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myfriendscallmecoelophysis · 4 years

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The Fears of a Goddess

Part 1 of my Dark! Ianite fic

Part 2

Enjoy and as always

Find me on Ao3:

Selenejessabelle12626 for the tame stuff

Lady-Spieroles for the less tame stuff ;)

It wasn’t often that Tom felt like warnings of any sort were worth heeding. People often overreacted. ‘Don’t touch that’ ‘Don’t climb that high’ ‘Don’t challenge him to a fight’ ‘Don’t taste that weird green goo’, blah blah blah, always so boring. No one was willing to have any fun. But the warnings he did at least give a bit of consideration to were the ones from his God. Dianite may not really care about Tom but as long as Tom was useful, Dianite had to have some sort of interest in his continued survival. So when the book was left for him saying that Ianite may not be all that she appeared, Tom actually took it into consideration.

But really? Ianite? Jordan’s dodgy eyed, bubbly Goddess? Evil? Sure the Ianite of Ruxomar had caused the taint and destroyed the entire city of Dagrun with it and all that but she’d been chill whenever Tom had spoken with her. He didn’t admittedly have much experience with the Ianite they’d saved in their first lives either, really just causing a bit of mischief whenever she showed her face. Though there was that one time she took the sword Dianite had given him and killed him with it.

Eh, he’d go with Dianite for now. No harm in pretending to join her side and just using it as an excuse to spend more time with Jordan.

It was when Mianite warned them, all of them, of some sort of evil shadowy force that could be in any one of them that Tom gave Dianite’s worries a second thought. Maybe this was what he’d been thinking of? Maybe this evil had gotten it’s grip into Ianite? Should he say something to Jordan?

“Karl?”

“Yeah?”

“Did Mianite, say anything else to you about this evil thing that he didn’t tell us?”

They were sailing together back to their islands after the Mianite Games. Sparklez had flown ahead already, he stashed his elytra in that stupid ender chest and brought it along instead of leaving it behind like they’d been told.

Karl took a moment to reply, a moment too long for his words to be anything but suspicious. “No. Just what he told all of us.”

“Nothing about, Ianite or anything?”

“What do you mean? Why would he talk to me in secret about Jordan’s God?”

Tom frowned, turning back towards the front of the boat. “Nevermind, forget I said anything.”

His suspicions don’t fade, but he hid them well enough, he’d always been a pretty good liar when it actually mattered. Dianite had said nothing to him since before the Trial. He’d said he needed time to figure out what was happening and while Tom did feel a bit abandoned, he didn’t fault the God. He knew his own sister better than Tom did, he would know if she was acting off. So he played his part, gave Ianite the pearls she wanted, knelt before her and pretended to swear his loyalty despite Jordan frowning down at him from her side. For the foreseeable future he wouldn’t destroy anything or kill anyone or cause unnecessary chaos. There were greater things at work that he didn’t know about. Dianite would come back when it was time.

“Jordan, you trust me don’t you?” Ianite asked him out of the blue one day. She was sitting on the stairs in his tower, watching as he rummaged and crafted. Hunter, the stray cat that Ianite had adopted (despite it living in Jordan’s home), sat in her lap purring as she stroked it.

“Of course.” Jordan said without looking up from what he was working on.

“I think my brothers are plotting against me.” He paused, pulling back the ingredients he’d been about to mix at his brewing stand.

He turned around to look at her and asked “What do you mean?” confused by why she would say such a thing.

“They’ve stopped speaking to me. But I see them speaking to each other.” Jordan felt a twinge of pity for her, he knew what it felt like to be left out of conversations. Tom and Karl did it often enough, swapping secrets and inside jokes.

“I’m sure it’s nothing milady. They’re your little brothers, little brothers do things like that sometimes. Or so I’ve been told.”

“I’m scared of what they may be planning.” At her admittance, the pity he felt doubled. He set aside the potion and moved to sit on the stairs next to her. “I’m scared of what is to come if they come into their powers.”

He’d told her of the theory he and Tom shared. That they’d come backwards in time to a point where the Gods they would know as powerful had not yet grown into their abilities. She’d asked him endless questions about that life and he’d told her, once she’d shared that she knew some of it already. The Ianite of Ruxomar had told him what would happen when she scattered her quintessence, that she would become one with all her lives across all dimensions and realities. It made sense that this version of her might have glimpses of those other lives. She knew that for Dianite to be defeated in the far-flung future, his evil ended once and for all, she would have to rot in a crystal prison cell for millenia unknown. He would steal her heart and hide it away, leaving her weak and broken, a shell of a Goddess and of herself. It was no wonder that she was worried.

In all likelihood Dianite had already gotten a similar story from Tom about the future where they’d come from and knowing Tom, it did not paint Ianite or Mianite in a very kind way.

“It’ll be alright. The fact that I’m here is proof that it will be. I saved you then and I will do it again. Over and over as many times as I must, in this dimension and all others. You have my word. I swear it to you as your Champion.” He was not often one for physical contact, but hazarded a chance to take one of her hands in his, giving what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

She smiled and squeezed it back. “I know you will. You always have. I see the other mortals and I wonder how I got so lucky to have a Champion as loyal as you. I’ve seen into those other worlds, in my dreams. I’ve seen the world where she loved you, where I loved you, well not you but another you.” “Spark. He was called Spark.” he chuckled, explaining to save her the confusion.

“But in that world I saw what became of her after he was gone. The destruction she caused without him by her side. But then she met you, this you. You did so much for her, for us. The others were so cruel to you but you only did what you felt was best and best for her.” He looked away from her then, but did not let go of her hand. He was ashamed of some of the choices he’d made in the name of balance. Cruel, foolish, selfish choices justified by claiming they were for the greater good. “And I was wrong. She-” He swallowed, closing his eyes “-she died. Because I couldn’t help her. Because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Jordan.” She sighed, looking to him with empathy in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. Such things are bigger than any one man. You did everything you could to help her and keep her safe and happy until it was her time and still even after. But there was nothing more you could have done. It is the nature of fate. We all have our destinies to face. Be they discorporating or spending a thousand years in chains. There is nothing we can do to change them.”

He knew she was right, that they had to simply accept what was to come. He and Tom had discussed it soon after coming to the understanding that they were in the past. They could not tamper too much. Who knew what might happen if they accidentally changed the timeline? But now Jordan was realizing something.

When he arrived on that Island of ‘Mianite’ where Tom and Tucker had decided to create their land, Mianite and Dianite both had been alive and well. Ianite had been the one languishing in a prison at Dianite’s hand, her heart stolen and hidden away. Ianite’s followers had been the ones to die under Furia’s attacks. Ianite’s temple and holy city had been what had burned. Ianite was the one who’d been neglected and forgotten by the brother that was supposed to be the ‘Good Guy’. How in any way was it considered balanced for the Goddess of Balance to undergo such trauma while her brothers went about their lives with leisure? And even in Ruxomar, it had been Ianite who’d sacrificed herself to return the balance to the realm after Mianite and Dianite had sent it into flux. Why was she the one who must always suffer?

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, the words already tasting treasonous on his tongue, “we changed yours?”

When she was a young girl, Ianite had a dream of a crystal castle in the sky. She dreamed of the castle often, of its beautiful impenetrable walls and decoratively barred windows. To a girl it seemed enormous, an endless maze of hallways and corridors. But try as she might, she could never find the door. As she got older the castle in her dreams grew smaller and smaller until it began to feel not like a palace, but a prison. Burning shackles began appearing on her wrists each night, searing and branding scars upon her skin as she struggled to escape. What had once been a dream became a recurring nightmare.

Mother, despite having never heard Ianite’s dreams, told her bedtime stories of a woman who was locked away in a crystal tower, awaiting rescue from a hero. He would come and it was with only his help that she would come into her own and reach her truest potential. It didn’t take long for Ianite to put the pieces together. This was not a fairy tale, but one of Mother’s visions. It would be her fate to see that dungeon and it was only by surviving that she would grow to become the Goddess she was destined to be.

From that moment on Ianite vowed that she would subvert her fate. She would never lay eyes on that place, not if she had anything to say about it. She may not have access to the fullest extent of her powers but she was still a fledgling Goddess. She would fight tooth and nail to reach the potential that was promised to her, with or without the hero.

Her own visions began after Mother was gone. They were not prophetic, not like Mother’s had been. It took Ianite some time to realize that she was seeing glimpses into other realities. She was always herself, that much she knew, but in every reality things changed. In some she was a Goddess, in others a human, in yet others still she was neither. One of these visions was different from all the others, so much so she was not sure it was the same thing at all.

She was in a cavern lit only by scant torchlight. Before her was a hooded figure, sat at a writing desk. She heard the scratching of a quill on parchment then the tap of the quill being set aside. “I wondered when I might see you.” A man’s voice greeted. He stood and stepped away from the desk, turning to face her. His face was shrouded in darkness in the depth of the hood but still she felt as though she could not break his gaze. “I’m so pleased that you have begun to come into your powers, my daughter.”

“Father?” She’d never known her father. Mother had never spoken of him aside from passing references twisted within her prophecies. She did know enough to know he was powerful, far stronger than she or her brothers. Mother had claimed it was their destiny to defeat him and rid his darkness from the world but only after they reached their fullest potential and strength. A task which could not be accomplished without the help of a mortal hero. Something Ianite was trying to avoid, seeing as it required her to be imprisoned for Gods knew how long.

“You are unhappy with your destiny.” He stated. She said nothing, frightened into silence. She could feel the sheer force of power that radiated from him, dark and roiling like a deep turbulent sea. “No need to speak my child. I know what you seek. It’s why you have come to me. You, a daughter of creation, are scared of a lifetime of suffering and pain. Scared of relying upon another to free you from what would otherwise be an eternal prison.” he turned away, back towards the desk. She saw now that upon it lay a book bound in crimson leather, the ink within still shiny and fresh. “I’m not surprised by your fear, young one. Your Mother, while she possessed a great many qualities, tact was never one of them. But it is no matter. I am able to offer you what you wish. In fact, you could not have arrived at a more opportune time. I have just finished crafting the only spell you will require.”

Wariness filled Ianite, she’d paid attention well in her lessons despite working against her future. She knew that no magic, particularly magic this strong came without a price. If her feelings were correct, this price would be a costly one. But if this were to be her only option, what choice did she have? She watched as he closed the book then turned it so the spine rested upon the desk. He lifted a candle the color of the deep black void from its holder, tipping it so that wax dripped upon the fore edge and both covers, sealing it shut. He pressed a seal into the cooling wax then laid it back on the desk.

“But, I fear, you are not yet ready for it. A pity, truly.”

“I’m ready.” She’d found her voice but the words did not hold the conviction she had hoped, coming out wavering with nerves.

He didn’t even entertain the thought, scoffing in disappointment. “You are weak. You and your brothers both. I could kill you with a thought. But I will refrain, simply out of interest to see if one day you might be strong enough to tame my magic.” He turned back to her and raised a hand. “We will meet again one day my daughter, and perhaps then you shall impress me.” He flicked a finger and then she was waking up back in her bed.

She had a path now. A goal to strive towards. She would find that book and learn the spell. She would not allow her destiny to come to pass. No matter what it cost.

When the mortals arrived many many years later Ianite was just as surprised as her brothers. Her visions in the days leading up to their arrival had been filled with images of a man who changed little from reality to reality. In one he was her husband, in another her caretaker, her knight, her son, her servant, her confidant, many things but always close and always trusted beyond measure. When she opened her eyes in that temple, he was before her and suddenly she understood what the visions had been trying to show her. He was the hero from Mother’s prophecies. He was the one who was destined to save her from that crystal prison. He was not just her hero in that time but in all times, he was her Champion. Her one true follower.

She got to know him over the next weeks. He was clever, shy, funny, strong, quiet, patient, driven, level headed. She enjoyed simply speaking with him of everything and nothing. It was during one of their conversations that she learned of the life he’d lived before this one, of the world of far advanced magic and technology. It fascinated her to hear the details from a world she’d only seen glimpses of, but this led him to admit that that world had not been the first. That was when the theory he and the Zombie shared came to light. She understood then, he came from the future Mother had prophesied. A future where Ianite had been unable to accomplish her goals. They’d not yet figured out why they’d come back in time but it was then that Ianite’s plan became clear.

It was with his help that she would finally accomplish what she’d worked for almost her entire life. She’d felt her strength growing with each day she spent with him, with him at her side she would return to her Father’s temple and find the spell that would free her from her destiny once and for all.

She got her first peek of what potential her Champion had when the Zombie renounced Dianite. Jordan didn’t entertain even a scrap of belief that it was the truth, his cleverness turning calculating in a single moment. She felt his anger when she gave Syndicate a chance, saw the building fury in his eyes when she insinuated her faith may be placed in the newcomer. Yes, her Captain, while clearly a kind and good man at heart, had the potential to be the knight and warrior she needed him to be.

Her reassurances that his loyalty to her was not misplaced and that he would always be her favored champion were enough to calm his frustration with her but did nothing to temper his suspicions towards Syndicate. He stood at her side with his sword drawn as she formally accepted Dianite’s Fallen Champion, ice in his eyes. He was not happy about this, not at all. For what it was worth, she wasn’t either. It had been far too abrupt a shift to be anything but on purpose. Dianite had something in the works.

She’d heard nothing from either brother for weeks, since before the mortals had arrived. She was under no impression that they did not both have plans of their own. She doubted they had the conviction she did however. They had very little to avoid in their futures, perhaps Dianite may fear giving into his chaotic nature but Mianite had nothing to be concerned about. She was the only one of the three with such high stakes. Which was why she was the one who must be the strongest. If either of them were able to over power her they would put a stop to her plans. If she changed the future for herself it would most certainly change it for them as well. She had to contain and surpass them before they could do the same to her. She did not think they knew exactly what her goal was, did not know of the existence of Father’s spell, but she had no way to know for sure. It was the reason she’d accepted Syndicate’s fealty. Let Dianite think he had her fooled, a man who thought his actions were going to plan was a man who let his guard down.

She did learn another important lesson about her hero during this endeavor. Even in his anger, he remained far too good a man to willingly go against his friends or the other Gods. She had his loyalty but how far would that last if she asked him to take up arms against the others? No, if everything she’d heard of his past dealings with the other versions of herself was true, asking him outright to do anything of that nature would go against his sensibilities. She had to approach this a different way. Slowly, patiently, carefully she would get him more used to who she was in this time. She was not the scorned woman she was destined to become, nor was she the desperate pivot of balance in a world crumbling to ruin. She, this younger version of herself aiming to change the future, was the Goddess of all facets of Balance. She was a Goddess of Justice and of Vengeance. Justice for herself and the suffering she was fated to endure. Vengeance against the brother who would lock her in that cage and the brother who would do nothing while she faced millenia of torment. For in her Captain’s timeline, such a thing had already occurred. That was reason enough to get her revenge.

His loyalty to her would be the factor that led to her triumph. The lives he’d lived prior to this would be all she needed to convince him to see her side. Surely a loyal man such as him would not want to see her suffer. Surely he would not want to send her to that fate when he knew even more of what had happened than she herself currently did. The guilt he felt for ‘failing’ the last Ianite he had served would only aid her now. A man presented with a chance for penance would almost always seize it. She just had to get him to agree.

“But what if,” Jordan said slowly, tentatively, well aware that what he was saying was not what he should be suggesting , “we changed yours?”

“Jordan, what are you saying?” Ianite asked, pouring sweet and sickly innocence onto her voice. “We can’t change the future. It’s not right.”

“Neither was Dianite locking you in that prison for who even knows how long.” His voice was gaining certainty as he looked up from his hands and to her. “We have a chance to keep you from living through that. What if that was why I was sent back to this time? To prevent that from ever happening?”

“None of the others will allow it. My brothers want that future. They want a future where they are strong.” “But why do you have to suffer so they have the chance?” There is was, the spark of anger in his eyes when faced with injustice. She’d seen it for more mild matters before but it was exactly what she’d hoped to bring forth. Weeks of subtle manipulation and reinforcing her own views of balance were coming to fruition. “Who decided that you were the one who had to lose so that they could win?”

“It’s no one’s choice. It simply is. My Mother’s prophecy saw what must happen. The three of you heroes are to lead us to our fates and our truest strength, for my brothers it occurs now, for me it is once you return my heart to me.”

His eyes narrowed in determination and he squeezed her hand again, getting to his feet.

“Good thing I’ve never put much stake in prophecies.”

#Mianite #Mianite fanfiction #mianite is back yall #mianitian isles #syndicate #Captain Sparklez #ianite #dianite #dark!Ianite #my writing #part 1 #part 2 coming soon #words words words

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syndianites · 7 years

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How Do You Feel

Ship: Syndianite (Tom x S1 Dianite)

Summary: ♖: Soulmates can feel each other’s emotions

AN: +10 points for cheesy, super bad title. I started this in, like, September. It is very much not September anymore. Also, if you don’t know how old Tom is in whichever part, don’t worry, neither did I XD Had to write it for myself at the beginning of each ~~~ break. I’m just going to say in advance, its rather long

@syndcates Remember when I said I was going to write you a soulmate fic, like, months ago? I wrote it :D And actually finished!?!?!!!

Dianite was ungracefully slumped in his seat, wings pushed out in a jumble against the back. Beyond the tight flick of his tail, he was still. His gaze was full of ire, set upon the same spot it had been hours previous. The report that came in today. It told of the growing numbers in Mianite’s army, of the aggressive prodding at their shared border. Even their sister was apprehensive of his forwardness, Ianite seeing his haughty actions from a closer perspective. Being the bearer of peace and balance, she could feel when it was disturbed, when a great injustice to it was drawing nearer. And she prepared for a war.

So this, of course, irked him. Not only was he at a low point for his following, quite a number having exceeded their lifespan, he could clearly see a massive size difference between his and his brother’s people. If Mianite was in fact gearing up for battle, the god could do nothing but attempt to recruit more soldiers, and to intensify their skills. And despite her natural preference against conflict, he worked to gain the favor of his sister, to add more allies. If he could partake in any advantage against his brother, he would.

Though he wished to oversee the training of his warriors, he relinquished the responsibility to Furia, trusting both his own skills and leadership capabilities. Similar to the standard practice of his army, the fire demon worked into finding and exploiting weaknesses, when and how to fight dirty, drilling in loyalty to both him and the kingdom, as well as those fighting beside you. Of course the adults weren’t handling it well. But he was determined to have a cohesive army above anything else, to maintain flow and to cover one another. To prevent casualties.

Except, in the middle of his thoughts, stopping him from going to assess their progress, he felt… something.

It was small, a glimmer of feeling. But it was growing. With each passing second, it developed into a fuller experience. This small glimmer became… awe, almost happiness. A giggle bubbled up in his chest, baffling in its sudden appearance. His wings fluttered, releasing their cramped position, as he made an aborted, choked off sound. For the first time in hours, he sat up. With a hand over his mouth, he waited for the feeling to settle.

But almost as suddenly as it had appeared, it took a drastic turn. The urge to bawl, to just wail out into the air burst from nothing. A prickling sensation became seated behind his eyes, moisture building up in the front. Biting his lip, he took a deep breathe, trying to calm the splurge of emotion. For all the years he had lived, none had ever came upon him so spontaneously.

Surely this wasn’t what he thought it was.

For millennia he had been alone. He hadn't bothered with the trifles of love, of someone within this world being the one for him. But these sudden mood changes? They had to mean something.

His tail swayed lightly as he peered over the scouting reports, set to a light hearted rhythm. These reports were awful. Yet he couldn't stop the content feeling growing in his chest. The even beating of his heart. In the face of such wretched news, he never felt more relaxed. Despite the bitter acceptance he had made many lifetimes ago, he had to face the truth. He had a soulmate.

Even in such an uplifted state he couldn't resist intrusive thoughts. Why must he be bound to the fragile emotional state of a mortal? Surely, by the end of their lifespan, he'd also be subjected to the pain of their death? But he stopped himself.

Who honestly had it worse? This being, surely only a child, was bound to the God of Chaos. Not only would their life be influenced by his base instincts towards destruction, could they not be used as a sort of bargaining chip? If someone were to discover their link, what was stopping them from taking advantage of it?

But while such ideas were of serious concern, the quirk in his lips betrayed him. Even with his family, those he loved and cherished, and those he didn't, it was as though a weight had been taken off his chest. Beyond his sons, he knew that he would never feel the fabled eternal love and devotion for another. He had been certain he'd never have the chance. But as his wings smoothed out behind him, the quirk of his lips threatening to grow, it turns out he was wrong.

In the face of looming war, it should have been frustrating. He needed to focus. His people, his soldiers, his son, they were all looking to him for guidance. But here he was, carelessly lost in thought. It even showed beyond the privacy of his home. Most soldiers were too afraid to say anything, afraid they'd turn his mood for the worse. However, Furia had no qualms against pointing out the shift in demeanor.

In fact, only a few days prior, he was called out on it.

“You know Mom,” he addressed suddenly, “You’ve been a lot less upright recently. Almost distracted. Something is up.”

“I-I’ll, um, tell you at a better time.” Having been caught off guard, that was the best he could come up with. Of course, the observant child had chosen a time when his mind had trailed off, caught up in the trickle of curiosity from the bond. And his hurried response only served to heighten Furia’s curiosity.

And for the majority of the week after that, he still struggled to keep his attention on bettering his army. They, of course, were relieved by the dulled obsession with training. While they knew they needed to be the best, the edge of the devised training sessions were starting to wear on them.

Even with his small moments of distraction, they maintained continuous efforts. But they could sleep easier, rejuvenate faster now that the intensity had rounded out. Ironically, they improved faster.

Ianite, in her rare visits, noticed almost immediately. At first, she had simply assumed he had been given better news about the upcoming confrontation. But with each sudden twitch of his wings, phantom pull at his lips, bleeding of tension from his shoulders, it was clear this wasn't the case. And while she had her suspicions, she had no clear idea as to the source of his change.

Perhaps he has finally found something to live for.

She left it alone. It had been quite some time since she had seen him move between his people with such ease, one that spoke not of discipline or command, but of familiarity. This was looking to be an improvement. As long as this kept her balance set, or even strengthened it, it could stay.

Despite the Nether God’s best efforts, he couldn't help but notice a strange sort of… attachment growing for the being. He knew so little of it; what being was it, what gender, what kingdom? But, perhaps out of the nature of their bond, he grew fonder with every passing emotion.

It was almost exhilarating to experience the first time they'd feel a new one, just the knowledge that they were growing, becoming more aware. He just hoped that this wouldn't be his downfall.

But then Mianite made the first push into his territory.

The assault was sudden, giving them barely enough warning to soften the blow. They had run the risk of losing not only a string of towns along the border, but a trading hub as well. As it was, they only lost a smaller border town. And a good chunk of his army.

But as he paced the hallway outside his office, the small space unable to contain him, he couldn’t help but let his emotions slip. His tail slashed through the air, at times catching on the tiled floor, leaving small chips. Each hint of sound was met with a swift flick of his ears, straining to hear any approaching people.

His emotions bled across the bond.

At first it was met with a strange silence, eerie when contrasted with the steady stream of noise from the other end. But then a chilling, uncomfortable feeling came back to him. The effect had his wings pulling up, feathers puffing out. He could feel himself go rigid with discomfort, the base feeling of something being so undeniably wrong.

For the first time in the young being’s life, he felt them experience fear. All the rage that had settled into his bones earlier was flushed out with shame. What good would his anger do here? Ripping through his halls like an angry drunk, getting pissy with anything that moved, what did that help?

Shaking his wings out, he let out a huff. He need to give his people the assistance they needed. So many factors played into the perils of the attack, but one stood out in particular: a notable lack of healers. He’d need to employ the wizards to the east, with their vast magical capabilities. If his people were already determined to protect each other, those under captivity being as useless to their Mianitee enslavers as possible, then he must be as well.

As he strode off, purpose set in his gait, he tried to soothe his soulmate. He would not let them feel such wretched emotion again, especially of his doing. First, he would remove the arrogant god from his kingdom, then he’d set about keeping his a place that his people could thrive in relative peace.

After all, if he couldn’t let his people thrive, how could his soulmate thrive?

It took three years to drive his brother out.

Most of his kingdom suffered from the conflict. But along the border, they felt the worst of it. Towns, in fits of rage, had been pillaged and sacked, a number of residents beaten and left for dead. The roads were left in disrepair, demolished in attempt to stall relief forces from the center of the land. Families had been ripped apart, adults taken for labor and children used for tight space jobs. For a kingdom built upon justice and order, they pushed dangerously past the moral line between necessities and war crime.

For the soldiers that made it home, they carried the burden of their experience. Of seeing their brothers and sisters in arms fall around them, of the promises they made to each other. Promises that they would look after family, friends, for themselves. It was a weight they carried both with weightless determination and heavy despair. For many years to come, they would not find peace alone.

Even the wizards, so vibrant and mysterious in their power, returned home as less than what they had been. Some were eerily void of magic, their reserves depleted, the spark close to flickering out. Others were haunted by each surge of power that coursed through their veins. For them, there was no greater strength than the combined magic of your allies. But in this fashion, their very allies, each precious soul, sacrificed the last of their magic, their life force, in their final moments. These sacrifices, a blending of magic into their brethren, would lead to a generation of powerful wizards. A generation haunted by the loss of every individual.

Ianite, naturally neutral, suffered from the conflict. Each attack pushed at her balance, clawed at her mind. She had chosen to keep her people free of the battle, but it had come to them.

In secret, she had been supplying Dianite with food and living essentials. From her perspective, Mianite was the one who had disrupted the precarious balance. But once he found out, he determined her to be a threat. With no warning, he had sent a portion of his army to devastate the border between their kingdoms, making the mistake of letting them assualt those on Ianitee land.

This was the deciding factor in their struggle. Once Ianite was pulled in, she spared no mercy to right the wrongs done against her people. Where Dianite had felt the full force of Mianite’s attacks with each conflict, Ianite had only suffered minor casualties. Despite being a goddess centered on peace and balance, her army was of lethal capabilities.

Mianite, already weakened by the attacks in his brother, stood no chance under their combined efforts.

Now, the gods focused on recovery. Though they put a number of restrictions on Mianite and his kingdom, they gave some support to his efforts, to ensure that he wouldn’t desperately return to war as a way to scrape up more money or supplies.

While Dianite’s own merchants and soldiers were reluctant to send much assistance, Ianite’s people, bound by their beliefs of peace and fairness, gave no hesitation to go to their aid. Having suffered the least amount of damage, they had labor and resources to spare.

So Dianite divided his attention between dividing resources for recovery efforts and maintaining a steady stream of advice and orders for volunteers. His biggest focus was on border towns, those ravaged the most. Not only were they key to security, but they played a role in keeping up trade. Though many didn’t boast much trading efforts, they did enjoy the profits of supplying and entertaining passing tradesmen. If he wanted to rebuild his economy, he’d need to get his trade network back into high gear.

He had assigned a group of upper class volunteers, looking to positively add to their reputation, the task of renovating the trashed roads throughout the kingdom, when he felt the familiar presence in his mind.

Over these years, he had been held together by one thing: the growing conscience of his soulmate.

When the first inkling of fear wandered across their bond, he was quick to assume the worst. War had caught up to his soulmate. But even as it grew, it was dulled by the curiosity growing around it, the awe. But in that moment, after his heart had frozen in terror, he promised to destroy whoever invokes such a feeling from his soulmate.

While he had kept his own horror away from the bond, he couldn't get rid of the nasty taste he had been given. Where most other emotions left a lingering touch, fear had invaded more of his senses, a foul, rotten taste stuck to his tongue, a cold, slimy ick on his skin, the metallic, deadly scent of battle. It was horrific.

But as the curiosity turned to glee, he felt the sensations melt off his being. The bright, warm feeling settled back into his chest. It steadied him. And while he had only sent small snippets of feeling to his tiny soul, he hoped he did the same for them.

Though that had happened almost a year prior, it had stuck with him. And though they had small, purposeful exchanges of emotion, they could hardly communicate. So as time passed, he focused on making sure they never felt his rage, his sorrow, his agony, that they never felt anything but love and acceptance.

Right now, however, he battled with those very emotions. Despite his best efforts, his kingdom was still in shambles, his people suffering and weary. Though the anger had long since dimmed down to simmering in his chest, waiting. But such trifles were unnecessary, a mere obstruction for the ongoing plans for reconstruction.

The border towns were not recovering well. Once Mianite found them to be of no service, he took it upon himself to force them into submission. The results were horrific.

Families were torn from each other, forced to slave away for the good of his brother, left to survive in hardly livable conditions.

Such brutality could not be so easily rectified. Some traumas edited long past their happenings.

Disgust strung itself into the rampant blend of emotions. What was the point of such wretched deeds? If his land had been conquered, that would have been only a reason for rebellion. His people, let alone any other human, would never take such punishments lying down. A god of justice should know better.

Even as the burning ball of raw emotion twirled in his stomach, he could feel remorse sneak in. He should be able to fix this, he should have been able to stop it. He is a god after all.

Guilt and shame worked their way in, creating a volatile mixture of feeling. It had no release. There was no outlet for it. It had nothing to destroy but himself.

As it threatened to choke him, a timid feeling pushed at his mind. It was slow, shy, but it shone bright and settled the building storm within him.

The hesitant brush along his mind was clearly his soulmate. It was a familiar presence, a comforting one. But this was different, it held a purposeful, directed force. Gently, he reached out for it. The connection seemed to sharpen, to clear up, and one though rang throughout his mind: “Don’t be sad”

And if someone, something out there, so innocently wished for him to feel better, someone who barely knew him, he wasn’t sure whether to accept the thought. But the persistence of this tiny being held strong, and he begrudgingly let himself relax. Perhaps he should be more concerned that any mortal could have this much effect on him. He wasn’t.

A month had passed, and there was still no definite victor. Mianite had won nothing, but Dianite had still lost many. Even Ianite had lost something, and her mental state was not… on the best track. Once he had his kingdom in a better place, helped enough people for them to stand on their own, he would see to her.

He does admit to a grim satisfaction, however, when his scouts, closer to spies, returned from surveying the condition of Mianite and his land. While Mianite was in a similar position to himself, he was left with a rather large portion of his empire encased in ice. Surprisingly, it was in a place with less people, yet holding most of the god’s army. There was no trace of the perpetrator, and few actually knew who would have such capabilities. Most assumed Dianite had done it, as Ianite had yet to be fully pulled into the war. It wasn’t, but no one needed to know who it truly was. The gods and Furia knew, and that was enough.

Beside that, he was interested to note that most of his army had returned to their original practices, with the majority remaining had only ever been apart of it. From this information, he lightly assumed the god held no intention of another attack anytime soon. Though both had guards stationed along the border towns, Dianite was more focused into rebuilding, where Mianite was looking into establishing his kingdom’s economy and reinstating many forgone practices.

His sister remained more of a mystery, though the most obvious stance she was taking was fixing the damage done by Mianite’s surprise assault. While on a smaller scale than most taken on Dianite, as it was meant more towards a diversion, many of her people were still suffering the effects of it. Beyond that, the only happenings he was aware of with her, were the basic functions of her kingdom. Trade had not faltered, their relations had not changed, and her economy remained strong.

But a gut feeling told him something was off there. He hadn’t the time to investigate, however.

Four years in the running and the scars of war were still slow to fade. Communications with Mianite had been reestablished, and while merchants were only a tad hesitant to restart their trading, many of their people were content to avoid the other kingdom. Border towns were beyond hesitant to reestablish contact, they mostly refused to. Few believed in the healing relationship of the gods.

Despite slow developments, all seemed to be going well, even Ianite, who came out of the years closer to herself again. (Something in the back of his head screamed that this was wrong, Ianite is not herself). But even with all this progress, nothing made him more delighted than to feel what his soulmate does. As the child seemed to grow, so did his feelings. From the more basic emotions came more complex, happiness became euphoric or lighthearted, anger became irritation or rage, hurt became humiliation or insult. Even these branched off.

It was a journey of sorts, to feel someone’s range of emotion spread over time, when he had previously been in the thick of it. He found himself encouraging the positive emotions and trying to alleviate the negative ones. In a strange twist of events, they worked with each others feelings, trying to keep the other content if nothing else.

The very nature of their bond, however, was starling. Where most soulmates only felt vague emotions until they found one another, the two of them had been experiencing some far stronger than the norm. Hell, when they directed and focused hard enough, they could even convey simple thoughts. So, to one another, they were Tom and Dia. (The god didn’t want to reveal his full name, worried about the consequences of doing so. Little Tom was confused by this, but wasn’t too keen on asking).

And now, with how everything seemed to be fixing itself, he felt peaceful. He could tell that made Tom happy, judging by the cheerfulness coming from him. The recovery efforts were working out well, and many of the families disrupted by the war have finally been stabilized. Distantly, as he was supposed to be paying attention to the weekly report in the state of the kingdom post-war, he wondered how it affected Tom’s family.

Even throughout Tom’s younger years, he’d imagine that if they’d went through any hardships, Tom would have reflected that in some sort of confusion or distress. Surely, if he’d lived in his kingdom, the family would have been at least alarmed. God forbid (hah) that he lived in Mianite’s lands. Perhaps he could live in Ianite’s? No, her kingdom, with its rather closely tied, smaller span, would all be affected by the attack. Was he outside their area of rule?

He supposed it didn't matter. One day, he was determined to find the mortal and bring him here. If it's alright with him of course. Perhaps even invite his family. As long as Tom was happy.

But one of the presenters asked him something, and his thoughts were broken off.

It had been a prosperous year, nearly two, when it happened. One moment, he was contently teasing Furia about something or another, the next he was doubled over, practically punched in the gut by pure panic. There, in some small hallway, he felt the worst experience of his life.

Furia was crouched beside him, and he could vaguely make out words escaping his mouth. But his head was swimming with alarm, confusion, fearfearfear. It was hard to distinguish his own thoughts in the torrent of emotion.

He was torn between focusing on Tom, trying to figure out the problem, and on Furia, the warmth of his hands set upon his shoulders, to keep himself centered. The only response he could manage was a wave of concern, trying to get it through the mass swarming between them.

Nothing new came back. Just an ongoing stream of hurt and confusion, of terror and anguish. Furia did his best to man handle him back up, trying to drag him somewhere better than the corridor. He tried to focus on the world around him, but even his vision was blurring, his mind muddled. Putting on foot before the other, he struggled to stay upright.

This was terrifying. Though he tried to fight the feeling, to keep it away from the already panicked Tom, he could feel it seep into him. On one hand, he didn't know anything in regards to what was happening to Tom. He didn’t know where he was, or how to trace the bond. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring Tom to him or help him from here. It was as simple as he didn’t know what he looked like or who exactly he was. The entire concept was frustrating.

On the other hand, he was not used to feeling so… useless. Well, more so powerless. It had been a long time, too short of a time to his liking really, since he had felt stripped to this extent. Memories he has long repressed were the last hint of such disastrous emotion. Yet here was this mortal, who felt so very helpless in his own right, taking the god down so far. The pure force behind his emotions was enough to make Dianite feel crippled in a way, and this horrified him.

But as Furia managed to get him to his room, settling him on his bed, he was pushed farther towards the pure worry for Tom. In the short time he had come to know him, mere years to the centuries of his existence, the child had wormed far into his heart. And to lose him without even meeting him? To lose the supposed other half of his soul? He would not stand for this.

With the fiery being curled against him, trying to offer any comfort his words could not convey through the haze in his mind, he tried something different. With their bond, they could share feelings and thoughts, however vague they were. Being a god, what is to say he couldn't siphon part of his power, the energy of it, to Tom, in hopes of ending his woes? REgardless of whether the child would appropriately handle them, if it solves the problem, why not?

Trying to sort out the wave of horror pushing towards him, he made the best path in the backlogged connection. His efforts rewarded him with a steady stream pushing through the torrent of emotions, finding its way to Tom. With that, he sent one thought, pushing to keep it clear. And once it reached him, the flood in his mind ebbed, a solemn determination ringing through instead.

‘Use this power to save yourself’

At first, despite the child’s resolve, the pull on his power was hesitant, as though he wasn't certain of his actions. But then, with a jerk he was convinced Furia must have felt, it was pulled on. And somewhere far away, unknown to his distressed senses, chaos was created. It was its own storm, an experience of unstable proportions through both ends, but it was centered. Somehow contained. When Tom cut the flow of energy to his creation, both minds rang silent.

Dianite could sense more than feel Furia beside him, but now he could hear connecting phrases, words forming to convey a message. As his mind focused back on his body, he could feel the light fingers brushing through his wing, the firm hand pressed against his collar, keeping him upright. Looking into his son’s eyes, genuine concern shone up at him. “Better?” Furia helped him settle further into the bed, resting against the may pillows at its head.

He wanted to say yes, but with the echoing silence from his constant companion, he wasn’t too sure.

The answer was no. Abso-fucking-lutely no. While the tempest was quelled within his own mind, Tom’s was quiet, brooding. For a child full of such mischief and energy, this was more of a warning than the previous experience. And for yet another time, Diantie felt helpless.

Was he in shock? He had no way to know. Asleep? Even in his slumber aborted feelings brushed against his mind. Drugged? Surely even in a drugged stupor, some feeling would shine through. The state of unknowing was killing him slowly, and this wouldn't help Tom.

So while he outwardly remained infallible, he did his best to keep his emotions and thoughts softer, trying to convey comfort and stability. He hoped it was working. So far he received only mute emotions, too muddled with others to mean much.

But it was progress nonetheless.

This continued for days, weeks. After a month and three weeks, something changed. It was a spark, small but powerful, of hope. Beyond the minute responses of happiness he could occasionally drag from Tom, there was actual joy. Whatever it was, he was glad Tom found it.

But Dianite knew it wouldn't be that easy. Even with the reluctant growth of happiness in his soulmate, he still held onto an unshakable grief. It lingered in every blip of feeling that wandered over the bond.

Though Tom had tried to mask what he felt over the past year, from before the accident, he wasn't good at it. So even in his calmest moments, grief rested on his shoulders as an armor against the world. The more he felt it, the less he experience other things. When blocking out his despair, he rage, his hopelessness, it wasn't a bad thing. But now, when love or joy tried to sneak back into his life, it was snuffed out by the ever present grief.

As time wore on, he started to notice a change. It was less heavy on Tom’s side of the bond. Albeit begrudgingly, he seemed to take comfort in this new presence. With Dianite still streaming bits of feeling and thought to him, he was given one back, for the first time in months.

‘I like Adam’

While god chose not to read too much into that, when his first assumption was rather unlikely, he poked more at Tom.

‘Who is Adam?’

His first response was a small peek of excitement, before a splotch of frustration followed.

‘Not supposed to say’

The god raised an eyebrow, casting a curious look towards the wall, in place of his companion.

‘Oh? Well, where are you then?”

The frustration flattened out to make way for irritation.

‘Can’t tell you that either’

Dianite let out a sigh. By now the god had found himself seated in his throne once more, only having gotten out of it mere moments ago. Flicking his tail back and forth, he rested his head on his fist. If Tom’s new… friend didn’t want to be described or have his location revealed, he could be a criminal. Or, perhaps, from the war. Countless Mianitees had been outraged or ashamed of the act. Some had been publicly criticized. It was only after the war that anyone outside the kingdom heard of the internal riots and insubordination over it.

But as Furia strode into the room, nodding at the guards to let in those with an appointment, he knew he didn't have the time to ask. Straightening up, evening out his expression, he gave one last thought to Tom, before focusing in.

‘Just stay safe love’

Over the past few years, Dianite could say many things in his life were improving.

His kingdom had risen from the destruction and re-entered the world economy with relative ease.

The wizards that had assisted him, though not apart of his kingdom, due to their own mysterious happenings, were recovering from the traumas of magic. Quite a number of them stayed connected with their army comrades, partially as a way to cope, partially to feel more connected to society. He found that the magical population within his people had risen.

In terms of former and current soldiers, a good deal were trying to keep centered in the midst of their memories. IT was evident that many were haunted by their recollections, but most found solace in the companionship and assistance of their peers. If all went well, Dianite could better establish a system to get them readily available professional help. His people were, after all, his priority.

Ianite seemed to have gotten her kingdom in well working order, almost as though no trifles had arisen among her people. Only if one were to look closely could they seek the cracks were things had been put back together, the faint scars of what had needed to heal. And though she looked strong, Ianite herself had her faltering moments.

Mianite, despite having taken the most damage, reestablished his kingdom rather well. Though his siblings had taken it upon themselves to assist in the rebuilding, so that his people didn’t suffer, they assumed he would learn from his mistake. Really, he didn’t. Instead, it took the effort of his people, who were in favor of those who had helped them, rather than the god that had instated such disaster, to get him to a better place.

Once they had settled, they were quick to press for change. First, they had focused on removing the people currently holding office. While the disgruntled aristocrats were able to keep their land and holdings, those of ‘lesser’ status had been tasked with replacing them. Many of these people were, not surprisingly, generals or commanders in the army. However, they were picked rather carefully.

It was no secret that some of the soldiers took sick pleasure in the chaos and destruction they had caused. (It was rather ironic, for they assumedly followed the god of order and justice). Most of the selection power was given to those of lower command in the army, the simpler soldiers. The throwaways, the footmen, those who were the barrier for the more elite, or for the ranged. Whether this came about from the sheer number of them, or the peculiar disappearance of a number of higher standing army men was left to speculation.

Regardless, under the supervision of his people, Mianite worked focused on supporting his kingdom.

And Dia was focused on none other than his soulmate.

Ever since he found this mysterious ‘Adam’, he had gotten happier by the day. Exuberance popped up without warning, spots of pure mischief growing until pure joy burst from him. (Sometimes it was followed with alarm, as well as humor. He assumed he was finding trouble for his fun). It was so much better than the wretched period of emptiness and despair. And for a time, he had forgotten that Tom was allowed to feel such negativity.

Until he received another taste of bitter pain.

Unlike his early encounters with it, this was more closely entwined with hurt, betrayal. To make it worse, it had been slow. It was a creeping sensation, one that happened as a slow realization. A slow burn that tore at his insides, making hard for him to quell his rage.

Before he could start any response, Tom hesitantly sent him a thought.

‘Adam says it's for the best. That he leaves me. That people were coming for him and he can't let them get to me.’

The god was startled by this. Not only had Tom said more than ever before, but the information he gave was enough for him to connect the dots. His soulmate had been taken in by none other than Seananners, well known black market dealer, pirate, and thief. He lived in infamy, keeping his allies under strict code to ensure safety. Many times, he has teased authorities with false information of his group.

Seananners was one of his favorite criminals.

But Tom was clearly distraught over this. Though he knew Seananners only let his people go when there was serious danger, he wanted Tom to have a safe group to be with. Too many times, kids were picked up by abusive people, those who chose to use their smaller size to their advantage. And Seananners was far from that.

He had to make sure his soulmate stayed safe.

‘Did he say anything else?’

Tom gave off mild confusion.

‘He, uh. He said… something about Optic people?’

Of course, Adam would suggest another criminal group. In all honestly, he was partially surprised that they had any relation. Due to the size of his land, they mainly operated on separate areas. Very rarely had he heard of either crossing into one another’s territory of sorts.

Though, he should know better with Nanners.

‘It’d be best for you to seek them out. Do you know your way about the kingdom?’

On another note, Tom was in fact in his land. As long as he kept his kingdom safe, he could keep Tom safe. His people, while not the samaritans Mianite had boasted of his own, were against the poor treatment of children. If all else, they would find great consequence in hurting his soulmate.

‘Yeah. Mostly. Adam said to keep to the main roads, so it should be fine?’

Dianite idly reached up to tug on a horn. Stroking his nails across the grooves, he let out a huff.

‘Be safe. I’ll do my best to help you.’

A pang of longing echoed in his chest as he felt Tom unfocus from their bond. He felt so far from him. The urge to have him safely wrapped in his arms, by his side, just… with him. It felt wrong to be without him, and even though he pushed the feeling aside with practiced ease, he knew it was there.

But as he felt Tom distance himself, his way of cutting off emotions, he could only let himself mope for a little longer. He had work to do. If he wanted to make sure Tom was safe, he need to make sure his kingdom was safe. Furia would be delighted.

Some days, Diantie wondered if letting Tom join the Optics was a mistake. As he peered down at the growing number of reports piled at his desk, he slumped in his chair. Today, the answer was a sure fire yes. Blowing a loose feather out of his face, he distantly watched it float to the ground. With a flick of his tail, it was push up towards the desk, to land precariously on the edge.

Groaning, he reluctantly pulled himself up, settling into a more rigid posture. The particular paper on top was of the most recent offense. It was “An Attack of Most Ridiculous Resentment” where the victim was at the tail end of a revenge crime, “for such a petty reason as one of the men having been allegedly ‘abused’ by me in the past. I swear I have no idea who he is-”. This was one of the more boggling cases, where the others were a mix of robin hood attempts and everyday mischief. To be honest, he had a hard time getting mad over it.

Collecting the papers and stacking them in a semi-organized pile, he stood from his seat. He stretched with a groan, his wings followed his moments, gently and carefully brushing against objects in the room before stopping at the walls. Pulling his wings back in with a grumble, he set upon himself to get some sleep. Furia wouldn’t have to gripe at him that way.

The trip to his room wasn’t long, but exhaustion seeped into him gleefully with every step he took. The perks of being a godly being came with boundless energy for long periods of time, gifts beyond mortal comprehension, and a mass of followers. However, it would appear such luxuries did him no good against the natural processes of his own body.

As he settled himself into the silken sheets, shifting to lay on his stomach so as to keep pressure off his wings, he sighed at the low hum of joy in the back of his mind. Despite the rampant chaos the group chose to cause, he didn’t regret leading Tom to them. The past five years have been so much better to his soulmate, his emotions so much lighter. Though he was initially wary, a mixture of anxiety and fear floating through their bond, Tom seemed quick to make friends.

It was a nice feeling, knowing that Tom was safe. The he had people that were there for him. People who were going to stay. The Optics were known, in the underground world, for always taking care of their own. They were a band of outcasts essentially, those who lost their family, who were turned away at every door. Together, all these people made a family for each other.

He could feel his eyes starting to droop, as he let himself relax, curling an arm under his pillow. With the pleasant buzz in the back of his mind, he let himself drift off. He knew Tom would be safe.

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when Dianite was awoken by a sudden rush of panic. In his groggy stupor it was startling, and forgot for a moment that it might originate from the bond. For the few moments after his eyes shot open, he switched from immediately surveying his room for threats, and frantically trying to determine what he may have thought of to cause the panic.

When he felt a cold spike of terror, he snapped into wakefulness. This wasn’t him, this was Tom. Tom was in trouble. Pushing himself up, giving his wings a quick shuffle, he clenched his teeth. These were the times he wished to be able to be by Tom’s side. To defend him, to keep him out of trouble. As it was, the best he could do was get up and see if the trouble was something he could stop from his end. It likely wasn’t

Though he found himself an impressive stack of paperwork upon arriving to his office, not one sheet mentioned anything about the Optics. And with a generic name such as Tom, with no last name, he had little way of knowing whether he had been caught as a regular civilian.

He received no news concerning Tom until much later. The sun was finding it's way back down the sky, and his head was a mixture of unpleasant emotion, with the occasional stroke of defiance. It was during one such instance, where he could only assume Tom was digging himself a grave, that Furia entered his office with a rushed gait.

“They captured two Optic members,” he began quickly, “One under the codename of Nadeshot, one under the name of Syndicate.”

Furia let his breath settle, before continuing, “I told the men overseeing them that you would like to have a look at them, since you know,” he gestured towards his own head, “That lovely connection you have.”

The fiery demon had barely finished saying the last bit before Dianite was out of his seat. Carrying himself with purpose, he took long strides, Furia muttering irritatedly under his breath as he half jogged to keep up. The younger being would miss for very few things in the world. After all, he could get to meet his Mom’s soulmate.

The corridors seemed to stretch on forever, but in reality the god made it to the holding cells in mere minutes. The guards, who were casually talking amongst each other, hastily stood attention when he strut inside. He waved a hand at them before they could say anything, dismissing them. With flustered bows, they exited the room.

Waiting until their footsteps faded into the distance, he motioned for Furia to retrieve one of the men. Rolling his eyes, he found the gate keys inside a desk pushed into a corner, and approached the man dressed in white robes. He stepped out of the cell after exchanging a wary glance with his companion. There was an almost unsettling quiet through the bond.

Leading the human into the questioning chamber, a room much kinder than the interrogation chamber a floor below, he pondered what to say. Giving himself time to think, he motioned for the other to take a seat.

Deciding on his words, he calmly stated, “As I’m sure you’ve figured, my name is Dianite, though some know me by Dia.” He felt no change in emotion from his bond, so surely this man was not Tom. “I am here to ask only one question: Are you part of the Optic group?”

The man hesitated for a moment before answering, “I… yes, I am.”

With a small nod, he jerked his head towards the door, and the human hastily exited the room. Moving to stand by the doorframe, he nodded at Furia to release the other man once he had locked his most recent companion back up. A few clicks and clunks later, and he was making room for the next man to enter. Still, the bond was quiet.

Shutting the door, Dianite began in the same fashion, “I am Dianite, as you surely have figured out by now, though some know me as Dia.” He bit back an overjoyed smile as that brought a reaction through the bond. A thick shock and surprise.

“Is your name Tom?” he finished, holding his breath. At the wide eyed, disbelieving look on his companion’s face, he couldn’t stop a smile from overtaking his own face.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

(AN: First off: Sorry this took literal months to write DX. Second: This is. Seventeen. SEVENTEEN. PAGES. Third: I was editing it, but I may have given up around the seventh page since there was just so much more to go through. I hope you like it! ((Though the ending feels rushed rip)) )

#Syndianite #Diacate #TomxDianite #DianitexTom #SyndicatexDianite #DianitexSyndicate #Mianite #MianiteS1 #took me way too long to finish this #rip #hope its actually good

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