The Benefits Of Route Optimization In Last Mile Delivery Software
1) What are the advantages of route optimisation in last-mile delivery software?
We live in the Age of Technology. Technology has an influence on all parts of life, from the minute we get up until we rest for the night!
As a result, it should come as no surprise that technology has advanced to previously unfathomable heights in an area that is sophisticated, huge, and functions on a frenzied global scale 24*7. The Logistics and Distribution Industry, to be specific.
We follow our Uber driver as he approaches our pickup location, our Amazon shipment as it travels the miles, our food delivery as it approaches, and our meds as they reach closer through, well, a drone! The list is enormous, and none of it would have been possible without modern technology. And, importantly, the technology deployed across the last mile of delivery.
Last-Mile Delivery Definition
Last-mile delivery is the final leg of delivery in the area of Logistics, Distribution, and Shipping, where a delivery leaves a warehouse for ultimate delivery to the end client.
It is the path that a delivery vehicle travels from an Amazon Fulfillment Center to the end-door, customer's for example.
It is the most complicated, costly, difficult, and resource-intensive step in the whole delivery cycle!
2) What are the main advantages of route optimisation in last-mile delivery software?
Let's take a look at some of the most important advantages of last-mile technologies in terms of route optimisation.
I Increased visibility: One of the most significant advantages of today's last-mile delivery software is the visibility it provides its users, from supply-chain stakeholders who are signed in to the end-user.
The modern consumer (e.g., Ecommerce consumer, online-food customer, parents of school-bus children, online grocery customer) wants to know where his parcel/vehicle is - when it is shipped, which distribution warehouse it has progressed to, when it is out for final-delivery, i.e. the last-mile that ends at his doorstep. Or even if it's late.
This has been provided by delivery software, which has vastly improved visibility and end-to-end shipping tracking - the consumer may follow his goods at all times. This gives your consumer the much-needed 'peace of mind'! It also allows you greater leeway when it comes to late delivery for justifiable causes (traffic congestion, weather, etc.).
Delivery Operations Optimization
Setting goals for successful delivery and then studying (and implementing) techniques to attain those goals is the first step in optimising delivery operations.
Prioritizing orders based on significance is also vital, as is preparing the delivery procedure accordingly.
Route optimisation, delivery drop planning, and fleet vehicle and driver organisation are all critical stages towards attaining this.
Although not "purely measured" in dollars, it is easy to picture the numerous expenses and efficiency measures that are substantially improved as a result of this single factor. Customer service work hours, customers who would have become furious as a result of late deliveries without being told, customer pleasure as a result of a visible and linked last leg of delivery…well, the list of advantages is lengthy.
ii) Reduced operational costs (e.g., maintenance, fuel): Modern logistics tactics such as micro-warehousing (for common everyday products), urban warehousing, and a judicious mix of big and satellite warehouses (e.g., etc.) are critical to reducing delivery times.
All of this was largely heralded by the "Amazon-ization" of the delivery model, which included same-day and 24-hour delivery. This entailed storing your stuff as near to the final destination as feasible.
While the benefits to the end user are obvious, administering such a sophisticated network is a difficult endeavour. Yet, the introduction of current delivery software, driven by AI, ML, and strong algorithms, enables such a complicated activity to be managed efficiently. As a consequence, it reduces the number of miles driven, the amount of fuel consumed, the amount of maintenance necessary, and the amount of pollutants produced, or even (total) resources consumed. Ultimately, this leads to lower operating costs, which contributes to overall business profitability.
Is it possible for your last-mile delivery to be profitable?
Although last-mile delivery is the most expensive portion of the supply chain, firms may still earn a significant profit by employing tried-and-true ways to reduce costs while enhancing efficiency.
ii) Faster delivery: Regardless of what you do to "better the logistics and delivery company," the end consumer is simply concerned with obtaining his packages as soon as possible and at a reasonable delivery fee!
While it may seem obvious, reduced delivery times are the primary benefit of route optimisation, and they cannot be overstated. It is now frequently the deciding factor between a buyer choosing one brand/company over another, i.e. the USP, or essential differentiator.
The Difficulties in Establishing Last-Mile Delivery.
Expensive
Complicated logistics, lightning-fast implementation
Route planning and optimisation
Controlling the supply chain
Controlling your delivery fleet (including drivers)
Inverted logistics (for rejected, or failed deliveries)
iv) Electronic proof of delivery (ePOD): Based on the previous point, electronic proof-of-delivery is another significant factor in reducing delivery times.
The days of the courier tossing a delivery on your front porch and labelling it "delivered" are long gone! Carriers now want physical proof of shipment delivery. Pictures, e-signature, and barcode scanning are some of the common ways that delivery software has enabled further shortening of the entire delivery process - remember, if it took painstakingly long to complete the paperwork after having arrived at your customer's doorstep, it would still extend the process and likely dissatisfy - and annoy!- the customer.
v) Using your current shop and warehouse network: Retailers with an extensive brick-and-mortar retail network, as well as warehouses to supply those retail outlets, are now utilising it as a brilliant combo.
As previously stated, adopting micro-warehouses or urban warehouses is crucial for reducing delivery times. Retailers are now employing certain physical retail sites as fulfilment facilities. This involves using a retail store that is currently open to the public as part of an order fulfilment warehouse.
This is a win-win situation since real estate space may be used more efficiently, increasing total corporate ROI. The beginning of the epidemic pushed this plan into action, and it has flourished since then.
This is a particularly useful technique for merchants who have physical stores near big client regions and are also available online. If you prefer, you may purchase online and pick it up in-store instantly, rather than having to wait even a few hours. After all, need is the mother of innovation!
Conclusion: As can be seen, there are several advantages to route optimisation through the use of contemporary, automated, GPS-enabled last mile delivery software. Be careful to choose one that meets your company's requirements.
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Letters, pt 4: Finale
pt.1 pt.2 vf.pt.1 pt.3 vf.pt.2
(Trigger Warning: traumatic flashbacks and death.) (Settle in folks, this is quite possibly the longest one I’ve ever written)
Musrio stumbled wearily up the porch steps of his small, cozy hive that he shared with Drayco, only to stop on the porch landing and stare at the door. The sun was rising behind him, he should really go inside, he thought.
But he really, really didn’t want to go in there. It made his chest ache to think it, but it was true. He could feel his bilesack clenching with anxiety already. He didn’t want to face Drayco... Or whatever it was that looked like Drayco.
The troll he shared a hive with was not the troll he’d become black for. They were not the person who’d put a ring on his finger, or stayed up studying with him late into the day. The silver engagement band burned against his finger, and he resisted the urge to pull it off.
Not for the first time, Musrio contemplated leaving. He could turn around, right that second, and walk away. He could go back to the bookhive and look up hives that were available, far away from here. Maybe in East Alternia. Hell, he could stow away on a Fleet ship and get dropped off on another planet.
But even as he thought it, he knew he wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Drayco was sick, and they needed him. They’d been diagnosed with Malum Langoreum less than two sweeps ago, and were only getting worse with each night. Although... that wasn’t completely the ML’s fault. If Musrio left, and Drayco started coughing up blood again, then no one would be around to help them.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Musrio took a deep breath and opened the door. The hive was dark when he entered. That wasn’t uncommon, Drayco liked it dark, as their current medication gave them migraines.
What made Musrio pause was the silence.
The hive was dead quiet. Not even the frogs in Musrio’s aquarium in the main room were croaking. The air was still and tense. Musrio edged out of the foyer, his footsteps like thunder in his ears.
“Deedee?” He called out softly, worried. Were they taking a nap? They couldn’t be, they liked falling asleep to music. So where...? He paused in the middle of the living room, straining to hear. Drayco’s combat boots were still by the coat rack, and their leather vest still hung over a hook, so they hadn’t stepped out. Maybe they were in the backyard? With the sun beginning to peak over the horizon, it wasn’t likely.
A soft scuffle behind him was the only warning he had.
Musrio whirled around, just in time to avoid the fucking knife swinging for him.
He leaped back with a cry of shock, his legs slamming into the coffee table. His knees buckled and, unbalanced, he fell over the low table, sprawling on his back. His head slammed onto the floor and he groaned, fireworks exploding behind his eyes.
He blinked rapidly to clear them and sat up in time to see Drayco grab the coffee table, lifting it with more strength than they should have had, and throw it across the room. It slammed into the TV, shattering the screen and knocking it over. Both objects hit the floor with a deafening crash, making Musrio cringe away in fear. He scrambled backwards on his hands and feet, staring up at the bronzeblood as they turned back to look at him, the knife still gripped in their hand.
“Dr- Drxyco? I- whxt did I do?” Musrio whispered shakily, terror robbing him of his voice. The thing that was once his kissmassis didn’t reply.
Musrio’s breath caught in his throat when he saw their eyes; their eyes were black where they used to be yellow, and glowing green where they used to be brilliant amber. Musrio’s gaze flickered to the black skeletal hand tattoo emblazoned on their shoulder; it, too, was glowing a viridescent shade.
Drayco seemed to pause when they heard their name, and for the smallest, tiniest moment, Musrio saw recognition in their eyes. But then it was gone, and they were scowling, their lips peeling back to bare their fangs. They dove forward, knife at the ready to stab.
Musrio shrieked and rolled out of the way, kicking away from them and scrambling to his feet. He leaped backwards as Drayco stood and lunged again, a snarl ripped from their throat as they swung. Musrio lashed out, panicked, catching the other troll’s wrists.
“Drxyco, stop it!! Plexse! It’s me! It’s Mushy, your Mushy, don’t you- don’t you recognize me?!” He cried desperately, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. A growl rolled in Drayco’s chest as they tried to jerk their hands out of Musrio’s grip. Terrified, the rustblood hung on; he was stronger than Drayco, who’d become somewhat frail from the ML, but Drayco was still bigger than him.
The bronzeblood wrenched their wrists to the sides, effectively tearing them out of Musrio’s grip, before they swung their leg around.
Musrio bellowed in pain as he was roundhouse kicked in the stomach, sending him falling back against the wall and doubling over as he coughed, trying not to heave up his lunch. While he was distracted, Drayco flipped their grip around on the knife and rushed him again.
The rustblood looked up quickly, trying to see through the tears pouring down his face, and reached out blindly to try and stop them. His flailing hand collided with Drayco’s elbow, propelling their arm to the side and sending the blade slashing sideways instead of stabbing.
Musrio screamed this time as blood sprayed from where the knife connected. He released his grip on Drayco and clutched his face, knocking his glasses askew, as agony tore through him. From his right cheek, over the bridge of his nose, and to his left cheek, Drayco’s blade had cut a deep, jagged wound that was bleeding profusely. His legs would have given out if he hadn’t been pressed against the wall.
A snarl above him made him jerk his head back up. A fist seized him by the horn, dragging his head upwards as he wailed in pain, his face hot and fingers sticky with blood.
“Drxy-” He sobbed, but whatever he’d been going to say was cut off as the knife was violently ripped across his throat, a little messier than intended because of his struggling.
Another spray of blood, and Musrio was choking, struggling to breathe as his sweater turned rusty crimson. The fist on his horn released and he fell to the floor, gagging on the blood that pumped from his severed arteries.
He struggled to speak, to move, as his vision began to become static, like he was peering through a snow storm. Panic was filling him as fast as blood was leaving him; he was dying. A hand fisted his hair, jerking his head back up.
Through the haze, he saw the gleam of Drayco’s knife; they intended to finish the job, he thought. With a rush of adrenaline and fear, Musrio somehow got his legs under him. In a desperate ploy, he lunged for the knife.
His vision kept going black for mere seconds. He couldn’t feel his limbs. His neck and chest were soaked and hot, and his head was full of his own voice, pleading for his body to hold on.
When the darkness cleared again, Musrio found himself pinning Drayco to the ground, his knee pressed into their stomach and one hand on their face. He was confused on how he overpowered them. His other hand was raised in the air, the sticky, blood covered blade gripped in his hand. He didn’t know when he’d gotten the knife, either. His palm was bleeding from where Drayco had bitten him. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there; he couldn’t remember moving besides going for the knife.
His vision clouded again, but not with darkness. Tears were pouring from his eyes, and a gurgling sob rattled in his throat.
“I... I’m s- so s- sor- rry.” He croaked, before he plunged his hand downward.
The blade sliced through flesh and muscle and bone, right into his lover’s heart. Drayco moaned in pain, their struggling stopping as their body seized. Musrio coughed and choked, feeling blood splatter into the back of his throat and mouth. With a jerk, he pulled the blade back out and collapsed, falling on top of Drayco before rolling off of him.
He collapsed to the floor, staring up at the ceiling. He was dying, he thought. That was certainly annoying. He didn’t want to die yet. He coughed, gurgling out a laugh, before he shut his eyes.
Beside him, Drayco’s eyes had returned to normal, and they’d managed to turn their head to see the love of their life, dying at their side. They didn’t know how that had happened, but they knew they were dying, too. They whimpered, shaky fingers reaching for his hand. Their fingers brushed his, before their hand went limp and the lights went out behind their eyes, a final rattling, gurgling breath leaving them.
Musrio, loyal to the last, grasped their fingers with his last bit of strength, before his heart stopped beating.
At 7:06 that evening, Drayco died.
At 7:07 that evening, Musrio died.
.
.
.
.
.
.
At 7:18 that evening, Musrio woke up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Musrio tossed the letter onto the table, leaning forward and burying his head in his hands.
He was sat at the table with Drayco, their cups of coffee abandoned to the side as the two of them contemplated the piece of paper. The dark green envelope they’d pulled it from had fluttered to the floor, the golden wax seal- with an imprint of a sun with eight, wiggling rays and eight bubbles- broken.
“He’s bxck.” Musrio whispered as Drayco watched him anxiously. “He’s bxck, Dee. I thought he’d lexve us xlone xfter whxt hxppened, but...” He reached for his coffee, sitting up and taking a deep gulp of the scalding drink. Drayco reached for the letter, but Musrio’s hand shot out and caught their wrist. Drayco froze as Musrio put his mug down, gasping. “Don’t, Dee. Just... don’t. It’ll torture you more thxn it does me. Ribbit.” He croaked.
Drayco hesitated, but nodded, withdrawing their hand. “What dooes it say?” They asked. Musrio reached up, grasping his amulet and playing with it anxiously as he stared at the paper.
“They... they wxnt to meet us. They wxnt to see “whxt we’ve become”. They... they know xbout you. They know you’re bxck.” He said softly, his shoulders drawing up. “I- Dee, we cxn’t- we cxn’t go see them. We- whxt if they try to-?”
Drayco reached out and took Musrio’s free hand in both of their own, squeezing it comfortingly. “She’s noot gooing too doo that, Mushy. I woon’t let her. I have noo intentioon oof gooing back too the Black Hand, not even if their leader herself begs me back.” They soothed, rubbing the back of Musrio’s hand with their thumb.
“But... the txttoo... Whxt if they mxke you...?” Musrio mumbled, unable to look at his mate.
“Mush, I’ve toold yoou. If I coould get the tattoooo remooved, I woould. But every time I’ve tried, it coomes back. She has claim oon me, foorever, but that dooesn’t mean I have too listen too her.” They explained patiently, “He can’t toouch me anymoore. I woon’t let them. Besides, yoou put wards oon it, didn’t yoou?”
Musrio hesitated, before he nodded begrudgingly.
“Then we’re fine. They can’t toouch me if I’m with yoou. He gooes after the meek and scared, and when I’m with yoou, I feel like the bravest trooll oon Alternia.” Drayco purred. They reached up and pulled their oxygen mask down, before lifting Musrio’s hand. They raised it to their lips, kissing his knuckles softly.
Musrio looked at them, then looked away again with a huff. “Thxt’s incredibly cheesy.” He muttered, feeling his ears burn. Drayco snickered, replacing their mask and setting Musrio’s hand down.
“Babe, I’m a fucking quesoo dip when it coomes too bad lines foor yoou.” They hummed. Musrio shook his head, amused, before his small smile faultered.
“Whxt xre we going to do, Dee? He obviously knows where we live... Xnd I doubt even my strongest spells will keep him xt bxy for long. Ribbit.”
Drayco laid their chin on their palm, thinking. “... Hoonestly, I kind oof want too goo see her.” They admitted. Musrio jerked his head up, incredulous, and they hurried on, “Just because... I want too see what they’ve becoome, toooo. Last I heard of him, he was oon the rise too stardoom. I’ve seen their face oon magazines and in the news. And... I dunnoo, maybe we can reasoon with them. Secoond chances exist, yoou knoow? We coould throow her a boone.”
Musrio’s expression hardened, his eyes suddenly cold. “I don’t throw bones in front of mxd bxrk-bexsts, Drxyco.” He said, pushing away from the table and standing up. He turned away, one hand still rubbing the face of his amulet. Drayco sat up, startled, suddenly afraid they’d upset him.
“Mus-”
“Fine.” Musrio interupted with a sigh, the tension in his shoulders suddenly releasing, “We cxn go see her. But under one condition: Under no circumstxnces do you show off your other form. I don’t wxnt them to know xbout it. Ribbit.”
Drayco hesitated, before they nodded. “Deal.”
“Then go get rexdy. I’ll meet you xt the door in thirty minutes.” Musrio turned back to the table, snatching up the letter before marching towards the stairs.
While Drayco headed to their room, Musrio went up to his lab. He quietly shut the door behind himself and calmly sat down on the loungeplank, before burying his face in his hands and finally letting out the whimper he’d been bottling up.
It’s not true, it can’t be true, he couldn’t really be... could he? His heart was hammering, his organs twisting themselves into knots. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, so there was no way he...
Lurching to his feet, Musrio stumbled to his work table. Laying the letter out flat, he glanced over it once more:
“To my most loathsome and detested Musrio Almawt~,
I know what you are~. I know who you’ve become~. You only know hal7 o7 that, don’t you~? Lenachra~. Such an intimidating word, is it not~? And yet you are a pathetic whelp who cowers behind a god that cares 7or you not~.
The Abyssal Ravager loves only me~. They care only 7or me~. You are bound to them in a way you should not be~. You take their power, but you do not use it wisely~. You wound them with each spell you cast, you wicked beast~. Lenachras are not meant to be cruel, and yet.... look at you~.
I know what the Unspeakable Monstrosity wants~. I serve them with my whole being, as do the others o7 my band~. My Black Hands... they reach out and spread the darkness, so that all may 7ind salvation in the dark~. You work against us, but with the same god~. You don’t know what you’re doing though, do you~? No, they would not privy you to such in7ormation~. You seek, unknowingly, to bring about their end~. The power they have given you is not meant to assist you~. Were your tomb not empty, I would spit upon it~.
Speaking of empty tombs... Drayco walks again, do they not~? My sweet sibling o7 darkened 7ingers... I miss them~. They were so close to impurity, be7ore you ruined it~. They could have been the one, Musrio Almawt~. They could have brought the Slaughtering Scapegrace to us~. They could have lead the divine revolution~.
How cruel o7 you, to hold them back~. To hide them away~. They have touched our god where I could never~. I want to 7eel my lord in Drayco’s hands~. Hm~. Could we not call a truce this night~? So I may bask in my sibling’s tainted grace once more~? We can meet where you sel7ishly took them away~. I want to know what you’ve both become~.
“See” you, or not~.
Never yours, through the hell7ire o7 the Apocalyptic Blight, The Blind Phoenix~.”
Bile rising in his throat, he turned and grabbed one of the smaller grimoire that was stacked next to him on his work table. He flipped it open, rifling urgently through the pages to find what he needed. Eventually, he came across the page he was looking for. He read it over, a cold sensation creeping over him as his eyes scanned the page:
Lenachra
A spirit who died a violent death with an incomplete task, or a great regret. The spirit refuses death and repossesses their own body- or another host- without ever knowing they left it. Their determination to finish their task fuels the body into working again; i.e, the heart beats and the lenachra needs to breathe. However, a lenachra cannot get sick, and their wounds close inexplicably fast.
In folklore, a lenachra becomes somewhat of a guardian, or a shepherd, to other lost souls. As they walk both life and death, other spirits will flock to them in hopes of assistance with crossing over or repentance. There are recorded cases of lenachras supposedly being able to speak to actual gods.
Many lenachras find a capability for magic that may not have been there in their first life. There are a handful of recorded incidents where lenachras find themselves drawn to jobs such as priesthood, sainthood, sorcery, and necromancy.
“Lenxchrx.” Musrio whispered, his voice trembling. His whole body was trembling, actually, and he leaned heavily on the table to hold himself up. He... he was undead. He was a corporeal spirit- how could he not know that?! How could he not sense it?!
Jerking straight up, he whipped around, grabbing his amulet again. He shouted, and shadows bled into being before him, regarding him with glowing eyes.
“Did you know?!” He demanded of the shadows, “Did you know what I xm?! Why would you not tell me!?” The spirits whispered to him, their voices overlapping a hundredfold in his mind. He clasped his hands over his ears. “Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! Begone!” He snarled. He stomped his foot, and with a shock wave of brilliant light, the shadows vanished.
Musrio crumbled to the floor, grasping at his own hair and clawing at his face. His claws caught on his skin, sending little bursts of stinging pain through his skin. “It hurts!” He shouted at no one, “It hurts, I cxn’t be dexd! I’m not dexd! I- I cxn’t... c- cxn’t...” His words turned to mush in his mouth as he hiccuped, before a sob burst from his voice box.
As he shut his eyes tightly, memories flooded unbidden through his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He felt like he was suffocating, like there were hands around his throat that were squeezing, squeezing, squeezing- bright bursts of light popped behind his eyes, like stars or fireworks. When he woke, everything was pain.
He couldn’t see anything but darkness. He couldn’t hear anything, the silence more deafening than a bullet train blaring by. It was terrifying, being void of sensation. He couldn’t even tell if he moved an arm or leg. All there was was pain and... nothingness. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t feel his tongue, his teeth, his lips- so he thought it instead.
"I need your help."
"And to what concern is that of ours?" A voice spoke from the darkness. Although it whispered, it nearly burst his eardrums. It was like a million voices, every voice that ever uttered a sound since the dawn of time, spoke in unison. They folded over each other, the sound rolling like the waves of an ocean as it needled into his ears and threatened to rip his sanity like paper.
"I wxnt to mxke x dexl."
"We do not deal with mortal worms."
"Then mxke me immortxl if thxt's whxt it'll txke for you to listen, dxmmit! I don't cxre, I wxnt your power!"
"... Our power?" He felt something shift in the air- water? space?- around him, and he got the sense he'd caught their attention.
"Yes. Give me power over life xnd dexth, over the dexd xnd living, over elements xnd nxture."
"What do you offer in return?"
"My body. My soul. Whxtever’s left. My plxce in the xfterlife. Use me xs x vessel. Xnd when I die, you get the rest of me. Ribbit."
".... Interesting. And you do this for the one that tore you apart. You would break yourself, burst from your old flesh like a cocoon, and become an entity that not even the simulacrum of mentality can rival, for the one that would never do the same for you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Whxt do you cxre for the whys?"
"We know and see all, but the minds of mortals are a buzzing chaos that we cannot touch without great distress to the host and to our wavering being. We know what will happen, but we do not know what meager thought will spark the tar that bubbles over your fates, scorching your presence from our conscious and from the clustering lights you cling to as signs of hope."
"You sure txlk x lot, with x bunch of fxncy words. Doesn't thxt get boring?"
"It is the way we are. We are everything and nothing, both at once and not at all. We are the minds of the dark remnants, the reaching, grasping claws of burned out stars, the hunger of black holes, and the singularity of being. Our belly is the night sky upon your home world, but we cannot be touched by your ships.
We are the thing that first crawled from the primordial ooze, and the last to ever leave, for we are still emerging. We are your cosmos and your universe, your very reality and fragility of mental capacity. We are the symphony that plays upon the arrival of meager gods, and the choir that sings them back to oblivion."
“Do we hxve x dexl or not?"
"You amuse us, Musrio Almawt. We have a deal. Your soul and flesh, for our power.” To hear his name uttered by the being was indescribable feeling; like a thousand fingers touched every inch of his nervous system, all at once. Like a weight was thrust into his gut, bursting him open from the inside until he was nothing but a mist of remains and blood. Like he simultaneously died in every way, both conceivable and not, only to be wrenched back into his skin by a pair of giant claws.
Pain, more agonizing than a gunshot, more than a bath in acid, suddenly shot through his body from the top of his head down to his toes. He felt his body- was it his body? Maybe it was his brain- contort, and then it felt like he had no body at all.
He looked down at his hands; they were black. Stars swirled in his palms. Whole galaxies danced and spun on his body. He breathed, just to see if he could. When he exhaled, stars spun from his breath and swirled around him. The stars and planets and everything on his skin seemed to slide off like water, joining the swirls around him. He could no longer tell between his body and the darkness of space. The universe around him spun faster and faster until it was a blaze of white that hurt his eyes, but he couldn't close them.
“Stop thxt!” He commanded in his head. The stars stilled, resuming their gentle spins. He reached out and touched one. It was warm, like cupping a mug of coffee. Everything inside him and around him felt… Right. He felt powerful, yet content and sleepy. His mind was filled with every whispered secret the universe held, yet it was beautifully blank as showers of stars raced behind his eyes. A clarity he could never achieve in his own skin had filled him.
"This is our gift to you. You have been washed in our blood, and so you become of us. Waste this gift not, for you are the harbinger of a story that must be told, and never forgotten."
"I'm whxt?"
"Goodbye, Musrio Almawt."
He was suddenly hurled through space and time, stretched and compressed, twisted and smoothed back into his skin, until he sat up with a cry. He looked around, to see his dead matesprit at his side. A shudder of revulsion went up his back; he’d killed them. They’d attacked, and he killed them. They would have killed you, his mind argued.
The smell of blood was thick in the air. He must have passed out after stabbing them, he tried to reason with his panicking thinkpan. He shakily got to his feet and stumbled away from the scene. He lurched for the door, before he ripped it open and took off into the sunrise, grief and shame overwhelming him and spurring him on. His amulet bounced against his chest; he was too blinded by the sunrise and tears to notice the eyes were glowing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mushy? Mushy!”
Musrio gasped, snapping back to the present as he felt Drayco’s arms envelop him. He pitched forward, clinging to his mate like a frightened wriggler.
“Mush, what- what happened? are yoou ookay? Are yoou hurt?” Drayco asked anxiously, but Musrio couldn’t speak past the tightness in his throat. He hiccuped and groaned, tightening his grip on them. Drayco, thankfully, understood. They clutched him close, petting the back of his head soothingly, like he was a child in need of consolation.
After several minutes, he managed to wrangle himself together enough to pull away. Drayco pulled back, gently cupping his face and wiping the red, wet stains from his cheek with their thumbs. Musrio reached up and clutched their hand, blinking rapidly. Drayco’s eyes searched his face, their brows creased with worry.
“What happened, Mush?” They whispered. Musrio opened his mouth, then shut it again, struggling to push the words off his tongue. After several attempts, he gave up and just pointed at the table. Drayco glanced at it, then released him, standing up. Musrio stayed where he was, slumped on his knees on the floor as Drayco gingerly stepped around him to look at the table. After a long, painful two minutes, he heard Drayco whisper, “Ooh.”
“D- D- Drxyco- I’m- I-” Musrio rasped, looking up as Drayco walked back around him and knelt before him. Drayco cupped his face gently, shooshing him softly and papping his cheek; a gross breach of their quadrantal status, but Musrio couldn’t care less. He needed the comfort now more than ever.
“Breathe, Mus.” They soothed. Musrio forced himself to take a deep, rattling breath.
“I... Drxyco, wh- whxt do I- whxt xm I- I- I thought-?” He asked brokenly, unsure what he was trying to say as he clutched his mate’s arm.
“Yoou’re Musrioo.” Drayco said firmly, their eyes boring into Musrio’s, “Yoou’re my matesprit. Yoou’re a necroomancer. Yoou’re a doork whoo likes froogs and pizza and bad moovies.”
“But I’m- I’m dexd. I died, Drayco!”
The bronzeblood raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “And? I died, toooo, Mush. Remember?” They grabbed their shirt collar and pulled it down, showing off the scar on their chest, before releasing it. “Noow looook at me. I’m back, I’m fine. ...Mostly. Yoou get used too it.” They smiled softly. Musrio paused, brought up short by that, before he giggled inexplicably.
“Oh, right.”
“We’re dead, booth oof us.” Drayco nodded.
“Yexh?”
Drayco pursed their lips, before they grinned. “Soo... I guess we’re in heaven, since I can’t imagine being anywhere else with yoou.” They said cheekily. Musrio actually laughed that time, slumping against their shoulder.
“That was even worse than your other joke.” He mumbled; but he did feel better, he admitted silently. Drayco laughed, too, pressing their mask to Musrio’s head in a mock kiss.
“Yoou’re welcoome.” They murmured. They held their mate a minute more, before they sighed. “Yoou ready too goo see him?”
Musrio tried to repress the sense of dread attempting to crawl up his spine.
“Yexh.”
........
Every instinct in Musrio was screaming at him to turn back. Every step he took was a struggle; his feet felt heavier each time he lifted them up. Still, he made his way forward with Drayco at his side, until, at last, they stood before their old hive.
The hive he’d bought with Drayco just after their engagement, a cozy little den, all their own, on the edge of the city. Musrio could recall being so excited about it, delighted to have a place, an escape, away from the rest of the world. But now, as he stared at it, all he felt was hard, heavy apprehension.
The lawn was overgrown, covered in choking weeds and sprawling brambles. The roof was caving in, and the front windows were busted. Graffiti covered the wall, above the rotting porch. The door was hanging on by a single hinge, creaking softly in the breeze as it hung open like a broken jaw, revealing a dark interior.
“... Are you here, Phooenix?” Drayco finally called.
A lilting, merry laugh rang out from inside the hive. “Oh, yes, my sweet sibling~. I am here~.” A voice answered. A tapping sound, and a troll emerged from the dark, gracefully and carefully stepping over the rotten boards in the porch, guided by the ivory cane they wielded. They descended the steps carefully and stood before them as they turned their head in the direction of the other two. “No need to call me such a 7ormal title, Drayco A7asia~. You are one of mine~. You may call me by my real name~.” They hummed, before sighing wistfully. “It’s been too long since I beheld your presence~.”
Drayco growled lowly in their throat. “Noot loong enoough...
Oliver Maddel.”
Oliver arched an eyebrow. “Oh, indeed~?” He murmured, his fingers drumming on the top of his cane, before he laughed. He turned his head in Musrio’s direction. “Hello again, lenachra~. The last time you stood before me-”
“Drxyco hxd just died, xnd you were trying to get me to join your little squxd.” Musrio spat, “I remember. Ribbit.”
Oliver chuckled. “Indeed~.” She repeated, rubbing her thumb over the head of her cane; it was shaped like a bird with its wings spread, and her thumb was rubbing the beak.
“Why did yoou call us here, Ooliver? What doo yoou want?” Drayco asked, narrowing their eyes warily.
“Can I not call on an old 7riend~? Can I not greet my sibling as I’ve done be7ore~? I only wanted to remind you o7 who you belong to~.” Oliver cooed, smiling in their direction.
“I doon’t beloong too yoou, oor anyoone!” Drayco snapped, “I’m noot yoour sibling! Noot anymoore!”
Oliver laughed again. “Oh, my sweet, sweet Drayco... you do belong to someone~. All three o7 us are bound to the same god.” She stepped forward, her smile widening with glee.
“Neviserrath Apocriyna~.” He whispered, letting the name hang heavy in the air, “The god that binds the three o7 us~. Truly, they do not love you, or you would know their name~. They gave all three o7 us our powers, so that we may be the opposing sides in a divine war~.”
“There is no wxr, Oliver. I xm not plxying your little gxme. I-” Musrio began, before Oliver shook his head, tisking.
“Oh no no no no, my dear, sweet, stupid lenachra~. It is not my game you play~. When you accepted the powers our god gave you, you added your piece to the board, joining a game I was already winning~. Your powers are but a meager, weaker copy of my own~. This game is rigged in my 7avor, Almawt~.”
Musrio narrowed his eyes. “Whxt hxve you done with your powers, other thxn fuck up people’s lives xnd ruin literxlly everything? Ribbit?” He hissed.
Oliver’s smile, somehow, got bigger. “I made someone a gi7t~!” He cried, “I brought back someone very, very special~. Oh, yes, my little spirit, you’re not the only one who can do that~.” She added, laughing. “I didn’t think it would go so well, since it was my 7irst time~. I’ve been much too busy, juggling my stardom, career, and my Black Hand, but I 7ound the time to do it.~”
“Soo... whoo did yoou bring back?” Drayco asked, suddenly worried they were heading into round two with their ancestor, Forsaken. Their grip tightened on Musrio’s hand, and Musrio could see them beginning to tremble.
“Who else~? My own ancestor, o7 course~! Oh, he’s a hardened man, who doesn’t care 7or me, but that’s fine~. The Deadscar Wanderer has another person who is much, much more important to him~. I gave him the directions, and o77 he went~!” He shook his head, before turning it towards Drayco, “Ah, but that does not matter now~. I wanted to see you again, my sweet sibling, and ask if you would not come back to me~? Your brothers and sisters of the dark miss you~.”
Drayco’s throat rumbled with a growl again. “Fuck noo. I’m never cooming back too yoou, Ooliver, noot even if my life was oon the line. I’m doone with yoou, with the cult, and with your “Good.”” They turned away, “Yoou wanted too be “in my presence”, and yoou have been. I’m gooing hoome.”
They released Musrio’s hand and spun on their heel, marching away. Musrio was relieved Oliver was blind, so they couldn’t see how badly Drayco was shaking; they’d reached their limit of being near the oliveblood. He turned to follow, completely fine with not saying a courteous goodbye, before he glanced back to Oliver, who’d turned their head in his direction.
“Who... did you send him to?” Musrio asked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Innocent looked up from his book, surprised by the sound of a knock on the front door. He glanced around; he was alone at the hive tonight. Incoding was on a date with Decaying, and Ruthless had gone to visit Survivor.
Apprehensive, he set the book to the side and pulled his mask up, quietly moving to the door. He paused, listening, but heard nothing on the other side. After a moment, there was another polite, brief knock. Innocent hesitated, before he unlocked the several bolts and latches and opened the door.
He froze stiff at the sight of the troll before him.
“I... Ishran...?” He whispered, barely daring to believe this was real.
“o|==> Nice to see you, too, Amadri. You’ve grown.” Ishran rumbled.
Innocent felt a tremor rock up his spine from hearing his own name. “... How are you... where... how did this...?” He stammered, pulling his mask down again. Ishran shrugged.
“o|==> I do not question it. My descendant says he did it. I only cared to find you again. ... May I come in?” Although his face was expressionless, the limeblood knew that was the equivalent of the oliveblood throwing his arms around him and gleefully announcing he’d missed him.
“Wh- oh, yes, of course, please!” Innocent- Amadri- said quickly, flustered, pulling the door open wider and waving the other man in.
The Deadscar Wanderer stepped into the small hive and looked around, although his expression gave away nothing of what he was thinking. He spotted a photo on the bookshelf, of Amadri and his morails.
He stared at it, as Amadri stared at him. The man who’d protected him since a grub, who looked over him until he was six sweeps old, who died protecting him after they’d been separated, whose final letters were still tucked at the bottom of his quiver... was standing in his living room. He’d resigned himself to the fate of never seeing his pseudo-lusus again, his thinkpan was having a hard time grasping that he was back.
“o|==> Seems we have a lot to catch up on.” Ishran said at last, making Amadri jump as he turned to him, “When do I get to meet the family?”
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EVERYONE PLEASE WELCOME OLIVER AND ISHRAN MADDEL!!!
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