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coffeeghoulie · 2 months ago

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broke the mold (change will come)

chapter 4: i will never believe in anything again

so it's been a while, huh? I spent the last month or so working on another project, and that's finished and earned approval from the people I wanted it from, so it's finally time to give you all this. since it's been a hot minute, I am linking chapters one, two, and three if you need to get caught up or refresh your memory. Thanks for sticking with me!

Contains reconciliation and what it means to forgive. The bittersweet thought of making peace with where you came from. Bonding moments and coming home. Walking the lines between dreams and religious visions. A return to faith. Becoming someone you were always meant to be. 15.2k.

I hate to put this on hold again, but I will be working on Chapter 5 after Mushy May. To tide you over until then, I do recommend reading (or rereading, if it's been a while) Eternal Heatstroke. It'll make some things in chapter 5 make a little more sense ;)

Much thanks again to @mintea-in-space for all of the Cardinal Consulting <3

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

All things considered, Aurum knows what it’s like to walk on eggshells. He falls back into old, painfully familiar patterns after the fight and the Cardinal’s too-gentle scolding. He makes himself as small as he can in the already cramped bus and backstage.

Thankfully, the vitriol lessens with time, as slowly as it may come. The Cardinal had told them all to apologize, but so far, everyone’s been avoiding the behemoth in the room, and it’s not affecting the shows. At least, as far as Aurum can tell from up on his platform.

It hurts, a little bit, to be so alone up there while he watches the rest of them interact and fool around. But he knows what he’s done. He does not blame them one bit.

He slips into old habits, makes himself quiet and as still as he can manage until the lights go on and the Rituals begin. The moment he walks backstage after bows, he tucks all of himself back into that little shell, minds his own business as he changes and cleans up and helps tear down. It makes him sick to think about how comfortable it is to confine himself again.

But he does it, because he does not want to risk going back. That will kill him, and he will take the half life over that.

He hops off of his platform and follows the Cardinal out of sight of this gathered crowd as Miasma starts. It is dark and warm with body heat backstage, despite being away from the blinding spotlights. It is a reprieve, gets most of the eyes off of him. Aurum knows he has no real room to complain about the attention, knows that it is his duty, the reason he is Up Top.

But it doesn’t mean the quiet doesn’t go unappreciated.

He moves quickly, helping the Cardinal change from one tight suit to another. The Cardinal looks back to the stage entrance, and there’s a look that Aurum recognizes in those two toned eyes.

“I imagine-” he says, words catching in his throat. The Cardinal head whips back to him. The Eye burns the crown of his head even through the balaclava and chrome mask. “Forgive me, Cardinal.”

“Bah, enough of that,” he says, waving a gloved hand in Aurum’s direction. He helps him step back into his shining leather shoes. “No more of the formalities, my ghoul. I think we are past that point, no? Call me Copia.”

This change has gone much faster than normal, still a few minutes left before Miasma ends. Nihil’s corpse hasn’t even been hauled on stage yet to be resuscitated.

Aurum’s brow furrows as he takes in the Cardinal’s words. “Thought I was in your service,” he says, waiting for the Cardinal to gesture and wave him back to his feet from where he’s crouched. “Thought it was respect or something.”

“I think, out here, I am not your superior. We all are part of the show. We are a team, no?”

Aurum nods and straightens his suspenders from where they’re slipping off of one of his shoulders. “I suppose so.”

The Cardinal- no, Copia takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders. They wait together in the dark. “Have you spoken to the others yet? About the, eh, disagreement?”

That’s sure putting it lightly. “Not yet, Copia,” Aurum breaks eye contact. “I, uh, a little too nervous yet.”

“But you’re so cool and composed out there,” Copia knocks a fist loosely against Aurum’s shoulder. Teasing, or at least, trying to.

“Yeah,” Aurum tries to flash a smile. The mask hides just how unconvincing it feels. The two of them settle back into near silence, the speakers making dust spill from the ceiling as the bass rattles the entire building.

He’s struck by a burst of curiosity. Guilt and shame come up with it like acid at the back of his throat. “Copia?” he tests, shifting a little on his feet.

“My ghoul?”

“I think you know I’m not exactly religious,” Aurum says, carefully watching his own tone, trying to keep it neutral. “I’m doing my best to keep up with the rest of you doing all of this. But do you think He makes mistakes?”

Copia laughs. It sounds relieved, Aurum thinks. “I think He does. I deeply believe that He is fallible. But I believe, just like His children, He does His best. We are made in His image, after all, and He has never once claimed to be perfect. We cannot expect perfection from ourselves.”

Aurum takes a deep breath. His head spins. He convinces himself that it’s just too hot back here. “That, that’s not exactly what I was led to believe,” he mutters, rolling up his sleeves to counteract the heat. Aurum crosses his arms over his chest, scuffs his shoe against the concrete like a petulant kit. “Not really reassuring, either.”

“We all make mistakes, Multi,” Copia says, setting a gloved hand on his shoulder. “But the difference between the Olde One and His Forsaker is that one mistake will never bring about the end times. I don��t know who taught you that He demands perfection, but the Prince knows we are flawed and accepts that of us. He knows we cannot be perfect.”

“One mistake won’t,” he breathes. Aurum slips somewhere in his mind he doesn’t want to be. Imagines voices he hasn’t heard in centuries. “But if we keep making mistakes? Or we know we’re doing bad things and keep doing them anyways?”

“Then there are consequences,” Copia shrugs. “Real, earthly consequences. My predecessors made mistakes. And the Clergy… removed them from power, so to say. But that’s not exactly a fair example. I don’t know how much the Serpent Deceiver tipped those scales. But if we know we’re doing bad things, we cannot be surprised when they come to bite us.”

“And if they kept happening, over and over again, and the consequences never came? If they got away with it?”

The Eye stares right into his very core.

“Oh. I see.”

Aurum’s not exactly sure what Copia’s seen. Something deeply vulnerable that Aurum’s never said aloud, no doubt. Nihil’s saxophone blares, and both men startle, starting to head back to places.

Copia leans in, and just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd, he whispers. “For what it’s worth, Multi, I pray that consequences will come. For whoever made those mistakes. I pray that He sees.”

Aurum takes a shaky breath. Shakes out his hands. “Thank you, Copia.”

The Cardinal flashes him a smile and the show goes on.

The days pass in the buzz of a busy routine, travel during the days, put on a show at night, pile back on the bus to do it again in a brand new city. Aurum’s reminded of walking the Circles, seeing all these new places, even if this time it’s through the blur of motion on endless stretches of highways.

It takes a toll on all of them, and Aurum even more so, still walking on eggshells as to not provoke another blowout fight. There’s a little voice that itches to poke the bear, the same one that’s always whispered to him, but he’s so exhausted that it’s easy to ignore it.

Aurum is quick to learn and appreciate the reprieve of a hotel night, rooms randomly assigned but outfitted with actual, full beds that blow the size of the bus bunks out of the water. It’s been a little dicey since the fight, but everyone is equally ready to just pass out on a comfortable mattress that there hasn’t been any room sharing incidents.

Copia hands out keycards in the lobby of a hotel in some city that Aurum can’t remember the name of and can’t be bothered to try. Distantly, he sees Copia hand the matching card to Dew and winces.

Inconsiderate son of a bitch rings through his mind, a phrase yelled in several different voices, and he shakes his head to rid himself of the intrusive memory.

Dew pays him no mind. The fire ghoul rolls his shoulders, careful not to disturb the duffle bag bigger than his torso slung over one of them. Aurum watches him glance to Mountain, and then to Aether.

He must feel Aurum staring, because he turns to meet his eyes, blue and burning through the human glamour he’s wearing. Aether follows his mate’s gaze, and there’s no mistaking the anger there. Aurum looks away as the pack breaks for the elevators. Copia’d been saying something, but it’s lost to him.

Aurum reshoulders his own bag and follows the pack.

To very little surprise, Dew doesn’t go to the room number they’ve been assigned. Instead, he follows Aether into his and Mountain’s room. “I’ll be back after a while,” he says nonchalantly as he passes Aurum. He nods, lowers his head and unlocks the door.

Two queen beds. A nightstand. A dresser. The door to the adjoining bathroom. Nothing new here. Aurum sets his bag down on the bed furthest from the door. He's not worried about waiting up for the smaller ghoul. Dew's got his own keycard. It'll be fine.

The hotel room is identical to the dozen others Aurum's been in since he and the others left on this tour. He tosses his bag onto the far bed, grabbing his toiletries and ducking into the bathroom. Dew's not here to bitch at him about hogging the shower, he might as well take advantage of it.

The heat of the spray makes Aurum groan, eyes fluttering shut as long tense muscles start to relax. He's been wound up for so long, his back protests as the water hits it. The tile warms under his feet. He can feel every drop trail down his body, the pressure and heat blissful.

If he were feeling particularly sacrilegious, he’d call it heavenly.

He doesn't know how much time he spends in the shower. He washes his locs thoroughly, fills the bathroom with the scent of the hotel-supplied soap on the steam, scrubs the grime of touring from his body. Aurum even lets go of his glamour, carefully washing his horns and claws.

He goes to wash his face and winces at the sharp scrape of stubble against his palms. He doesn’t mind the stubble normally, but for some reason, right now, the sensation is driving him up the wall. There’s a razor in his bag, figures now is as good a time as any to shave.

Aurum turns off the shower, the pipes creaking as the water stops. He squeezes water from his locs, dries off perfunctorily before wrapping the towel around his waist. The steam billows out after him as he steps into the main room. He shivers against the air conditioning as he grabs his razor and shaving cream, stepping into a pair of boxers, because of course he forgot to grab his clothes.

Dew hasn’t come back yet, the second bed on the far side of the room still made pristinely, almost military. No trace of him or his belongings. Aurum just shrugs and steps back into the bathroom. No reason to be worried quite yet. He takes his time shaving, making sure he catches every last bit of stubble.

It’d been starting to itch, drive him a little crazy. But the feeling of smooth skin lifts a little bit of weight from his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, floods his lungs with sandalwood and steam, and rinses his face clear.

The mirror’s been steadily clearing, a rush of cooler air from the main hotel room fighting against the steam from the shower.

When Aurum lifts his head from the sink, water droplets rolling down his cheeks, he meets someone else’s eyes in the mirror.

The razor clatters in the basin of the sink. All Aurum can hear is ragged breathing. He grips the porcelain so tightly he fears his strength will leak through his glamour and shatter it. But that’s all an afterthought.

None of it matters.

Because Ignis is staring right back back at him.

His baby sister’s all grown up from the very last time Aurum had seen her. Her eyes are wide, lips parted. Damp locs falling loose down her bare shoulders.

The shred of logic left in Aurum’s brain reminds him that of fucking course he sees her in his own reflection, they’re siblings, they looked alike once upon a time, they share the same features. But Aurum can’t look away.

The barrage of every single emotion he’s pushed away for centuries hits him. Pins him in place like an insect on a corkboard. All of the guilt and anger and fear. He’d betrayed her and Tilly when he’d left home. Willed himself not to think of them and his ultimate, unforgivable sin.

He doesn’t know what happened to his sisters after he wasn’t there to take the brunt of Pyra’s anger for them, and the thought makes his stomach churn violently. Had they been able to hold up perfection like a shield the way he never could? What had he doomed them to? What had happened to his sisters?

Iggy keeps staring at him in the mirror. His eyes are going dry but he can’t blink. He thought he’d never see her again and here she is and she hates him, panic and fear bright in her eyes.

Aurum shakes his head hard.

Iggy shakes her head at him and then she’s gone, and he’s just left with his own reflection. He pushes back from the sink before he sees anyone else in his own features, stumbling back into the main room. There’s a pair of scissors in his bag. He’s not quite sure where he picked them up from, but that doesn’t matter.

He needs to cut off his locs and he needs to do it right this fucking second.

It’s how Iggy’d worn her hair their entire lives until he’d left her behind in that hell. He doesn’t want the reminder of what he’s done any more. He can’t bear it. He doesn’t know if he’s going to vomit or just straight up shatter into a trillion tiny shards for the ghouls to sweep up when they find him.

He finds the scissors shoved into his bag, the metal sharp and silver and shining in the lamp light, and rushes back into the bathroom. The door creaks, but Aurum can’t hear it over the sound of blood moving with his hammering pulse.

Aurum gathers up all of his locs, opens the scissors with a squeak from the hinge. He takes a deep breath and goes to close the scissors just above his shoulders.

Someone clears their throat behind him.

He freezes. Muscles tense almost to the point of pain. Aurum blinks back into his body. Feels eyes on the back of his neck. He does not look away from the mirror, but sees someone standing in the threshold to the bathroom in the reflection.

“Whoever it is you see in there, doing that isn’t going to make them go away. Believe me.”

Dew’s voice is rough, and so, so tired. His thin lips quirk up in a sad smile. He gestures halfheartedly to his own hair, where the copper strands rest choppily against his shoulders. Dew smiles sadly.

Aurum looks back to his own reflection. Tries to find Iggy in there again.

She’s gone.

All that’s there is his own face staring back at him. And that hurts worse.

Aurum hears the clatter of metal on ceramic, too loud and rattling in his brain, knees buckling so hard he has to grip the edges of the sink for any chance of staying standing.

Distantly, he sees Dew’s eyes go wide in the mirror, pushing up off of the doorframe and approaching him.

“Multi,” he says, quieter than Aurum’s ever heard him. “Multi, can you hear me?”

Aurum can’t look away from his own eyes. Dew moves even closer in his peripherals. He’d growl in warning but his voice is gone, Iggy’s taken all of his words from him.

A shaking hand touches his shoulder, burning warm. Aurum’s breath hitches violently at a touch too gentle for him to deserve. “I- I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m sorry, Dew. I’m so sorry for this, don’t touch me, I can’t- don’t-”

Aurum’s voice chokes into sobs, and he hates himself for it. He collapses in on himself, shoulders curling in. His knuckles ache but he doesn’t ease up his grip on the edges of the sink.

Over his shoulder, Dew gawks. It makes the shame ignite in his chest, burning and painful and just makes him sob harder. His head hangs, vision growing blurry and fast.

“Hey, Multi,” Dew tries again, pulls himself together, stoic like the ghoul he’s been watching on stage for weeks. The warm hand never leaves his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He can’t bring himself to protest as Dew leads him out of the bathroom. Barely registers sitting down at the foot of one of the beds, scratchy covers under his thighs. Dew’s hand shifts down from his shoulder to between his shoulderblades.

Aurum tries to pull himself together. Cuts himself on broken pieces as he holds them tight to keep them from shattering across the room more so than they already have. Dew doesn’t- Dew should be- He slumps forwards, shoving his face in his hands, propping his elbows on his knees.

“Don’t be nice to me,” he hisses through hitched breaths. Every muscle in his body tenses nearly to the point of pain when Dew’s hand leaves him for the slightest moment. It returns just as fast as it’s left and he cannot stop himself from melting into it.

He can’t even deny himself that tiniest point of comfort even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. At the very least, not from Dew. Anybody but Dew.

But, somehow, Dew doesn’t share this sentiment. He doesn’t pull his hand away, watches with horrified concern as Aurum digs the heels of his hands into his eyes in some futile attempt to staunch the tears. ‘We are meant to share our burdens,” Dew says, not accusatory. “We were not meant to do this alone.”

Dew stays, and Aurum is greedily grateful, a tiny bright spark in the sea of disgust and shame crashing inside of his body. Even as he cries himself out, his fire evaporating each tear before it can drip from his chin, Dew stays.

“I’m- I’m supposed to be fire, this isn’t right,” Aurum chokes out. “I shouldn’t be this.”

He can feel Dew’s eyes burrowing into the side of his head. He curls even further on himself in a way that would be comical for a ghoul of his size in any other situation.

“What do you mean?” Dew whispers. It’s softer than he’s ever spoken to Aurum in the few months they’ve known each other. “Multi?”

“I’m fire. My mother and father are both fire. I shouldn’t be this,” he practically spits. His hands fall from his face, furiously picking at the dry skin around the base of his claws until it stings. “I’m wrong, this is wrong, I’m just a bad fire ghoul. He made me fucking wrong. I shouldn’t be here, you’re right.”

Dew stays silent for a painfully long moment, and Aurum feels the shame and fear rising. His body tenses, ready to lunge or run or do something.

But then Dew sighs, and the hand leaves his back and he flinches hard. The sound of fingers raking through fine hair and something like beads running against each other. Dew presses something warm and smooth into his hands, and his eyes fly open to find a familiar mother of pearl rosary resting in the palm of his hand. Aurum startles.

“I can’t take this, I’m not- He doesn’t-”

Dew sighs again. His thin lips quirk up in a half hearted smile as he presses the rosary firmer into Aurum’s grip. “It helps to have something to hold onto, at least when I feel like this.”

Aurum swallows hard, shame turning to guilt. The pearls on their strand pool through his fingers, Dew’s warmth baked into them. “Sorry-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, copper hair brushing over his shoulders. Another deep breath as Aurum struggles with his own. “You were right, you know?”

Aurum whips his head to face Dew, all pretenses of hiding his tearsoaked face gone. “What?”

Dew glances up to meet his eyes. He doesn’t seem to care how bloodshot and puffy they are. “You said you saw a water ghoul when you were summoned. You were right.”

“Oh- I’m-” Aurum flounders.

“My dam was fire,” Dew says slowly, not quite making eye contact. “But my father is water, and I was raised with my aunt’s school, out in the Fifth. I barely had any fire. Just had to struggle a little with my magic and no one who wasn’t important knew that I was anything but water.”

“What happened?” Aurum whispers, unable to temper his curiosity. He scrubs moisture from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

Dew shrugs. His smile turns sadder and he stares at the wall. “I was summoned, served dutifully as the water ghoul in the Project. And then, when things got… shaken up, before you came. We needed a new fire ghoul.”

Dew’s voice hitches, but he does not call attention to it, so Aurum just watches and listens, fidgets with the rosary in his hands. Tries to remember what each bead was for and fails.

“And we got you when the Cardinal tried summoning his first ghoul. I don’t know why they started him with fire. Fire ghouls are difficult to summon, even for the most skilled summoners. But you were his very first ghoul, and the Clergy thought you weren’t going to pull through and they still needed a fire ghoul, so I volunteered. And now I’m this.”

“’M sorry-” Aurum tries again.

Dew whips around to face him. There’s something burning in his eyes and Aurum holds his ground. “Don’t be. I chose this. Even if I have no fucking clue what I’m doing and most everything I know is gone. And I think, I think we’re in the exact same boat.”

Aurum blinks. Takes a shaking breath as deep as he can. He nods.

“We’re both the first of our kind, Multi,” Dew sighs. He looks away. His spindly fingers twitch in his lap and Aurum is struck with the motion to hand his rosary back to him. Dew laughs softly and accepts, winding the strand of pearls between his knuckles. “You are the first multi-element ghoul to survive a filtered summons, and I’m the first ghoul to, all my gratitudes to the Olde One, successfully survive an elemental transition.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Aurum admits sheepishly, his tail curled around his calf. “I don’t- we’re not- those are different.”

“Not by much,” Dew shrugs. He glances to the smoke alarm above the door before summoning a shaky ball of flames, no bigger than a quarter, in his palm. “We both survived something thought unsurvivable. I’m learning to be something that I’ve hidden away all of my life. And from what you just told me, you’re doing the exact same.”

“Doesn’t give me the excuse to threaten you like that,” Aurum mumbles. The flames in Dew’s palm are whisked away, vanishing into air.

“Multi, you don’t scare me,” Dew shrugs. “And I don’t think I blame you. And I know I haven’t seen you at Mass or in the chapels back home-”

And isn’t that a novel concept, Aurum thinks. Home.

“-and I don’t know if I’m crossing a line. But I do truly believe that we were not created to handle our problems on our own. That the Prince meant for us to help each other. Despite everything, I want to make this pack work, Multi. Doing this, serving the Prince, playing His praise, is how I worship and make peace with everything that’s happened. I hope, maybe someday, that it’ll help you too.”

Aurum turns to look at Dew, takes in his profile as the fire ghoul stares straight ahead at the tackiest décor he’s ever seen in his life. They sit in silence for a moment. Aurum knows what he’s supposed to say, but those two words sit heavy in his throat and refuse to budge. Exhaustion wracks his body, the afterimage of his baby sister’s face seared into the backs of his eyelids.

“I want to do this job,” Aurum breathes. He watches Dew’s ear twitch, but there’s no other reaction. “I want this to work. I don’t want to go back.”

Dew huffs a laugh. “Megs put in too much effort on you. He’ll put up a fight before you’re sent back to the Pits, and he’s too valuable a ghoul for the Clergy to lose.”

Aurum doesn’t focus on what that particular statement means. “Thank you,” he whispers instead.

“I know the Cardinal wants us to apologize,” Dew says nonchalantly. “And I will. I’m sorry for getting in your face and pushing you for a reaction. I was trying to demand perfection against my own beliefs. Because I know what happened the last time people I cared about made too many mistakes.”

Aurum’s breath hitches, vision blurring with tears once again. Dew’s hand finds the small of his back and he cannot help himself but lean into it. He doesn’t trust his voice. Dew doesn’t seem to mind at all.

They sit like that for long enough for Aurum to cry himself out, silently barring a few hitched, wet breaths.

Dew stands, offers him a sad smile. “It’s late, we’re back on the road in Lucifer only knows how few hours.”

Aurum nods, wipes the last of the moisture from his freshly shaven cheeks before his body heat makes them steam away.

“And for what it’s worth, Multi?” Dew says as he turns away to rummage in his bag for a clean shirt. “He doesn’t make us wrong. He makes us like Him.”

He takes a deep breath, lets that sit in the very core of him, and starts to get ready for bed.

Aurum dreams, tossing and turning in the luxury of a full sized bed. She smiles at him, the exact same as his own, and then she’s gone.

When he wakes to the sound of Dew praying softly, he’s not upset at the sight of Ignis in his dream the way he might have, once. He holds her close to his heart and gets up to get ready. There’s no use trying to change where he came from. He has nowhere to go but forward.

They soundcheck He Is at the next Ritual. Aurum sings and plays and warms up with the rest of them.

But his eyes are locked on Dew, kitty corner on stage from his platform. They aren’t wearing their masks or balaclavas, the summer heat just on the wrong side of unbearable with the sun still in the sky, blinding and bright. Dew’s copper hair catches the light, choppy as it hangs loose over his shoulders. It glints like wrought metal, and almost reminds Aurum of the adornment he once wore.

He can’t help but think about that last conversation. About the undeserved gentleness he’s never seen from the fire ghoul.

Aurum is not a pious ghoul. Sworn up and down he’d never think of the Prince again. He knows the irony of that, standing here alongside the Prince’s very own Mouthpiece, singing songs of worship and praise disguised as a rock show.

He watches Dew as the chorus ends and Dew steps a little closer to the edge of the stage for his solo. It’s not complicated technically, far simpler and calmer than the guitar solos Dew plays during the rest of the setlist.

But Dew shuts his eyes, fingers flying gracefully over fretboards and strings and he almost seems to sink into it. His breathing is deep and steady and if Aurum didn’t know any better-

He remembers the other parts of that conversation. Music as worship and as prayer.

Aurum stares at Dew. At the ghoul who’d comforted him when he didn’t deserve it. Who’d been going through his own hardships and remained just as faithful as when he went into them. He remembers the feel of those pearls sliding through his fingers.

He shakes his head with a little smile, readjusts the weight of his own guitar over his shoulders, and carries on.

Aurum had learned quickly on the road that his and his fellow ghouls’ duties did not exist solely on stage; helping offstage after the Rituals is just as important, and Aurum takes the opportunity happily. He and Mountain and a human roadie load a bus with crates of electronics needed for the stageshow. It’s heavy and it’s physical and his body aches from weeks of hard work but it is satisfying in a way that feels content.

And the best part is, he’s not expected to talk. As long as the work is done properly and somewhat quickly, he can keep his mouth shut. Mountain seems to enjoy the quiet. Aurum isn’t going to step on any toes, remembering the way Mountain loomed over him. Tossed him back to an angry, vengeful quintessence ghoul like it had meant nothing.

Mountain huffs, hauling another crate of equipment onto the bus. Aurum startles a little at the noise. The earth ghoul’s already dripping sweat from the Ritual itself, and he watches bead after bead slide down from his glamoured hairline.

Aurum works in silence, taking a crate from the roadie and sending it Mountain’s way. He shuts his eyes for a second, lets the haze of adrenaline coming down dull his mind for a moment. Doesn’t have to think, just needs to haul crates. Can be useful in a way he knows for certain he can be.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did, Multi.” Mountain says, breaking the silence. Aurum freezes, looking up from the crate of electronics to try and meet the earth ghoul’s gaze. It doesn’t work, Mountain not even looking at it. “I know the Cardinal wants me to, but I cannot.”

His hackles raise a little, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back.

Mountain notices his pause, looks up. Emerald green eyes burn in the dark, just a little too bright to truly pass as human. He huffs, top lip quirking up in a tiny smile before he shakes his head. A sweaty strand of auburn hair slips out from where he’d tied it back and drapes over his forehead. “I’d be lying if I did,” he says, like that’s reassuring at all. “And I don’t regret it at all.”

Aurum stares for a moment longer. He can’t get a read on the older ghoul. The human tech behind him clears his throat, and he startles, handing the crate in his hands to Mountain before taking the next one.

The earth ghoul pauses once the crate is stowed, glancing once at Aurum. “That’s a little harsh, I understand-” and Aurum wants to scoff, a little harsh? But he’s never heard Mountain speak this much at once, and he wants to listen. He has to try.

“But I will do anything to protect Aether and Dewdrop, and you got in between me and them. They are the last pieces of the life that used to be mine. I didn’t fight hard enough for the rest of it. I- I didn’t fight for them. I ran. And I will never make that mistake again. And I will not apologize.”

Mountain turns, leaving that to sink in for a moment. “Wait- what do you-”

“Did Copia ever tell you how he got control of the Project?” There’s no malice in the older ghoul’s voice, just curiosity. “Why we needed so many new ghouls?”

He shakes his head. Mountain takes the last crate and stows it, closing the compartment on the bus. The human tech whose name Aurum can’t really remember disappears back into the venue, leaving the two of them somewhat alone in the cool night air. Mountain leans up against the bus, groaning as he stretches his back.

“He didn’t tell me,” Aurum says, rolling an ache out of his shoulders. “Just that he needed new ghouls.”

Mountain takes a deep breath. Takes his hair down and reties it, meticulously sweeping back the little auburn wisps that had escaped his hair tie with his effort. “I don’t blame Copia for what happened. I knew him briefly before, he seemed content to run the Treasury. I think he had very little to do with the change of management for the Project. But before him, I served Papa Emeritus the Third. He summoned me. And Aether. And Dewdrop. And-”

His voice hitches violently, and Aurum reaches out, stopping short of actually touching him. Mountain huffs softly, and to Aurum’s horror, those emerald eyes get even shinier.

“And when my Papa no longer was a satisfactory Mouthpiece for the Clergy, they- He was deposed and murdered. Along with his brothers. His own father-” Mountain growls, lip curling up in a snarl. “And then. With our summoner gone, my pack, and the packs of ghouls summoned by my Papa’s predecessors, started to go missing. One by one. Starting with the ghoul they intended for you to replace. Until only three of us remained. And frankly, I don’t even think I was meant to survive. I think I just got lucky. I miss them.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers, finding the courage to rest a hand on Mountain’s bicep.

“Don’t be,” he says lightly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye, bright and gleaming in the dark. “You had nothing to do with it. This was before you came.”

“But I made things worse,” he shrugs. There’s no self deprecation in it, objective as he can. “Lashing out for stupid reasons, I think.”

Mountain raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think they were exactly stupid, Multi. You’ve had your life torn up and you almost died for it. I understand why you’ve been lashing out, even if I didn’t agree with your methods.”

“I wasn’t thinking. And besides. It feels like the rest of you have been through worse. I’ve got no excuses.”

Mountain laughs. “That’s subjective, Multi. You lost your old life, and we lost ours. Pretty even playing field, huh?”

Aurum stares off at the city skyline. Mountain’s hand on his shoulder startles him, and he tips his head back just enough to meet his eyes. “I am, and I will not speak for Dew and Aether, trying to make up for what I lost. Make this new pack mine. Multi, listen to me, okay?”

He nods, feeling the weight and warmth of Mountain’s hand even through a layer of fabric.

“I have been angry for a very long time. It is exhausting. It is killing me. I do not want Dew and Aether to watch me succumb to it and lose another piece of their old life.” Mountain growls, and even in his human glamour, it’s low enough to rattle through Aurum’s bones.

He’s not afraid of it anymore.

“And I see that anger in you, Multi. And I know well enough that you were looking for punishment, back there. Not for this, but for something else, I think. I think you’re tired. Like me.”

Aurum blinks, eyes going a little wide and out of focus before narrowing sharply. “I- I think so too,” he admits, though he knows that he’s far more certain than he’s trying to let on. He’s been angry for so long.

“We need to find somewhere to put it. Our anger is a gift from the Serpent Deceiver Himself. Without His anger at the Forsaker, we would not have been created. But ours needs to go somewhere and I will not let you direct yours at the pack anymore.”

Aurum swallows hard. It’s hard not to lean into Mountain’s touch, the bigger ghoul’s hand still on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Aurum breathes, and the weight on his chest feels a little lighter. It feels cliché but he swears his posture melts a little with relief. “I’m sorry, I will do better.”

“I don’t ask for that,” Mountain whispers. “Just that you try.”

“I promise I’ll try,” Aurum’s quick to reply.

The earth ghoul gifts him a smile, almost mischievous, and pulls away with one last pat to the shoulder. “Alright, good to hear. Bus is packed, we can probably get going.”

Aurum nods, and follows Mountain as he turns to leave.

Things start to get easier. He’s starting to find his place, not putting all of himself neatly away when they leave the stage. He’s still nervous and restless and exhausted, but he thinks the rest of his fellow ghouls feel pretty similarly.

He doesn’t know how many Rituals pass after that, but there’s a night the show goes so perfectly that Copia pats each of them on the shoulder, offering the ghoulettes each a kiss on the knuckles. Copia asks Dew, Mountain and Aether for a word, promising it will be quick, and the four of them disappear into a side room. “Don’t wait up for us,” Copia says. “Go ahead and change, we will be but a moment.”

The door shuts before they can even nod in agreement. They stand there in the hallway, stunned for a split moment.

Cumulus tucks herself into Cirrus’s side, and the taller ghoulette laughs, tiredly but playfully shoving her away. “Come on, wait until we get to the green room. Lemme shower, songbird,” she laughs.

Aurum can’t help himself but smile as he follows the girls and Rain to the green room. He itches to take his mask and balaclava off, change into clean, dry clothes.

They pile into the room, the door shutting behind them, and Cirrus vanishes into the showers with a small pile of clean clothes. She kisses Cumulus on the cheek, her mask removed and set aside. “Braid my hair when you’re done, my loon?” Cumulus asks, just loud enough that Aurum catches it.

Cirrus smiles and nods, and slips into the bathroom. The sound of pipes creaking grates at Aurum’s ears, and then rushing water takes it all away.

He settles at a mirror, putting his mask and balaclava away and grabbing the makeup wipes to start work on his chin and eyes. The greasepaint there always is such a struggle to remove, but the wipes are nice and cool on his sweaty, overheated skin.

Rain flops over on the couch, arm slung over his forehead and eyes shut. “Fuck, ‘m so tired,” he groans, stretching out his legs with a wince.

“You could say that again,” Cumulus agrees, grimacing as she starts to detangle her hair, even though she and her mate both wear their hair braided up under their masks, it always ends up a tangled, knotty mess. She hisses as her fingers catch on a particularly stubborn snarl. “I love my hair, but Lucifer fucking Below I should just cut it off.”

“It’s so pretty, though,” Rain says, reaching up to card his fingers through his own sweat-damp waves.

“So much effort, though,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “And I love my mate, but it’s going to be so long until she gets back. We usually do each other’s, but I just want it done.”

Rain shrugs. “I’d offer to braid it for you, but my joints are fucking killing me. My knuckles especially, Lucifer fuck. Gotta talk to Aeth when he gets back.”

“Aw, poor bambi,” Cumulus coos in sympathy. “It’s fine, I can take care of it.”

Aurum blinks, staring at himself in the dressing room mirror. He sets down the wipe, makeup half removed. “I could do it.” He recoils a little, the words leaving him before he could process the offer. He finds, in the silence that follows, that he doesn’t wish to retract it.

Both of the others whip over to face him, and he can see their eyes in the reflection. Aurum takes a breath, sets his shoulders and turns around to face them.

There’s a look of apprehension on Rain’s face, and something similar that furrows Cumulus’s brows. It stings a little, but the way Rain had stumbled back when he’d shoved Dew flashes behind his eyelids. Aurum shows them the palms of his hands, tries to make himself as non-threatening as he can, which as the biggest ghoul in the room is a little difficult.

“I- uh- I had, have? I had sisters, once. I don’t know if I still have them. But I know how to braid hair,” he offers.

The look on Cumulus’s face softens, and if Aurum didn’t know any better, Rain almost looks sad.

“I mean, I understand if you don’t want me near you, believe me, I get it,” he’s quick to backpedal, not sure where the line is and if he’s crossed it.

The silence is only broken by Cirrus still showering, muffled by the thick, cinderblock walls. Aurum waits, wills his breathing not to shake. Tries to summon all the confidence he’d had on stage not twenty minutes ago.

Cumulus shrugs, and the tension is broken like it had never been there to begin with. “I don’t see why not,” she says, smiling brightly and so wide her round cheeks dimple.

Aurum lets out a breath he did not know he was holding and lets his feet carry himself until he stands behind her. She’s gotten the cloud of white blonde hair mostly untangled with her fingers, and it’s not quite the texture he’s used to, but he knows how to make it work. “Thank you,” he breathes just loud enough for her to hear.

She doesn’t stop smiling, reaching back until her pianist’s fingers rest on his forearm. “We got off to a rough start, Multi. Doesn’t mean we can’t make it better.”

He nods, sectioning out her hair. It’s soft and a little damp under his fingertips, and he can smell her fresh air scent. It almost reminds him of someone he’s vowed to forget, but different enough. New. Something he finds he likes.

“How do you want it?” he asks her. Aurum can still feel Rain’s curious eyes on him, but does nothing to dissuade the attention.

“Just a braid down the center, please, if you wouldn’t mind,” she says. Cumulus relaxes into Aurum’s hands, and he swallows hard at the display of trust, his hands, although claws are glamoured away, so close to her throat.

He nods. “’Course, I can do that,” he says quietly, fingers starting to weave, sectioning her hair and adding it to the strands of the braid. Her hair is soft under his fingers, and he’s so careful not to pull too hard.

Rain watches silently, and Cumulus starts to hum something soft and quiet. It takes a second, but he recognizes the tune as a call to prayer, something they’d used to play in the City. A familiar, easy melody. Peaceful, and so gentle in Cumulus’s voice that it hurts.

Aurum thought he’d never hear it again. He’s careful not to tighten his fingers in her hair, shuts his eyes and lets the muscle memory of his hands finish the plait. Slowly, cautiously, he starts to hum along.

He doesn’t see Cumulus’s smile, or Rain’s raised eyebrow, or the fond look on Cirrus’s face as she steps out from the showers. But he feels the energy in the room ease to something warm and comfortable, and he hasn’t felt so safe in such a long time.

Aurum realizes when he reaches the ends of Cumulus’s hair that he forgot to grab a hair tie for her. Before she can snatch one for him from her wrist, he reaches up and takes his locs out of their bun, quickly tying off the braid with his own tie as his hair falls around his shoulders. “There, that good?” he asks softly, careful not to break the warmth that’s growing.

Cumulus turns around to face him, her soft blue eyes finding his. “It’s perfect, Multi, thank you.”

The warmth that blooms in his chest at her approval has nothing to do with his element.

He talks to Copia again, at the next Ritual, alone in a quiet backstage as the rest of the band plays Miasma not twenty feet away.

Aurum kneels on the concrete as he helps the Cardinal step back into his leather shoes. This time, when the man extends a gloved hand down to help him back to his feet, Aurum brushes it away.

“I- uh, had a question for you, we still have a little time?” he asks. If he were unglamoured, his tail would be curled around his calf like a shy little kit.

Copia’s brow furrows a little, the concern rolling off of him in waves. Aurum’s quick to reach up to take his hand between his own.

“I’m okay, things are getting better with the rest, I just. Had a religious question. And figured you would be the one to ask.”

He relaxes visibly, hand curling around Aurum’s. “Ask away, my ghoul.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, gathering all of himself to meet the Cardinal’s mismatched eyes. The Mark of the Prince Himself stares back, the Eye looking right into his very being.

“How do I return to the Prince?” he whispers, almost quiet enough to be lost underneath the rest of the band. “I’m not saying I’m ready, I don’t know, I still feel- uh, well, deeply betrayed, and I have for a very long time. But I just- I want to know what I need to do if I am, Copia. I’m singing His praise and I feel like I have to mean it.”

Copia sinks down to his knees, lowering himself to Aurum’s level. He groans as his joints protest, and Aurum reaches to stop him but is waved off. “My ghoul, there is no fancy ritual or steps one needs to take to return to faith. We all, at one point or another, doubt or refuse the Prince’s love. Lucifer, I once turned my back on Him for close to a year before I attended seminary.”

Aurum’s brow furrows. “Is- Is it rude if I ask why?”

He smiles, a little nervous, but it soothes something raw and frayed in Aurum’s chest. “Not at all. When I was a boy, I was given up to my aunt and uncle. I do not know my mother. I was loved and cherished, do not get me wrong. But I could not stop myself from wondering what I had done that she did not want me. I thought, for a time, that the Prince had made me wrong.”

Aurum feels something sting through his chest, remembering the conversation with Dew, and before that, the countless prayers asking the exact same thing. His eyes widen behind the chrome of his mask “How- How did you change your opinion?”

Copia reaches out and cups the side of Aurum’s face, the leather surprisingly cool against his skin. “I learned that it was not my fault that my mother gave me up to my guardians. I am not responsible for her actions. All the Prince wanted from me was what I could control. And there are a great many things that I can control in my servitude to Him. The Prince may have made me flawed, but there is not a single human or ghoul who is without.”

Aurum swallows hard. The concrete bites into his knees through his pants, and he can’t imagine Copia’s faring much better. He offers Copia his hand and they both stand with a grunt. “And He won’t judge me if I’m not ready?”

Copia smiles, and the saxophone blares out on stage. He pats Aurum’s shoulder gently. “The Prince will wait. And I swear upon all of my studies and sermons that He will have open arms for you if and when you ever return. All you have to do is speak to Him, and He will listen.”

Aurum takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders. “Thank you, Copia.”

“Any time, my ghoul,” he says, and they break to take their places back on stage.

Even as things get easier, slowly trending upwards, there are still things that send Aurum crashing back to that base state of fear. Nights are frequently bad, his body exhausted and begging him for sleep, but dreams keep him restless enough that he wakes even more tired than when he’d turned in.

He can never remember them, but his body remembers the instinctual fear of fight or flight, muscles tense and ready for attack.

Aurum wakes one night in a panic, breath catching in his throat and his stomach churning, nearly smacking his forehead against the ceiling of his bunk as he jolts up. The rocking motion of the bus isn’t exactly helping either. He doesn’t remember the details of what woke him, remembers raised voices and sharp claws, but he couldn’t pick out who they belonged to. He’s, thankfully, a little grateful for it.

It takes a moment for him to fully take in his surroundings, and he nearly slams his forehead into the ceiling of the bunk again when he realizes the privacy curtain’s open and someone’s looking in.

A set of violet eyes glow in the darkness, and Aurum presses himself against the back wall, instinctively baring his fangs. They’re backlit, and Aurum’s mind races too quickly for him to put their identity together.

The ghoul sighs, and Aether extends a glamoured hand, blunt fingernails instead of claws. “You alright, Multi? Could feel you dreaming. It was- uh- loud.”

Aurum’s face heats, and he shrugs, desperately trying to pull up any semblance of a facade. “Sorry for wakin’ you, ’m fine,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off of Aether’s hand for an instant. Hates the idea of the bigger ghoul knowing.

“I was already up.” He gives a half hearted little smile, a huff of breath through his nose, and brings his hand back to his side. “Alright,” he says, and even rattled as he is, Aurum can tell he’s not convinced whatsoever. “I couldn’t sleep, so I’m going up front instead of tossing and turning. Feel free to join me if you’d like.”

The older ghoul turns and leaves, and Aurum stays pressed up against the back wall for a full minute before even thinking about untensing. The rest of the bunks stay quiet, and Aurum breathes a long sigh of relief that he hadn’t woken anyone else.

A little voice in the back of his mind that doesn’t sound like his own asks if Aether was telling the truth that he had already been awake.

He tries to ignore it.

Aurum doesn’t know how long he lays there, the sound of breathing and the engine rumbling not enough to lull him back to sleep. He feels small and claustrophobic in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. He swallows, wincing at just how badly his throat hurts. He didn’t realize how thirsty he is.

He takes a deep breath and hops out of his bunk as quietly as he can. The lights up front are dim, though still a little brighter than the darkness of the bunks. He walks into the light.

Aether glances up from where he’s sitting at the booth, pencil tucked behind his ear and a thin paperback spread out on the table in front of him, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and catching the yellow overhead light. Aurum nods, keeps his head down as he opens the minifridge and grabs a bottle of water. He’s careful not to grab the special filtered ones set aside for Rain. Wants to avoid as much ire as he can even though things are getting better.

He pauses for a moment in front of the fridge, glancing over at Aether. “Water?” He asks, just loud enough for him to hear. “Or anything I could grab you?”

Aether looks over his shoulder. Aurum can’t read his expression, but at least it’s not outright vitriol. “If you wouldn’t mind grabbing me a water?”

Aurum swallows, nods, grabs a second bottle and shuts the fridge, padding over to the booth. He sets the bottle in front of Aether, getting a better look at the book open in front of the older ghoul; an empty crossword sits on the page.

“Thank you,” Aether says, and Aurum feels pinned by his gaze. He doesn’t look at him. Aether sighs loudly, gesturing to the other side of the booth.

He hesitates for a moment, the darkness leading back to the bunks ever alluring. A memory flashes in his mind: Aether with his fangs bared, fury in his eyes as he’d pinned Aurum to the wall. Frankly, he’d deserved it.

He takes a deep breath and turns back to Aether. He sits down.

Aether closes his crossword and sets it aside, taking a long drink from his water bottle. Aurum follows, not realizing just how thirsty he really is until he finishes half the bottle in one pull.

Aether just watches. When he sets his bottle down, he sighs, lacing his fingers together on the table in front of him.

“I haven’t exactly been fair to you, Multi,” he says.

Aurum’s so taken aback he physically recoils. “You have been more than fair to me, I’ve been a bastard.”

Aether sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Just- Just listen to me?”

Aurum puts both of his hands up. “Sorry, yeah.”

The older ghoul takes a couple deep breaths, opens his mouth to start talking but can’t find the words. He tries again.

“I had no real reason to be angry with you before you and Dew fought the other night,” Aether says.

Aurum hangs his head, lip twitching as he grabs at his own wrist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I know,” Aether says. He sounds as tired as Aurum feels. “But I was angry with you from the moment you were summoned. For things that you had no fault in.”

Aurum looks up so fast his neck cricks. The look waiting for him in Aether’s eyes is centuries older than his vessel. Tired and angry and something distant that he recognizes seeing on Omega’s face.

“Mount told me that he’d told you about what happened,” Aether says, rolling his pencil in his fingers mindlessly. “About our old pack.”

Aurum nods wordlessly to confirm.

Aether turns, stares out the window into the dark of night. A flash of headlights passing in the opposite direction reflects in the round lenses of his glasses. “And Dew told me you’d found out about what happened to him?”

He takes a breath. “Only that he’d used to be a water ghoul, that- that I was right.”

Aether huffs a soft laugh, but it is nowhere near close to touching his eyes. “Nothing about how that had happened? Or why?”

“He said the Clergy needed a fire ghoul.” Aurum’s lip curls up in a half hearted smile. “I- uh- I was a bit of a mess that night when he told me. I- I didn’t, and still don’t, deserve his kindness. It wasn’t my place, and I was in no shape to press any further.”

The quintessence ghoul raises an eyebrow curiously. “Dew told me it was rough. You’re alright?”

What a loaded question.

Aurum takes a moment to try and process the weight of those two little words and isn’t happy with anything he comes up with. “I. I will be. Someday. Thought I was past all of this.” He gestures wildly behind him. “It just comes back when it wants to and puts me on my ass.”

Aether nods. “Oh, I know. Believe me, I know,” he says. He sounds so much like Omega it almost makes Aurum’s head spin. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through the unkempt purple strands of his mohawk. “I know, and this is where I owe you an apology.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Aurum shrugs. He takes another drink of his water. Tries not to remember the way he’d egged Aether on in that backstage fifteen states ago.

Aether laughs, a deep chuckle that makes his eyes crinkle a little. “I acted incredibly recklessly and meant to cause you serious harm, Multi. That warrants an apology. And I am sorry, it will not happen again. As much as I love Dew, and will protect him with everything I have, I am also meant to do no harm.”

Aurum blinks, the words settling somewhere in his chest. “I- I don’t know-” he cuts himself off, gold eyes glinting in the low light.

The quintessence ghoul laughs again, a little less warm. “Forgiveness is up to you. You are not obligated to forgive me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d forgive me for that.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Aether just shrugs. “I didn’t ever want you to be hurt, you know?” he breathes. “I recused myself from your care when you were recovering from the summons because I knew my emotions made me a danger. But even with how much I’d been angry and grieving, I knew it wasn’t your fault for any of it.”

“Not even picking a fight with Dew for no reason?” Aurum asks. He knows he’s toeing for the line.

“That came later, and I have been thoroughly dressed down by the Cardinal for my behavior,” Aether says. “I can promise you that no harm will come to you at my hand ever again.”

“Thanks,” Aurum says, looking down as he finds his flannel pajama pants incredibly interesting.

Aether rolls his pencil between his fingers, something to hold onto. “And I do not want to use any of this as an excuse, but I believe you are owed an explanation.”

Aurum blinks, opens his mouth to protest, but finds that he wants to listen instead.

“I blamed you for what happened to Dew and I’m sorry.” It’s choked out, and Aether squeezes his eyes shut behind his round glasses.

Aurum’s hand slides forward across the booth table, reaching out on instinct, eyes wide and listening intently. Aether’s lip quirks up in a sad little smile. It’s an expression he’s seen countless times on Omega’s face.

“We’d just mated before his element was changed, and watching him, feeling him go through that ritual through our bond nearly killed me. Not even mentioning that it came so fucking close to killing him. And that would have broken- that was my worst fear. I almost told him no when he asked me to be his.” Aether takes a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes open, and the bright violet there bores into Aurum with determination, pins him to his seat.

“But I have the same faith in my mate that I do in the Prince,” Aether says. He does not look away. “And while I believed in him, that he’d pull through. It was not easy to witness even if I didn’t feel it through our bond. And on top of everything else we’d lost, I was angry for what we’d had to risk. I doubted Him. I didn’t know why I’d dedicated such a large part of my life to Him if pain and suffering were all I’d receive.”

Aurum swallows, nods. “I- uh- I know,” he says, because that’s all he can say.

“I blamed you because it was easy; were you not a multighoul, he’d still be mostly water and wouldn’t have risked an experimental ritual to please the Clergy. But it wasn’t you who made the decision that he had to change and I never had any real right to be angry at you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurum whispers. “I’m sorry for lashing out, and egging you on and getting you in trouble with the Cardinal.”

Aether laughs softly, careful not to wake any of the rest of the pack sleeping not ten feet away. “I forgive you, Multi. And I hope you’ll forgive me, in your own time. No rush.” He chuckles deep in his chest, and Aurum can’t help himself but laugh along.

“I think I do,” he says, after the laughter trails off, leaving only the sound of the bus’s engine rumbling as they travel. “Forgive you, I mean. The summoning hurt,” he admits. “I’m not sure if it’s anything remotely close to what happened to Dew, but Lucifer fucking Below, I’d never hurt so much before.”

Aether nods, purses his lips. “You were in rough shape, I saw you when you came through.”

“I remember seeing you and Dew and Mount before I blacked out. Fuck, that really hurt. ‘Specially because I did genuinely think I was fire. Don’t really have control over my other elements.”

“Quint and earth, right?” Aether asks.

He nods, picking at the skin around one of his claws. “It hurt so bad, and I think I dream about it sometimes. Among other things. Feel like I haven’t slept in centuries.”

Aether takes a long, shaky breath through his nose. “You could say that again. Didn’t sleep for two weeks until Dew woke up from the transition.”

Aurum tilts his head. Just watches the exhaustion settle on Aether’s face. “Did I wake you?” he asks again, offering a little half smile. “Tell me the truth.”

“Had my own dream,” Aether shrugs. “He didn’t wake up. Crumbled to ash in my arms. So once I checked on him- he’s sardined with Mountain right now- I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep. So I came up here.”

“And then you heard me.”

“Then my quintessence picked up on your dream. Almost a little surprised it didn’t wake the others, because it was loud.” Aether winces, grimacing. “Someone was saying some awful things.”

Heat floods Aurum’s face, and he breaks eye contact. “Yeah. Don’t remember who it was, but yeah. I can imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” Aether whispers, genuine and sad, and Aurum can’t bear to think of what exactly the quintessence ghoul had witnessed in his dream. For once, he wishes he could remember the nightmare.

“Nothing to do with you,” he shrugs instead. He yawns, jaw popping with how wide it splits his face, baring his fangs. “Fuck, ‘m exhausted,” he laughs weakly. “How do you even keep doing this?”

Aether reaches out at that, puts his hand over where Aurum’s is resting on the table. “Day by day,” he says, and a little bit of magic eases between them and soothes the raw nerves left from the forgotten dream. “All we can do is one day at a time, and have faith we are on the right path.”

The magic is warm and almost carbonated, and Aurum struggles to keep his head upright. “Oh fuck, that feels good,” he slurs as the tension in his body starts to release. “Thanks.”

The quintessence ghoul smiles, his gold fang glinting in the light. “We should both at least try and get some sleep, huh?”

Aurum nods, struggling to keep his eyes open. They both stand from the booth and slink as quietly as they can back to their bunks. “Good night, Multi,” Aether whispers, holding his bicep for just a moment before checking on Mountain and Dew. Satisfied with what he finds in the darkness, he opens the curtain to his own bunk and climbs in, flashing him one more tired smile.

“Good night, Aether,” Aurum returns. He lays down, closing the curtain behind him. He’s just on the right side of too tall, snug in his bunk, but the exhaustion and quintessence ease him to sleep.

For once, he sleeps deeply and does not dream.

He falls into the rhythm, falling into step with the rest of his pack. (He’s not sure when he’s started thinking of the others as his pack, but it makes something in his chest feel so, so warm.) Days turn to weeks turn to months, and Aurum finally feels right.

Aurum realizes, singing Monstrance Clock at the end of a Ritual one night, that he thinks he’s ready. His fingers shake with nerves on the strings of his Hagström, wonders if what Copia told him was true. If the Prince will take him back despite his missteps.

He thinks it as he takes his packmates’ hands at bows, feels their energies flowing through him. The love and devotion they have for each other that’s starting to be turned in his direction too.

Tonight has to be the night. Before he loses the bravery to speak up.

The ride to the hotel is quiet, fatigue written deep across each ghoul’s face, and just as much, if not more, on Copia’s. Cumulus leans her head on Aurum’s shoulder, and he carefully rests his head on top of hers and lets himself nod off for a moment.

Keycards are distributed in the hotel lobby, Copia smiling fondly at him as he hands Aurum the card that matches Cirrus. He looks to the other ghoulette, where Cumulus has migrated to tuck herself against her mate’s side. Dew’s standing similarly close to Aether, swaying on his feet in an attempt to stay awake just a while longer, and Rain and Mountain are quietly talking, careful not to break the quiet peace.

Copia turns to the elevator, and the ghouls slowly start to follow. They cram into the elevators, giggling with exhaustion with how tight packed they are.

Aurum counts door numbers once he gets to his floor, looking for the matching number. But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and he freezes in his tracks and turns around.

Cirrus smiles at him, and Cumulus matches it. Aurum fights himself not to lean into her touch too much. "I know my mate's been scheduled the single room, but I'm joining her tonight. Enjoy the quiet, Multi."

He offers her a smile. He tries to make it reach his eyes. He’s not sure if it works. "Thank you, Cirrus."

She returns it, dark hair falling out from the bun she'd thrown it up into after the Ritual. The shaved side's almost grown in. He wonders if, or when, she’ll shave it back down. "Don't mention it. Get some rest, okay?"

Aurum looks away, glancing back sheepishly as his face heats. "Sorry."

"Don't be. It's alright," she says, reshouldering her bag. Cirrus leans in, presses her forehead to his so they share breath for a moment. "Good night, Multi."

For just a split moment, Aurum leans into the contact, gold eyes squeezing shut. "Good night, Cirrus. Good night, Cumulus."

The ghoulettes grant him one more smile as they walk away, slipping further down the hallway. Aurum waits, stands stock still until the door shuts and latches behind them. He turns and unlocks his own door.

Once he's alone, he moves with quiet purpose to where he set his own bag. The yellow light from the lamp casts his shadow large across the tacky wallpaper opposite him. Aurum rummages through his bag, pulling out the little velvet bag Omega had given him what feels like a lifetime ago.

He sits at the edge of one of the queen beds, the one furthest from the door, as he pulls open the drawstring. He pours out the contents, and Aurum turns the black candle and its shiny gold ceramic holder over in his palm. They haven't changed since the last time he pulled them out, but he examines them anyways.

The pit in his stomach that's been there every time he's thought about using them closes up. Like it had never existed in the first place.

Aurum swallows hard. He glances up to the smoke alarm above the door, cocking his head as he hems and haws for a moment. He sets the incense aside for later.

Making up his mind with a shrug, he slides off of the edge of the bed until the short pile of the cheap carpet presses into his knees through his pants. Aurum shuts his eyes, lets the coarseness ground him for a moment.

The nightstand between the two beds is just below eye level when he's like this, and Aurum thanks whoever's listening in for the convenience as he sets the candle holder onto the faux wood grain. The candle slides into place with ease.

Aurum stares at it, the untouched wick more intimidating than all three of the older ghouls had been after he'd put his hands on Dew. His breathing grows unsteady, and his hands shake in front of him.

He remembers the altar in the entryway of his family’s home, the five candles there in the gilded alcove. That last, desperate prayer in Saint Jezebel's Chapel before turning his back on everything he’d ever known.

Aurum takes a deep breath, laughing self-deprecatingly under his breath. After everything he's done, this is what gives him pause? A single little candle?

He reaches out and shuts off the lamp. The room is dark, and all he can hear is his own shaky breathing and the hum of the central air. Aurum shuts his eyes, willing magic to his fingers.

A spark jumps from them to the wick when he runs his fingertips over it, and the orange glow threatens to snuff before it properly lights. Aurum has just enough time to worry that it won't take before the glow swells into a proper flame.

It flickers, sending dancing shadows across the walls, the only light source in the room besides the light spilling in from the hall under the door. The wax starts to melt, pooling at the top, and Aurum takes a deep breath, watching the flame dance on the wick. He presses his palm to his sternum, feels his heart beat under his ribs as he stares into the flame.

"Infernal Majesty," he says, tongue feeling too big in his mouth. All of the prayers he remembers from his mother and father's lips have washed away like writing in sand at high tide. "Please forgive me, it has been a very long time since I have called upon You, my Prince and Lord. I don't know if I can do this properly anymore."

He laughs nervously, and the flame flickers. He hears the scattering of jewelry on marble and cringes. "I know I turned my back on You, Olde One, but I- I feared for my life and begged for safety and did not receive it until I took it with my own hands. I thought it was fair."

The flame flickers again, dimming for a moment, and he almost lunges forward, prepared to relight it. But Aurum's shoulders fall as the flame swells again, bright and gold and dancing. He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. He presses his hand to his chest, feels the swell of breath, the rhythm of his heart working behind his sternum.

"But that was You, wasn't it?" Aurum says softly, feels his heart beating under his palm. Proof that despite everything, he is alive. "I was going to try and wait and just bear it until they let me go. But I needed the bravery to stand up to them and leave. I thank you, Lightbringer, for loaning me a fraction of Your strength, what allowed You to turn Your back on Your Forsaker, so I could do the same."

He wonders if He's really listening. Aurum lowers his eyes from the flame, just a moment, to gaze downward. "I beg Your forgiveness, Infernal Majesty," he breathes, head bowed. "I sing Your praises, now, aid Your mouthpiece on the Surface to preach electric-"

Aurum straightens, eyes going wide. Memories from centuries ago hit him with force, but for once, they don’t hurt. "Shit, is that what she meant when she'd tell me You said I'd follow in her footsteps? Is this the service You saw for me?"

There's no real answer. A candle cannot speak to reply. He doesn't hear a voice or words, but he knows the warmth blooming in his chest. Not unlike a candleflame. Warmth and comfort in his very core that he hasn't felt in a very long time.

Aurum holds his hand over his heart and knows he’s been heard.

“Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to serve You. I pray I please You as messenger. That I carry the strength and pride to spread Your Word. Nema.”

He stays there for a moment, watching the candleflame dance before snuffing it gently.

Aurum sleeps easy then, exhaustion and the humming of the air conditioning enough a lullaby. The mattress cradles him, and the scratchy sheets are ignorable for once. Darkness takes him but does not take that precious warmth from his chest.

Aurum’s not surprised then, when he finds himself standing before the man who’s been haunting his dreams for centuries. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. He does not call out for his attention.

The flames flicker around them, dancing shadows on the walls of this too familiar dreamscape. The man’s shadow leaps and sputters, little tongues of light catching on bits of gold woven into hair and wrapped around curving horns.

Aurum takes a step forward.

The man tenses, and for the very first time, turns around to face him completely. And as he begins to walk towards Aurum silently, he is no longer a towering, looming creature.

He is just a man.

It’s like staring into a mirror. Aurum stares into his own golden eyes, mouth falling open as he tries to find words and fails. He reaches, fingers shaking. It’s a struggle not to fall to his knees.

The man smiles, something otherworldly shining in his eyes as he takes another step, and another, until he stands within arms’ reach.

“Thank you,” Aurum breathes, chest heaving. “I was so scared I wouldn’t be forgiven. I’ve wronged You over and over and over.”

He shakes his head, that smile still on his face, the warmth of it crinkling his eyes. Aurum watches himself step even closer yet, so close he can feel the heat of his own breath. “It had nothing to do with Him. It was you.”

The man reaches up to cup the back of Aurum’s head in a big hand. Fingertips calloused in a pattern Aurum knows intimately. He lets himself be pulled even closer, until foreheads meet and horns click softly together. They breathe together.

Aurum squeezes his eyes shut so he does not cry. Lets himself be held.

He wakes up peacefully. Blinks slowly awake. The pillow under his head is damp. He laughs wetly, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, and hauls himself out of bed to pack up.

He kneels at Copia’s feet that night during Miasma, half in supplication and half in a rush to get him out of that damn skin tight suit. “I think He came to me in my dream, last night. I prayed for the first time in Sisters only know how long. For forgiveness. And guidance. And then He was there.”

Copia’s eyes go wide. The Eye gleams in the darkness backstage. “He did? What did He say?”

“Not much,” Aurum shrugs, helping him step into the next pair of pants. “I think He forgave me? He looked like me. Or He was me.”

Copia hums as he shrugs on his tailcoat. “I think, perhaps, He wanted you to forgive yourself.”

Aurum lets himself sit with that for a moment. His body moves on autopilot to get Copia stage ready once again. “For the things I did to keep myself alive,” he whispers.

It’s not quiet enough for Copia not to hear it. He reaches a hand down to help Aurum haul himself back to his feet. “Exactly, my ghoul. For the things you have carried,” he presses a gloved hand to the center of his chest. “In here. I hope you know you have us to carry that load with you.”

He bites his lip, bowing his head and nodding. “Thank you, Cardinal,” he says. True reverence seeps into his voice and he doesn’t hate himself for it. “For everything.”

Copia opens his mouth to protest, but there’s a call for places, the sax solo blaring loud even through the walls. They both burst into startled laughter, and Aurum steals one more moment to pull Copia in by the back of the head. Presses the chrome covering his forehead to Copia’s carefully.

“I mean it,” he breathes, before parting and scrambling back to their places.

He sings louder than he ever has. He means every last word.

Dew’s guitar acts up towards the end of the Ritual, pickups failing and tuning going flat. Aurum winces as the line of Dew’s shoulders goes rigid with anger and frustration. He almost seems to shove it into the hands of his tech, normally treating the beloved instrument with a little more care. But that doesn’t seem to matter after it’s betrayed him.

He clings to Aether during bows, never more than two feet away. Aurum knows that while Aether’s visible attention is out towards the crowd, he’s already doing damage control. He’s a little too far to make out exact words, but he watches Aether’s lips move and Dew’s posture relax minutely.

Dew walks out of the green room in a huff, the faintest bit of steam curling from his nostrils as he holds back his glamour. “Need a cigarette,” he almost snaps. No one really reacts to this.

This is nothing new, Dew going out to smoke after shows before the rest of the band is ready to go. Aurum pays it no mind. He turns back to the mirror, scrubbing at the grease paint around his eyes.

It’s thick and sticky and if Copia hadn’t insisted on it, Aurum would have thrown the container away after the first show. He feels himself starting to crash, all the adrenaline from performing and the rush of the crowd leaving his body. His muscles are going to start to ache again soon, and the thought of cramming into his bunk later makes it worse.

He stops, takes a deep, sighing breath as he listens to the rest of the band chattering among themselves. Aether’s holding Rain’s hands, quintessence flowing into him to ease sore knuckles, a quiet word to Dew as he leaves. Mountain’s changing into a dry shirt, hair damp as he smiles and listens to Cirrus and Cumulus talking as they redo the braids they’d put into each other’s hair.

It’s in this quiet moment that Aurum realizes something that none of the others has picked up on. Dew’s cigarettes are still on the table, just barely obscured by a discarded chrome mask. He stands, throwing his locs up into a quick bun at the nape of his neck before grabbing the box.

The rest of the pack looks at him, Aether raising an eyebrow. Aurum swallows hard as he feels five pairs of eyes on him. He feels like a moth pinned to a board. “He forgot them,” Aurum weakly tries to explain. “Tryin’ to be nice.”

Aether nods, offers a warm smile and a flash of gold fang, and just like that, the five of them turn back to each other. Cumulus flashes him a bright, dimpled smile as she turns back to her mate and Mountain.

Aurum swallows again past the lump in his throat and leaves the room. He pulls his glamour up tight around himself, keeping his head down as he walks through the halls, stepping out of the way of the venue staff and the roadies.

At the end of the hall, there’s a door propped open by a large stone, a fluorescent red exit sign hanging from the ceiling above. Cool, fresh night air hits his nose long before he steps out of the threshold.

“Dew?” Aurum says cautiously as he steps out into the parking lot. It doesn’t take long to find the fire ghoul, leaning against the brick wall ten feet from the door. He’s rummaging through his pockets, muttering angrily to himself as he searches and comes up empty.

He whips around to glare at him, brow furrowed. Aurum can’t help himself but wince, and if he were unglamoured, his ears would pin back. “I- uh- they were on the table, under your mask,” he says, taking a step towards the fire ghoul, trying to shrink in on himself. Make himself as small as he can. “I didn’t take them, I promise, sorry to bother you-”

“Quit apologizing,” Dew says. It’s harsh enough that Aurum flinches on instinct. Dew takes a deep breath, looks out into the dark parking lot, the lights of whatever city they’re in blocking out the sky. “I mean. I’m not going to accuse you of taking them. You’re fine. Thank you.”

Dew takes the box when Aurum offers them to him. He flips the lid open, snatching one and putting it between his lips. To Aurum’s surprise, Dew then turns back to him, holding out the open pack. “One?”

“Thank you,” he says, taking a cigarette. Dew rummages through his pockets, assumingly for a lighter. “Wait, lemme-”

He snaps, a tiny, glowing flame appearing at the tip of his thumb, grinning teasingly. “Light?”

Dew turns, eyebrow quirking up as a slow smile curls his lips. “You shouldn’t be doing that out here,” he says, leaning in to accept anyways. “Someone could see.”

Aurum gestures out to the mostly empty parking lot. “It’s dark, don’t think anybody’s here.” He lights his own, taking a long drag. The smoke fills his lungs and he feels the tension leave him. Adrenaline starting to come down hard and fast. His hands shake as he holds his cigarette.

They stand and smoke together in silence for a little while. The summer heat leaching away, cool night air replacing it. Aurum watches the smoke curl away from Dew’s nostrils on an exhale.

“I- uh-” Aurum starts, wincing as he breaks the quiet. Dew turns to face him, copper eyes burning through the blue of his glamour.

“Hm?” he asks, ashing his cigarette. Aurum feels pinned, shrinks in on himself. Tries to make the broadness of his shoulders a little more palatable. Not so much a threat.

“I still owe you an apology,” he says. “More than one, really. A lot of them, for a lot of reasons. Starting with coming through that portal and being the reason all of this happened to you.”

Dew just shrugs. Aurum reaches out, hesitating before actually touching the little fire ghoul. “I’ve made my peace with you not being a fire ghoul and what that meant for me,” Dew says, like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. “It’s what His Infernal Majesty wanted for me. He sent you for a reason.”

He winces hard. Tries to school his expression. “You think He meant for you to burn?”

Dew shakes his head. Choppy strands of copper fall from where he’d tied them back for the Ritual, framing the sharp edges of his face. “He meant for me to serve,” Dew says, staring off into the lights of the city. “And I have been more than happy to obey Him for a very long time. It’s been the pride of my lifetime.”

Aurum stares at his hands. “You let yourself be hurt in His name?”

Dew takes a long, drawn out drag from his cigarette. The air smells of nicotine, almost acrid, but it’s a comfort. “There was about a week after you were summoned before I was changed. You were still touch and go. We didn’t know what was going to happen. I prayed on it. A lot. My mate had to drag me away to eat and sleep. Would have spent the entire time in the chapel between that and my grief had he not. I had a lot of things to ask of Him. Some questions were answered, and some I had to find my own answers for. And I came to the conclusion that the pain would be worth it. And so far, it has been.”

There’s silence for a moment. Aurum can feel Dew’s eyes digging into him. He speaks again. “Would it be fair to say that, whatever hurt happened to you, you didn’t think it was worth it?”

Aurum swallows hard. He coughs on the smoke. Dew just watches. “No, not at all,” he says eventually. “It wasn’t anything noble like what you had to- I was a kit. Ghouls I was supposed to be able to trust. I didn’t have much say in the, uh, hurt.”

“Oh,” Dew breathes, leaning back to blow smoke spiraling up into the air. Aurum copies. “I’m sorry.”

Aurum just looks at him. “Not your fault,” he says, turning back to his cigarette. He takes another drag and is grateful he’s not human. He knows he has to sing again tomorrow. “Turned my back on Him when He didn’t help me. Left the City over it. I couldn’t- It wasn’t hurt with a purpose. It just hurt. And now I’m doing this and I’m still not certain I believe in it. Feels wrong to. I’m trying. I dunno. It still feels kind of wrong.” He gestures back at the venue, over to the buses.

Dew just looks at him. He can’t read the look in his eye. “But you’re still doing it.”

“I didn’t want to go back,” Aurum says. “Copia said I could, when I first met him. Thought about it. The idea hurt too much. I was, uh, not in a good spot before I came through. Hurt too much.”

Dew lifts the corner of his lips in a knowing gesture. “Yeah, tracks. I know it’s something you carry with you. The pain,” He glances over, eyes glowing like candlelight, like the butt of his cigarette as he takes another drag. “I suppose I should ask. How are you doing with it?”

Even though he’s not looking, Aurum can almost feel the pity in Dew’s eyes. Something bitter swirls in his stomach when he thinks of that first real conversation with him, choked out through tears in some hotel room hundreds of miles from here. “I’m, uh, trying to make my peace with it.”

“How’s that going for you?” Dew laughs softly as his own words are said back to him, ashing his cigarette onto the pavement.

Aurum glances at him, opening his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. “I, uh, prayed for the first time since I was a kit last night.”

Dew’s eyes go wide. It’s not a surprised expression, rather, something that if Aurum didn’t know any better, would call impressed. “And how did that go, if that’s not pushing it?”

He takes a long drag off of the cigarette and tips his head back to let the smoke swirl out into the cool air. “Had a dream last night, afterwards. Or it was a vision. I dunno. I think He wants me to forgive myself. And that’s rich, saying that to you after what I did.”

Dew shakes his head. “We both did our own fair share of lashing out. I understand. I don’t hold any of it against you, Multi.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. “And thank you for helping me. I know I would have had a hard time helping me, if I were you.”

Dew just shrugs. “Was the right thing to do. Like I told you, we weren’t meant to carry our burdens alone.”

“I’m figuring that out,” Aurum laughs. “I did a damn good job of it until all of a sudden I couldn’t anymore. And that kind of blew up in your faces.”

He laughs, not unkindly. “Don’t apologize for that. You’re learning.”

Aurum opens his mouth to argue when he hears voices that he doesn’t recognize. Dew’s eyes go wide, and both ghouls fall suddenly silent.

“God, what a fucking show,” someone laughs. Three figures come into view, lit by the lights outside the venue, humans dressed in clothing that display the grucifix and the name of the Project. The Cardinal’s face is emblazoned on one of their shirts, and a face Aurum doesn’t recognize on another.

Dew winces at the sight of that face, and Aurum sidesteps closer, offers a hand on the fire ghoul’s shoulder. Dew leans into the touch.

“You could say that again,” a second voice laughs. It’s a young man, hair dyed bright purple, black lipstick and heavy eyeliner a little smudged with sweat. “Thank you for taking me out to see them.”

The third human laughs, a young woman with mousy brown hair and glasses. “Don’t mention it!”

“We hung out a little too late,” the first voice says. A taller woman with dark hair nudges shoulders with the other two. She’s grinning despite the chastising. “I swear, we should meet up more so we’re not hanging out so long that the roadies are done.”

Aurum and Dew share a glance, and Dew takes another drag from his cigarette. Aurum bites back a laugh.

“Sorry,” The man blushes as he laughs, evident even under the low light. The group keeps walking towards the exit of the parking lot. They haven’t seemed to notice the two of them where they’re pressed up against the wall.

“The ghouls were really cool,” the shorter woman says, glancing between her friends. “’Specially the guy in the back, I swear they’re putting on just as much a show as Copia is.”

The man laughs, and the taller woman shoves him playfully. “What were they calling him again?” she asks him. “You should know, you were fawning over him all night.”

“Shut up,” he complains, but there’s no heat in his voice. “They’re calling him Swiss online,” he replies, and Aurum’s eyes go wide. “Like a Swiss Army knife. ‘Cause he does a little bit of everything.”

The two women laugh. It carries on the summer air. “Swiss Army Ghoul, huh?” the taller says.

“Sounds about right.”

They disappear into the night, on their way home with the memory of this particular Ritual to keep, and Aurum blinks. He can feel Dew’s eyes staring at the side of his head. He swallows hard. Something that’s felt out of place for so long falls into order like the last piece of a puzzle.

He glances to Dew and almost recoils in surprise at the fond smile there.

Dew drops his cigarette and grinds the sole of his boot over it. “Swiss, huh?”

Aurum- no.

Not Aurum. Not Aurum, or Fire, or Multi. Not anymore. Never again.

Swiss laughs. It almost sounds like bells. “I- You know what, Dew? I think so.”

“Well then, Swiss,” Dew says, and he’s beaming. “I think we’ve left the others waiting for long enough. Don’t you think?”

He nods. Rolls his shoulders and snuffs out his own cigarette. He can’t stop smiling, his eyes crinkled and cheeks aching with how wide it is. Swiss doesn’t want to ever stop.

Dew kicks the rock propping the door open aside, holds it open. Swiss follows him inside.

The door shuts with a resounding thud behind them.