Chapter Text
The halls of the Order were never quiet.
Even in the hours between ceremonies, when candles burned low and the chanting had faded into whispers, the air still felt heavy, thick with malice, and high expectations. Every member of the Order walked with a purpose.
Except Avery. Avery was supposed to be in class…Three hours ago.
Technically, he was supposed to be in a lot of places. He currently wasn’t at the prayer hall, scripture studies, or meditation chamber three—but instead, he was sitting on the outer wall of the temple with his legs dangling over the edge, trying to create a flower crown out of the little yellow dandelions he’d found growing between the stones. The Order didn’t approve of improvisation, and Avery was well aware of that. Abel, the previous vessel, and now Avery’s teacher had made that very clear. The vessel must remain disciplined. The vessel must remain pure. The vessel must remain prepared.
Avery sat there, the now finished flower crown tilted crookedly in his hair like a joke he refused to explain, as he always did because he thought that was funny. He watched the clouds drift past the distant mountains and pretended he couldn't hear the echoes of bells calling him back.
Just then, footsteps approached.
Footsteps that clinked and clacked that were precise, measured, and with a heavy armor. Avery didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
“You’re late,” the voice behind him said. Avery smiled faintly. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The knight stopped beside him, golden cloak catching the wind like a banner. His helmet hid most of his expression, but the single visible dark eye betrayed his exhaustion. Tarim, Avery’s overseer, had given him an impossible task. Guard the vessel. Guide the vessel. Correct the vessel. But how can one do that when the vessel refuses to cooperate completely???
“You’re skipping again,” Derlord said sternly. Avery, still staring up at the sky as if he was waiting for it to carry him away sighed, “I prefer the term strategically absent.”
“That wasn't a joke.”
“It wasn't supposed to be funny.”
The air quickly grew thick around them, and Derlord leaned over, placing his arms on the ledge that Avery is sitting on. “You were assigned three sessions today”.
“Four, actually” Avery corrected. “You forgot the one where they stare at me in silence for an hour.”
A small scoff came from his mouth. “That’s called observation.”
“That's called being weird.”
The knight crossed his arms, gold shoulder plates catching the light, he exhaled slowly through the narrow slit in his helm. “That was mandatory.”
“So is breathing,” Avery replied. “Yet somehow I'm still doing it wrong.” An even louder sigh came from the knight, “You don't understand what you are.”
“I do,” Avery said softly, gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Thats the problem.”
“You know why this matters." Derlord said as Avery finally looked over his shoulder. “Because apparently the fate of reality depends on whether I sit still long enough,” Avery complained, his slimy green hair complimenting the yellow flower crown that rested upon his head. “You say that like it's optional,” Derlord said, glancing at the yellow flowers for a bit before looking away.
“Feels optional," Avery muttered under his breath.
“It isn’t.” Derlord shifted in his place.
Up close, the armor looked heavier than usual, like Derlord had been wearing it all day without rest. “You don't actually like this job, do you?” Avery asked.
“My feelings are irreleva–” The bells rang again in the distance. Down below, members of The Order gathered in careful rows, black robes forming patterns like ink soaking into parchment, a reminder for Avery to continue his duties. Every movement was obviously rehearsed, every word pre-approved. Everything except Avery. Abel believed structure created devotion, Avery believed devotion should not feel like a cage.
“You are meant to protect the world,” Derlord said, his voice a bit quieter, his voice always seemed quiet actually. “To accommodate ‘Him’.”
Avery tilted his head. “The King?”
Even speaking the title seemed to make the wind hesitate to blow. “They say I'm supposed to welcome ‘Him’”, Avery continued lightly, looking up at the man beside him, trying to figure out if there were any other facial features on him that weren't just his single visible eye. “They say I should feel honored,”
“You should.” Derlord said automatically.
Avery giggled hoarsely. “You sound like the book.”
Silence stretched between them once more, as it always did, making things awkward again when it was just getting good. Finally, the knight spoke again. “You can't keep running.”
Avery slid off of the wall and landed lightly on the stone floor.
“Watch me.”
He brushed past Derlord, shoulder grazing gold plated armor. For a moment, neither moved. Then—
“You know I have to report this,” the knight reminded in a melancholy tone.
Avery paused. “I know you won’t,”
Slowly, Derlord turned his head. “How can you be so certain?”
Avery looked back over his shoulder, expression unreadable but Derlord knew it was definitely something devious.
“Because if I’m really the vessel…” he said quietly, matching the knight's tone. “Then you’re the one assigned to keep me safe.”
The implication hung heavy in the air. Tarim had warned him this would happen sooner or later. The vessel tends to resist. The vessel tends to question. The vessel tends to try escaping responsibility. The vessel tends to be difficult. But Tarim hadn't mentioned the vessel would be this difficult.
_________________
Later, in the training courtyard, Avery was handed a ceremonial blade. He was supposed to learn discipline. Focus. Control. Instead, he spun the weapon around clumsily, nearly dropping it twice before catching it with a sly grin.
Across the yard, Derlord watched carefully. “You hold it like it's harmless,” He said his voice louder this time, making sure he gets his message across.
“Isnt it?” The blade sparked briefly as it struck the stone underneath them both. A flash of yellow flickered along its edge, unnatural against the muted tones of the courtyard. The crowd murmured. They weren't staring at him like he was a student. They were staring at him like he was a container. Or a problem.
“Is this guy seriously the vessel I have to protect?” The knight cut through the silence. He murmured under his breath, but loud enough for others to hear.
”Tch, rude.” Avery rolled his eyes, he didn't know what it was but in a way he felt as though Derlord was trying to make him feel better by joking with him…well his way of joking. Though something in his voice sounded less like sarcasm and doubt… and more like concern.
Maybe he's thinking of the gap in the book or, well books. The book never mentions one important detail: What happens when the vessel refuses to become a vessel?
________________
That night, long after the others had gone to take rest in their own abodes, Avery sat cross-legged on the cold wooden floor of ‘The Archive’. Old pages surrounded him, records of previous vessels, old failures, old endings. None of which had ended well. Just then, a shadow fell across the doorway. “You missed evening prayer.” Derlord announced.
Avery didn't look up, “Tell Abel I said hello.” The knight stepped closer. “You joke about everything,”
“It keeps people uncomfortable.”
“What..? Why?”
Avery averted his gaze from the golden knight. “Because uncomfortable people stop asking questions.”
Another silence.
“You’re afraid.”
Avery smiled faintly, “Of course I am.” he admitted, the words barely even managed to escape his throat, he closed the book gently. Placing it back into its respected position, before bringing his knees up to his chin, embracing his calves.
“They don't want a person,” he whispered. “They want a doorway.”
The candlelight flickered gently. The clatter of armor filled the room as Derlord kneeled down in front of Avery, and for the first time Derlord removed his helmet. His expression was sharper than Avery expected but held a tired tint in them, younger too. He was tanner than Avery was, which was expected from a knight.
“You’re going to get caught, you’re not supposed to be here.” Derlord said begrudgingly.
"You're literally the reason I haven't…yet.”
“You assume too much”
“You haven't reported me once.”
”…”
A short silence fell between them once again. Avery offered space for Derlord to sit next to him, which Derlord took, silently sitting next to him.
“You don't trust them either, do you?” Avery said with a sly look on his face.
“Thats none of your concern.”
“That is absolutely my concern.”
Derlord looked away, his eyebrows twitching, he seemed to be contemplating about something, but returned his gaze back to the boy he sat next to.
“You won't face this alone.” The knight matched Avery's tone. It seemed as though they both were studying each other's faces. As Derlord squinted a bit, Avery wondered in his mind if he had bad eyesight or if he was judging him.
“You’re very bad at babysitting.” Avery mumbled.
“Im not babysitting you,”
“You followed me through three locked corridors.”
“......Strategy.”
Avery laughed softly, his hand covering a bit of his mouth. Suddenly, almost as if something had came over Avery, he looked at Derlord with a serious look on his face. He quickly got up to his feet, which forced the other to step back a bit in confusion.
“If I run… will you stop me?”
Derlord didn't answer. Usually he’d have an answer immediately. Duty demanded yes. Something else demanded hesitation.
“If you run,” The knight said slowly. “I will make sure nothing follows you.”
For the first time that day, Avery seemed and looked uncertain.
“Even ‘Him’?”
The candle flame bent tidily sideways, though no wind entered the room. Derlord’s jaw tightened as he stared down at Avery with a just as uncertain look on his face.
“Even ‘Him’.”
Somewhere deep beneath the temple, something shifted. Something that did not belong to any world that should not exist.
And for the first time—
The vessel did not feel entirely alone.