothing like her, but I’m learning so much. One day, maybe, I’ll…”
“Why you?”
“It’s a vote by the council.” Gared explains. “They decide now, so she has time to train me before she’s gone. I only just found out a few weeks ago.” Gared shrugs, giving an awkward smile as he does so. “She’s my aunt, so that probably helped.”
As far as age goes, it’s hard to tell how long Vos live for. If they’re anything like humans in that regard, Loriatha is probably halfway through her lifespan, if not a bit more. It’s hard to imagine any amount of time being enough to fix everything wrong with this kid.
“Interpreter of what?” Malos finally asks, repeating a question that had been ignored weeks prior.
Gared, fortunately, is more forthcoming. “The will of Elohim. What else could it be?”
“Elohim?” Malos says the unfamiliar name back. “You said that before.”
“He’s the spirit of this world.” Gared raises his hands out to his sides, as if attempting to show all that this ‘spirit’ encompasses. “All that we are is thanks to him.”
It’s bullshit. That much, Malos knows for certain. There was nothing at the beginning besides him and his floating ship. There is no spirit of this world. No god. No Elohim.
With that lackluster answer, Malos pivots back to his original question. “Can you get me a car or not?”
“I can’t!” Gared’s panic comes back just as quickly as it left. “I’m… I’m not getting involved in this. And if you go, I’ll tell Loriatha.”
“You’re the future Interpreter, aren’t you?” Malos leans towards him, a mocking tone in his voice. “This is your land. You can do what you want.”
“Not yet! And either way, it’s wrong.” Gared shakes his head, his face twisted in disgust. “It’s a sacred place. You can’t just go there and take what you want.”
Finally at the edge of the city, Malos looks down into the darkness below. From here, he can truly see the pure size of this place. It’s far larger than any Titan, but smaller than the extent of Morytha. There’s nothing above him, making Neris the highest point on the land- the top of a massive mountain.
It’s rough terrain from the looks of it. There are roads alongside the edge, but walking on those would lead to his quick capture and return to Neris- possibly without the freedom to repair his Siren, this time. Healed, it wouldn’t be a problem to travel a less smooth path, but doing so with his crutch seems… difficult.
“Look, it’s not a big… deal…” Malos turns back around, his eyes narrowing on a metal creature sitting atop one of the buildings across the street. It looks shiny and metallic- with the light from above bouncing off of it and blinding him for just a moment.
Gared follows his line of sight, squinting as well a the brightness aimed right at them. He raises a hand to cover his eyes. “That’s a Raels! Like I was talking about before.”
Now, Malos remembers. He had seen one of these creatures before on his way to Neris, bound in the back of one of their vehicles.
“That’s a pretty common variety though.” Gared sounds a tad disappointed. “I’ve heard soldiers talking about larger ones down in the Umbilicus region that don’t even have wings. I saw one with four legs once, but it was pretty small.”
The creature cocks his head, eyes fixed on Malos- almost uncomfortable so. It launches off the house and lands just a few feet in front of them.
“Hey! Hey!” Gared says, waving a hand out to shoo it away, to little effect. “Get back.” Looking around, Gared finds a pipe-shaped piece of metal, and throws it at the Raels. It bounces off, and the creature looks unbothered by it. “We should go. These things can be really mean.”
Gared was right, it is animal-like. But unlike fur or feathers, it’s made entirely of stiff, black metal. Malos peers closer, towards its chest. There, he can see what looks like a faint, purple glow, leaking out from behind its dark casing.
The Rael looks away from Malos’s eyes, down towards his hand instead, still clutching the piece of his Siren’s Core.
“Mine.” Malos says in response, holding it closer to his chest.
The creature doesn’t look angry, but it does hop forward, just an inch. Then, without warning, it shoots out, digging its claws into Malos’s chest, and pushes him straight off the edge of the city.