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portvial · 1 month ago

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ok now that some time has passed and i feel more normal after a day of screaming with my friends, i'm starting to gather my thoughts.

there are a lot of theories out there already. some say the torchbearer we see isn't real and just blurry trying to trick clancy, others say it's a recent memory before they approached dema.

i'm gonna analyze clancy's pov thus far (this will get long, apologies):

we've known clancy has been in a very vulnerable state of mind for a while. the clancy album is, from beginning to end, a story about relapsing into harmful old habits and mindsets. this prolonged manic episode starts as soon as he comes down from the high of seizing for the first time back in voldsoy. he feels in control of something for once in his life. the line between morality and the end justifying the means begins to blur as he starts using the citizens as a way to get into dema and begin a revolution from inside the walls. this power, this control, it starts to intoxicate him. he feels overly confident in his newfound abilities, and this leads to overcompensating for the scared boy he used to be.

“I'm not as scared as I used to be. Their mystery begins to fade as a method to defeat them becomes more clear. I no longer feel powerless. I can outsmart them. This new power of psychokinesis worked, and I believe it can work again.”

— Clancy's journal. 024 02MOON 09.

“I found a way in. A way they'll never suspect, and a way they'll never understand. Everything about our cause is so hard for them to understand, but so close to the hearts of the glowing resistance. I can reach them all. I can recruit everyone with eyes that see beyond the horizon. I can teach them.”

— Clancy's journal. 024 02MOON 28.

but suddenly, we learn that the torchbearer, who has been loyally following clancy everywhere, isn't the same one who has been standing all the way across the paladin strait. or rather, it is a guide, a projection, as we later learn from tyler himself. torchbearer exists, but in the same way that clancy has finally found his powers, torch has been using his own. this puts a wrench in the plan. all of a sudden, clancy starts to rethink everything that's happened so far. was any of it real? was his mind playing tricks on him? did he hallucinate his companion for years? had his abused and tired mind, after years of smearings from the bishops, finally began to crack under the weight?

but most importantly, could he, despite all they'd been through together, truly trust torch?

why do i come to this conclusion? in one of the unused lyrics from digital remains, we see the following excerpt:

“Breaking alliances over the silences from ignited torches when the battle had begun.”

something broke along the way. the blind trust clancy and torch once shared had been, in a way, breached. clancy's mind is more vulnerable than ever, susceptible to the bishops' control. to nico, to blurry.

The evidence I planted on purpose

in another lyric from the unused song "drag path", we see clancy refer to himself as "useless", "worthless", "defenseless", his disappearance being a "minor inconvenience" for torch, just "a set back", as he waits to be rescued, "on the off chance" torch feels "compelled" to save him once again:

“A drag path etched on the surface

I'm here again, conscious but defenseless / worthless

A drag path that’s on etched the surface

The off chance that you feel compelled to save me again

A setback, for you, just a minor inconvenience

I’m confident you’ll find me

I dug my heels next to each other

As evidence for you to discover

A drag path that leads to my prison

I’m confident you’ll find me”

it is clear that clancy's self worth has taken a major hit, and he is no longer sure of his importance in torch's life, or in the rebellion's plan. "feeling the reality that everybody leaves", he sings in navigating, despite the fact that torch's touch, even through a projection, was enough to guide him back home.

torch attempts to communicate with clancy, to reassure him that he had in fact never left his side, despite his physical body not being there.

“I see the weathering on your face, and the journey you've been on. Although we were away, I hope you now know that I've never left you. [...]

Covering you, TB.”

— Letter from Torch to Clancy | FPE Minnesota + FPE Columbus N3

however, this letter ends up most likely intercepted by the bishops, as we saw in the FPE. there is a big possibility that clancy has never read it.

clancy's erratic and manic behavior starts to get noticed by the other banditos. some seem excited at the showcase of this power, but others question clancy's methods:

“Nico's power is the element that has given Dema and Vialism such an iron fist. More power, even if it's Clancy's power, will corrupt the movement we've fought so hard to bring to Dema. We are all one people, and people striving for hope and victory, not more tyranny. Clancy must know that!”

— Letter from Magnus to Baldur | FPE Bologna, Italy + FPE Manchester, UK

all of this brings us to the line:

My body's on the line now

I can't fight this time now

I can feel the light shine on my face

Did I disappoint you? Will they still let me over if I cross the line?

Take a seat, but I'd rather you not be here for

What could be my final form

Stay your pretty eyes on course

Keep the memories of who I was before

clancy is beginning to realize that there is no other way to destroy the bishops and reclaim dema than to put himself in harm's way. in a last moment of tenderness, he asks torch to remember him as he was, and their time together, but to keep moving forward no matter what.

torch, however, is having none of it:

CLANCY,

NEVER FORGET THE CRIES OF YOUR PEOPLE. NEVER FORGET THE RAW FEAR THAT FUELED YOU, OR THE REBELS THAT MADE YOU WHO YOU ARE TODAY.

WE ARE ALL ONE. WE DESTROYED THEM SO THAT WE DIDN'T BECOME THEM.

WE MUST DO BETTER, CLANCY. WE MUST DO BETTER.

— Letter from Torch to Clancy | FPE Hamburg, Germany

the tone is desperate, he is clearly trying to bring clancy back from the brink.

clancy replies to him, colder than ever, in a very worrisome letter depicting how his manic behavior has reached its peak:

TB,

The crown is heavy, but I can carry it. This city needs hope, and I alone can give it to them. But the city needs to feel powerful again, and snap out of the lifeless obedience they've been trapped in. I can give it to them. I gave them hope. I will be their example of absolute power. I feel alive again.

– Clancy

— Letter from Clancy to Torch | FPE London, UK

this feeling of euphoria, reminiscent of a manic episode, can only end in one way: crashing back down. backsliding, if you will.

it's possible that what we see in paladin strait, clancy climbing the tower alone and torch worriedly glancing back, is a detour from the original plan.

and finally, this brings us to the contract. we begin where we left off, nico choking clancy. he closes his eyes and we witness how he tries to fight off nico's control over his mind. the mv is a series of disorienting, confusing, twisted images, a hazy nightmare. red eyes surrounding him and torch, possibly depicting the glorious gones, or us as the audience, being controlled by blurry.

the leaves and the storm from the backslide mv, depicting a battle inside clancy who's trying not to relapse, not to succumb to nico's power

the lyrics are frantic, they show us a glimpse into clancy's mental state: sleep deprived, on edge, paranoid, obsessing over when and how blurry will attack.

My hallucination I used to see, it felt so real

clancy has convinced himself that their connection, their alliance, has been severed, their paths diverged. he doesn't trust his own mind anymore, if he ever did, and now reality starts to blur with dreams and hallucinations.

But now I plead, just take the deal

I promised you a contract

this is sung directly to torch, pointing at him. clancy promised torch a long time ago that he would go along with the plan, he would use his power to reclaim dema and defeat the bishops once and for all. but as said earlier, clancy realized that torch's methods would be futile if their goal was to succeed. there is no winning without him using all of his available power, even if it means losing himself along the way. so now he pleads for torch to take this deal. it isn't ideal, it isn't their initial plan, but a compromise must be reached.

in turn, this also works with torch offering clancy his jumpsuit, his rebel jacket. he promised him freedom, the only thing he has to do is take the jacket back and step away from the precipice, it doesn't have to be this way. we've seen clancy refuse it once, but we don't know if this is an scenario he imagined, or a distorted memory. we, just like clancy, cannot trust his mind anymore (if we ever could in the first place.)

the only thing that's left to see is what clancy will choose, what his next move is, and if the weight of this insurmountable power will be enough to completely corrupt him.

#twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots lore #breach #breach era #clancy #torchbearer #mine: theory #LISTEN i could be completely wrong with this #maybe everyone else is right and i'm just a dumbass #but that last line directed at torch???#that means SOMETHING #y'know what let's also tag this under #clancybearer

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findangoh · 1 year ago

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I just watched the opening ceremony with my sister and parents and let me tell you, my sister and I just loved the Assassin's Creed Torchbearer.

Our parents kept hypothesizing about them like my mom would be like "do you think it'll be a grand reveal of a famous person under the mask?" Or my dad would go "there's no way it's just one person, there's probably a bunch of people" and they just kept talking about a reveal at the end my sister and I kept just shushing them.

Like no. They were a cool entity, an intriguing ideal, a great execution of mystery that my sister and I weren't interested in solving. We just liked them for what they were and wanted to see more of them without necessarily seeing who was underneath.

Honestly, I'm glad they weren't unmasked. They were much cooler as a character and construct for the games than as a tangible person.

#torchbearer #Olympics #olympics 2024 #masked torchbearer #olympic torchbearer #assassin's Creed Torchbearer #my dudes i don't care about their gender they are cool

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witchyintention · 2 months ago

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Deity Studies: Hekate

The Liminal Queen, Keeper of Keys, and Torchbearer in the Dark

Imagine standing at a crossroads beneath a moonless sky. The world is hushed, wrapped in a velvet veil of shadow, and the only sound is the whisper of wind through the trees. Then—light. A torch flares to life, illuminating a figure who stands where the paths converge. She does not choose for you, but she watches as you decide. This is Hekate: goddess of transitions, thresholds, and mysteries too deep for daylight.

To call Hekate merely a goddess of witches is to undersell her drastically. She is the liminal embodied, a theon of sovereignty, magic, and protection. She guards the crossroads of not just roads, but life itself: birth and death, ignorance and knowledge, isolation and communion. And yes—she walks with the witches.

Let’s step into the shadows and light a candle for Hekate, one of the most ancient and enigmatic figures of the Western spiritual imagination.

Origins & Mythic Roots

Hekate’s roots stretch deep into the ancient world, and like many powerful goddesses, her origins are a bit cloudy—perhaps deliberately so. The earliest written record we have of her is in Hesiod’s Theogony (c. 700 BCE), where she is described as a Titaness, daughter of Asteria (a star-goddess) and Perses (a figure associated with destruction or ravaging fire). Hesiod paints her as beloved by Zeus, honored above all, and given dominion over sky, sea, and land.

Yes, you read that right: a Titaness who survived the Olympian overthrow not through defeat, but favor.

While later Greek and Roman writers narrowed her domain to the underworld and witchcraft, Hesiod’s portrayal makes her a solar and celestial power as much as a chthonic one. There are whispers she may have pre-Greek Anatolian roots, possibly connected to Carian or Thracian deities, given her widespread veneration in Asia Minor.

Even in the ancient world, Hekate was a complex composite. She wasn’t reduced to tidy categories like “love goddess” or “war goddess.” Instead, she hovered between roles, belonging to none and all.

Evolution Over Time

In classical Athens, Hekate began to be seen as a liminal guardian. She was invoked at doorways and crossroads, often in her triple form—three bodies or faces looking in different directions. These depictions likely developed from earlier singular statues but quickly became iconic.

Shrines to Hekate, known as Hekataia, were placed at thresholds—particularly at the entrances to homes and cities. She was called upon for protection, warding, and purification, especially in times of illness, political unrest, or spiritual impurity.

Over time, particularly in the Hellenistic period, Hekate’s chthonic associations deepened. She became a psychopomp, a guide of souls, and a mistress of necromancy and ghosts. Her epithets tell the story of her roles:

Kleidoukhos (Key-holder)

Phosphoros (Light-bringer)

Propylaia (Before the gate)

Chthonia (of the earth)

During the Roman period, she was increasingly associated with magical texts and rituals. In the Chaldean Oracles (2nd century CE), Hekate appears not just as a goddess, but as the Cosmic Soul—a metaphysical principle bridging the divine and material realms. This esoteric, Neoplatonic vision of her would later influence Renaissance occultism.

Like all goddesses of power, Hekate was reshaped through patriarchal lenses, alternately feared and revered, demonized and deified. But she never vanished.

Symbolism & Associations

Hekate’s symbols are rich and layered, often evoking mystery, power, and transformation. Some of her most enduring associations include:

Torches: Her most iconic symbol. As a torchbearer, she brings light to the darkness—both literal and metaphorical. She guides souls and seekers alike.

Keys: Representing her access to hidden realms and the power to open or close pathways—spiritual and mundane.

Dogs: Her sacred animal. Often described as black or spectral, her hounds are said to precede her arrival. In ancient rites, dogs were sacrificed to her at night. In modern practice, they are often seen as protective familiars or guides.

Crossroads: Both physical and symbolic. She governs places where decisions must be made or multiple realities converge.

Snakes: Tied to regeneration, earth wisdom, and the underworld.

The Moon: Especially the dark moon phase. While she isn’t solely a moon goddess, lunar imagery clings to her in modern depictions.

Herbs and Plants: Hekate is tied to powerful botanicals such as aconite, yew, garlic, and mandrake—plants with protective, poisonous, or liminal properties.

Her colors are often black, red, and deep purple—shades that echo her chthonic nature and her fierce autonomy.

Modern Pagan & Occult Views

Modern devotees often find Hekate at spiritual turning points. She is a patroness of witches, especially those walking eclectic, solitary, or non-traditional paths.

She has become a key figure in Hellenic polytheism, traditional witchcraft, Wicca, and devotional witchcraft alike. Contemporary Hekatean magic includes:

Deipnon rituals at the dark moon, where offerings are left at crossroads or outside the home to honor her and cleanse spiritual debris.

Key magic, using actual keys in spells to open or close situations.

Spirit work and necromancy, often in carefully constructed rituals with strict boundaries.

Shadow work and initiation, as Hekate is often invoked to aid personal transformation.

The Covenant of Hekate (CoH), founded by Sorita d’Este, has helped create a scholarly yet devotional network of Hekatean practitioners across traditions. Their work highlights how she can be both deeply personal and cosmically archetypal.

Importantly, modern Hekate isn’t just the spooky goddess of witch memes. She’s fierce, yes—but she’s also a guardian of the vulnerable, an advocate for liminal people, and a torchbearer for those finding their way in the dark. She asks for respect, not fear.

Pop Culture Presence

Hekate has made scattered appearances in pop culture, though she’s rarely portrayed with the nuance she deserves.

In the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, she’s invoked as a triple goddess of witchcraft, a welcome nod to her modern resurgence. In Percy Jackson & the Olympians, she’s a minor character with magical influence.

She’s also mentioned in various video games, such as Hades (by Supergiant Games), where her themes of guidance and transformation echo through aesthetics more than direct involvement.

Unfortunately, she’s also been lumped in with the generic “evil witch goddess” trope in some horror films and low-tier fantasy. These caricatures lack her depth and complexity—but perhaps that’s the cost of cultural persistence.

Reflection/Conclusion

Hekate is not a goddess you can put in a box—unless it's a locked one, buried at a crossroads, wrapped in nightshade and bound by oaths.

She is as much a guide as a mystery, and she rarely gives easy answers. Yet for those willing to sit with the unknown, to walk the winding path, and to light their own torch, she offers a powerful ally.

In her, we see the beauty of thresholds: places where things begin, end, and become. We find a goddess who honors the outsider, the seeker, the strange and sovereign self. Hekate reminds us that we do not walk alone, even in the darkest night.

So leave an offering, sweep your threshold, and listen closely the next time you find yourself at a literal or metaphorical crossroads. You may not see her—but you will feel her watching.

Further Reading

Sorita d’Este, Circle for Hekate (Vol. I & II)

Stephen Ronan, The Goddess Hekate

Sarah Iles Johnston, Restless Dead: Encounters Between the Living and the Dead in Ancient Greece

Cyndi Brannen, Keeping Her Keys: An Introduction to Hekate’s Modern Witchcraft

Theoi Project: Hekate Entry

Covenant of Hekate: hekatecovenant.com

May your keys rattle true, and your torch burn bright.

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nemotakeit · 9 months ago

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i've said it before but i really want to see the lore from torchbearer's perspective as well. we've followed the storyline mostly from tyler/clancy's pov so far and we're very familiar with his vulnerable moments and insecurities. from his perspective it's almost as if tb is this unwavering guiding light who perfectly knows what he's doing all the time, helping him and working in mysterious ways - which, again, reinforces the godlike image tyclancy seems to project onto him. unless tb is ACTUALLY a supernatural being, which i don't think he is, he has to have his own doubts/vulnerabilities/insecurities etc just like clancy. i kinda want to see past the near-divine frame clancy (an unreliable narrator i'd say) encased him in and get to know his side of the story.

#also i wanna know what happened before the known main plot #like how did tyler and tb meet #how did they become besties #was dema always there #is trench located in our irl world #did they have ordinary lives before dema #is dema some sort of purgatory or is it real #what is the goal of the banditos #are the bishops nonhuman beings #WHO IS THE ORIGINAL CLANCY #i have so many questions #hopefully some of them get answered by the end of it all #anyway i wanna get to know tb better #i cant believe we only got to hear him for the first time after 10 fucking years #tøp #twenty one pilots #clancy #torchbearer

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whatisgrief · 2 months ago

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Makin' My Way Towards You|| Chapter 4

Ship: Torchbearer x reader, Clancy x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide (Vialism), Reader is mentally worn out with Dema, mentions of death

Chapter 4: Up

“A letter?” (Y/N) asked incredulously. It was early, much too early to be awake, but Torchbearer had come bursting in, as he’d taken to doing since they’d gotten their own tents.

He insisted that it was no different to him shaking her awake early in the morning when they used to have to share the same cot, but it certainly felt different.

The man in question stood before her, eyes wide and cautious, messily dressed, clearly done in a hurry. In his hand, a scrunched letter. Without waiting for her to give permission or even scrub the sleep from her eyes, he plopped down on the edge of her bed, leaving her to sit up beside him, still wrapped in her blanket.

She looked cute like this, sleepy and slightly dopey, hair messed up and eyes squinting at the light adjustment.

He opted to ignore it for the mystery in his hand.

“Josh delivered it this morning. Says he found it on the outskirts of camp along his guard route,” Torchbearer answered as he ripped it open. The letter was torn, burning fraying the edges. Worn. It had clearly taken a great deal to get it here.

(Y/N) leant into Torchbearer as he pulled the letter out, chest pressed to his back as she read over his shoulder. Heat crept up his neck and to his ears, hands shaking slightly as he tried to hold the letter still.

“I am out here and I am very alive. I’m sometimes scared, but always discovering something new, and I will not stop. Cover me!”

(Y/N)’s eyes scanned the final lines with intrigue. Someone escaped Dema. Someone was out in Trench. No one had escaped since…

This was revolutionary. They had to find him, bring him home to camp and-

Her heart came to a shuddering stop when she read the name signed beneath it.

Clancy

She quickly snatched the letter from Torchbearer’s hands, pulling it closer to her eyes as she swept over the scraggled handwriting along the page. This was a trick. Torchbearer let out a resigned noise as she snatched it from him, leaning over her to try and peek back at the page.

“This is a trick,” (Y/N) snarled, rage filling her words and Torchbearer turned to her with confused eyes.

Anger seemed to spill into every inch of her body, trembling her hands slightly.

This was cruel. Beyond cruel, even for Dema. Dangling this before her. She already knew that they knew she was here.

“What? How can you be sure?” Torchbearer asked with furrowed brows, and (Y/N)’s eyes snapped to him, cold and hurt. She presented the letter to him, borderline thrusting it into his face.

“Nothing comes in or out of Dema. Ever. The bishops wouldn’t allow something like this out unless they were trying to lure us,” She snipped, words sharp. His eyes softened, something sad shifting behind them that she didn’t have the energy to unpack now “We have to move camp.”

“Maybe this is different. You got out so surely-” Torchbearer started, trying to pull (Y/N) back as she started clambering out of her cot. She turned suddenly, almost startling him back.

“It isn’t. Clancy was my friend in Dema, and no one was under the Bishops’ thumb more than him. If anyone was gonna escape, it wouldn’t be him,” (Y/N) snapped. Torchbearer could feel the anger vibrating under her skin, but he also saw beyond it. The way her eyes scrunched slightly as she spoke and the wobble in her lip, which she hid behind a suspiciously timed mouth wipe.

“Maybe we should explore this, (Y/N). Maybe you got lucky,” He offered gently, sliding his hand to hers, and gripping firmly. Grounding.

(Y/N) scoffed “Please. Luck doesn’t exist in that place. They’re trying to trick us and trap us and I am not letting them do to you what they did to me,” Her voice wavered, and she turned away almost immediately. THis wasn’t right. She knew the Bishops were cruel. She’d experienced that first hand but this…

Without wasting another second, Torchbearer rose to his feet, wrapping his arms around her. Against her better judgement she found herself melting into his touch. He always made her feel like everything was okay somehow, even now when it felt like her world was being barricaded with a machine gun. One hand rested on the back of her head, keeping her close as he shushed her quietly when she began to sniffle.

“Don’t pursue this. Please. I can’t-” Her attempts to speak were quickly foiled, and he shushed her again, nose pressed into her hair.

“Okay. Okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

—

The walk home seemed much less grueling than it had before. Clancy trailed behind (Y/N) and Torchbearer. She and Clancy hadn’t spoken much since they’d actually left Dema. It almost felt wrong. Like she resorted back to who she had been 7 years ago, with meek conversations and brushing hands in corridors. With Torchbearer it was easy - he’d never been part of her life before Trench but Clancy…

Sure, she was glad she got him out of that hell, but the longer she sat with his company, the more she found herself unsure of her company.

Torchbearer wasn’t oblivious to the shift.The beginning of the walk had grins, disbelieving laughter and excited squeezing of his arm, nearly knocking the torch out of his hand every time. Now it was nervous glances, biting of the cheek, and wringing hands.

“What’s going on?” Torchbearer asked in a hushed tone, leaning close to (Y/N) as they walked, mindful to not let Clancy or the rest of the banditos overhear. She jumped, almost startled by the sound of her voice and turned to him with an unsure look.

“Not here,” She replied quietly, and Torchbearer nodded. He understood - there had been many a time where he hadn’t wanted to air his dirty laundry out in front of the rest of their group. They’d have plenty of time. He was silent for a few minutes, eyeing her in deliberation before pulling his bandana down slightly.

“How did you know?” His question wasn’t an unfair one, but (Y/N) gave him an annoyed glance. Oh, there she was.

She’d answered this question this morning - yesterday morning? - did she really have to answer it again? “I saw it in a dream,” she said shortly, exhaustion starting to take its toll. There were still hours left of their journey, waiting in anticipation to hear the clopping of Nico’s horse in the distance. It was no wonder she was starting to get a little cranky.

Torchbearer raised his eyebrow in that condescending way that really got her nerves. “You’ve never had visions before,” His words didn’t hold an accusation, just curiosity and a mild concern. He hadn’t seen anything. He’d received no calling, and yet (Y/N), who’d never seen snippets of the future before had not only directed them, but been right.

Her eyes narrowed at him slightly, something Torchbearer couldn’t quite place settling on her shoulders, a mix between defensive and protective. A bite of sourness settled in his chest. He hadn’t seen her react to him like that since she escaped Dema.

“I didn’t say that,” She responded, keeping her eyes forward as they walked. Thank god the rest of the Banditos were chatting among themselves or attempting to make conversation with Clancy. Torchbearer’s head snapped to her, surprise in his eyes.

How the hell had she missed out that little detail?”

“What?” His voice was harsh and tense, and had they not been walking back to camp, he would've tugged her to somewhere private to give her an earful. She noticed the way his knuckles whitened around the torch.

Irritation sparked in her chest, her jaw clenching slightly, “We’ll talk about this at home.”

Despite the tension in his shoulders, his heart warmed anytime she referred to camp as home. It didn’t matter what mood he was in, hearing that could make him soften, hard exterior melting slightly. Which became the exact reason he couldn’t fight her.

“You can’t just-” He began, hard words cutting off with a sudden, sharp sigh. “Okay. Fine. We’ll talk at home.”

(Y/N) huffed, glad it was getting dropped even if just temporarily. She was not in the headspace to have this conversation right now. Constantly glancing over her shoulder, waiting to find Nico right behind them.

She hadn’t failed to notice Clancy’s rising anxiety with every step away from Dema. She knew it well. The creeping, crawling feeling of non-existence eyes on her skin, heart hammering so hard she thought it would beat right out of her chest and present itself to her, the inability to sleep because of the overwhelming, all encompassing dear that if she let her guard down for even a second she’d get dragged back to Dema. But also, the sickening feeling of suspicion of everyone around her, watching every little step and movement rhey took. When the banditos had first started joining the group, (Y/N) often found herself awake for days on end, taking every guard shift because she didn’t trust anyone but herself and Torchbearer to watch her as she slept.

Dema had that effect on people. It isolated, rooted the loneliness of the world into your very core so that you not only stopped reaching out to others inside, but made you want to do it. That’s why it was so easy for the Bishops to preach Vialism, she supposed. If she were completely alone, a life with no meaning and no real connection, why wouldn’t she end it? At least if she died, she’d join the Glorious Gone and her death would mean something. Could become something.

That’s how she used to think, anyway.

But it was because of that isolation that neither Clancy nor (Y/N) had done much to interact with the other since their initial reunion. Neither of them knew how to interact with someone else from Dema, no matter how long ago it had been since (Y/N) had escaped.

This was going to be a long trip.

–

Heavy eyes fell on (Y/N) when they reached camp, just before nightfall. Clancy glance around, wanting nothing more than to bolt, anywhere but here, where everyone scanned every bit of his body. He didn’t belong here and their eyes made sure he knew it. Banditos slowed their tasks, hands falling loose as they watched the crowd filter further in, eyes following Clancy as he walked by. Reaching the middle of the camp, (Y/N) turned around. She looked exhausted as she set herself in front of the loyal Banditos that had followed her to Dema and back, risked themselves inside the walls. That was more than she could have ever asked from them.

“Get some rest. You’re all excused from your duties for two days. Me and Torchbearer will sort out rotations,” (Y/N) called to the group, and the Banditos shared tired, triumphant smiles. Every single person pulled their weight around here, unless elderly or young, with little complaint, but after the long journey to Dema, taking a few days to recover was a luxury they very rarely received.

“Thank you all. We couldn’t have done it without you. Because of all of you, we made a mark in Dema, and managed to get someone out. Hopefully the first of many,” Torchbearers hand fell on Clancy’s shoulder, who gave an awkward nod, hands wringing where they were folded behind his back.

The crowd dispersed soon after, parents reunited with children, friends with friends, lovers with lovers. Despite the fatigue that dripped from her bones, (Y/N) always loved coming back from a long trip. Seeing the love in the camp. Nothing could take that away, not even Dema. She was lucky enough that the most important person to her was always on her journeys. She couldn’t, and frankly didn’t want to imagine waiting in anticipation for Torchbearer to get home, not knowing anything of what had happened until he returned. Or until he didn’t.

The Banditos had only lost two people in the last 7 years, but they had weighed heavy. The first was a hunting accident. No one really was to blame for it, but she had been a mother of two children, one of which had been the one to find her. It was one of the worst days they’d ever had. The second was a Bandito who’d been protecting her. Nico had come for her, this instance about four years ago. They’d been unprepared for it. He’d come in the middle of camp, sneaking through and managed to drag her nearly two miles away from camp after using “smearing” to render her helpless. He’d chased after them, no time to wake anyone else, attacking the Bishop and his horse until he pierced his heart. It had given her enough time to sprint back to camp, screaming and shouting to wake everyone up. When they’d gone back to attack, Nico was gone, with the corpse of the Bandito in his wake.

It was those graves they passed by as Clancy, (Y/N) and Torchbearer walked to the “Headquarters”. In reality it was just a tent that was marginally bigger than the others, with a map inside. Torchbearer and (Y/N) spent many hours here a week, trying to formulate Dema’s layout between their scouting and (Y/N)’s memory along with supply routes, hunting grounds and training areas. A small cot was set up in the corner, put up after (Y/N) had fallen asleep at the desk more than a few times. Mostly so Torchbearer didn’t have to deal with her whining afterwards of a sore back.

Clancy stood in the middle, awkwardly rocking on his heels. In Dema, (Y/N) had always thought he looked so cool and collected, compared to the nervous energy everyone else in that awful place carried with them. Out here though, he was lost, and the longer (Y/N) spent surrounded by her people and the smell of home, the more herself she felt. Funny how those things worked out.

Torchbearer pulled his bandana off, shrugging his overcoat off to leave him in a taped shirt. A piece of tape tugged his hair, and he tried to play it off, but (Y/N) couldn’t resist a fond grin as he tried to subtly pull it from his hair. Clancy caught it, glancing between the two with raised eyebrows. Hm. Finally freed from the shackles of yellow tape. Torchbearer leant back on the desk, muscles moving beneath his skin. Despite seeing it countless times before, (Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, looking away momentarily until he started speaking.

“We’re gonna have to set you up here,” Torchbearer stated, Clancy nodding along intently as he gestured to the cot in the corner. “Sorry it’s not more luxurious but we kinda left in a rush yesterday.”

(Y/N) ducked her head slightly but gave Clancy a reassuring smile when he looked at her unsurely “I’ll be able to set you up with your own tent tomorrow. It’s just for the night,” She offered softly. She knew he wouldn’t get any sleep. But the comfort of his own space would do him some good.

(Y/N) remembered the first time she’d slept in Trench. It had been the best sleep she’d gotten in her life. The tent was actually dark, unlike the neon lights in the middle of her room in Dema that never turned off. She wasn’t fighting the luminescent brightness that tried to peer its way through her eyelids.

Clancy nodded, a quiet “Thank you,” slipping from his lips, apprehensively taking a seat on the edge of the cot like a scared cat.

“They should be serving dinner soon, it’ll be out near the campfire,” Torchbearer added, eyes fixed on Clancy with a scary intensity. He didn’t mean anything by it. While he was suspicious of everyone that came into camp when they first joined, (Y/N) could tell that this was him trying to figure Clancy out. The man in question had always been an enigma, something she was sure had grown in the seven years they’d been apart. “You can go out and help yourself. They know you’re here.”

Clancy suddenly looked nervous, leaning forward in an attempt to look out the small gap the tent’s flaps provided, before turning back to (Y/N) and Torchbearer. His mouth opened a few times before he closed it, his teeth grinding as he did so. That was a lot of people to throw at one man who had spent his whole life in a place of isolation.

So with a soft smile, (Y/N) met his eye “Or I can bring you some. You’re probably tired after a long day,” She offered. She knew that wasn’t it, but it saved his pride.

He gave a brief nod, and that was that.

With a plan finally in place, Torchbearer pushed himself from the table, swiping up his bandana and hoodie with one hand. “If you need anything, (Y/N) and I’s tents are either side of this one. If you’ll excuse us, I think we have some things to talk about.”

Clancy shuffled his feet, nodding again just as Torchbearer began his walk out, catching (Y/N)’s wrist with his free hand as he passed.

He kept a tight grip until they reached his tent, pushing their way inside. He finally let her go when they’d reached the middle, using her wrist to push her in front so he could see her.

“So, when the hell were you going to tell me you had visions?” Torchbearer asked bluntly. The anger that had resonated in his voice earlier on their walk was gone by now, instead loaded with a mixture of hurt and confusion.

(Y/N) sighed, pushing her hair from her face. “Look, I didn’t keep it from you on purpose. I used to get visions all the time in Dema but it was minor things, like me tripping, or accidentally making noise in ceremony, getting breakfast. Until it wasn’t. One morning I woke up knowing how to get out. And once I was out I didn’t get them at all,” she explained, putting her hands out to level the conversation.

Torchbearer tossed his clothing onto his cot, fixing her with an incredulous look “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” (Y/N) replied. He knew her well enough by now to know when she was lying. She was a terrible liar. Her voice would get high and pitchy, and she’d glance around at an invisible crowd. This wasn’t one of those times. “And you just magically had one after 7 years?” When (Y/N) nodded, a puff of breath escaped him “Do you think this has something to do with Clancy?”

(Y/N) shrugged, a troubled look on her face. Her lip pulled between her teeth, worrying it gently “I don’t know. Maybe? The Bishops used to keep us together. We shared a room, were made to pray together, taken to ceremony together.”

“It seems too big of a coincidence that the first time you’ve had a vision in seven years was something to do with Clancy,” He returned. Not accusatory or harsh. Like the two of them were working together to put puzzle pieces back in their place “Maybe you two are linked?”

(Y/N) let out a quiet laugh at that. The thought was ludicrous. They were barely above strangers despite the years they’d known each other. “That’s an awful lot of maybe. It’s too early to say.”

“What, so we just wait it out? Wait for you to wake me up in a frenzy and rush out the door not knowing what we’re walking into?” Torchbearer threw back, and (Y/N) narrowed her eyes. His voice held no venom, just concern and confusion, but it irritated her all the same.

“You mean like I do for you?” She retorted and Torchbearer quickly stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Damn.

He shrugged slightly, a chuckle of defeat protruding his chest “I guess so,” he said softly. “I just-”

He took a heavy sigh, stepping closer. His two hands rested on the sides of her face, threading into her hair “We can’t be too careful with Dema. Especially now that we’ve broken Clancy out. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Had (Y/N) not grown used to Torchbearer’s overly personal affection, she may have freaked out. She was close enough to count his freckles, like a constellation over his face. Small white scars lashed his face, two by his eyes, one through his eyebrow and one curving over his upper lip. She’d tended to each and every one when they were fresh. His eyes were warm, a sea she’d willingly drown in all day if he let her. Eyes that felt like home, looking at her like she just put the stars in the sky, with a tint of fear behind it.

(Y/N) had been a mess back then, stuttering words, shaking hands, all from being in the proximity of him. His breath mixed with hers. He’d made fun of her for it later and the nervous, exciting magic of it quickly died.

But, as she found when he started seeking out her touch, the comfort of it never did.

She pressed her face into his touch, hands latching on his wrists, “I can’t promise that nothing will. But I will promise to be careful.”

Torchbearer sighed, leaning out of her space to set her with a hard stare “You better.”

Clanging and bashing sounded outside the tent, metal on metal. It would be supper soon. Jesus, she didn’t realise how ravenous she was. And how tired.

She pulled away from him slightly, right as her stomach growled, “I-I should go take that food to Clancy,” her voice was suddenly hushed and quiet, like she was scared to divert the moment. (Y/N) gathered herself, before heading to the tent exit. Torchbearer’s hands suddenly felt incredibly empty, cold, and his room lonely despite her not being out of it yet.

Peeking her head out of the tent, she met him with a bright smile, eyes bright, if not weary, “We’re so close to something Torch, I can feel it.”

And then she was gone, like a vulture in the wind.

There had been a lot of those around lately.

“Not close enough,” Torchbearer muttered to himself earnestly, sitting down with a huff. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

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