“Even if I have to die for you,” Arylos promised as he closed his eyes, feeling the alluring pull of sleep. Within a few short moments, he could feel no sensation save for the warmth of Iris’s hand in his own, the feel of her own pulse.

He meant what he promised; he truly felt that if something were to happen, it would be better if it were him. He had seen enough pain and heartache and he had lived long enough. As he lost all sensation of the world around him, he assured himself that this is what he wanted. What more could make him happy? An eternal being like him has no death, no reason to persist except for his own will.

Yet all of this gave him purpose; a reason to see tomorrow. Something he had never experienced before. He had a reason to fight, a reason to die, a reason to live. Was this even about his promise to Iris’s father anymore? Or was this all about Arylos fulfilling a promise to himself?

Arylos found himself lost in his own thoughts, adrift in a dreamless black void, the only reminder of where he is being the faint warmth in his hand. He thought about when he met Iris, how she was rightly afraid of him, yet he remembered something different in her eyes. Curiosity? He knew she was afraid, yet she did not scream; she only asked questions.

Soon, the faint warmth he felt in his hand faded away. He instinctively tried to tighten his grip, but could feel nothing; he could no longer feel his body. A part of him panicked, like when he blacked out in Torasu. This body was wearing out and if it gave out, he would not be able to experience this again. That warmth would be beyond his reach and he may never feel it again.

He may not be able to return within Iris’s lifetime.

The thought scared him, that one wrong move and this waking dream he had the chance to experience would be over. One mistake in a fight and this world would be beyond his reach again. One slow movement and he would be trapped behind a wall, unable to experience this beauty again. He wanted to call out, he wanted to scream, to fight against the sinking anxiety of loneliness again.

Even if he would have to die for her, he would never experience that cold again.

He felt sunlight on his face, warming his skin and slowly bringing him back to reality. Even with this warmth, his hand still felt cold. His hand twitched as he tightened it, but could no longer feel her.

He groaned as he opened his eyes, blinded by the bright light. He relied on his other senses, smelling his own dirt covered body joined with two other scents he could barely recognise along with the bitter scent of chocolate.

His eyes finally focused and he could see Iris right in front of his face, red and puffy eyes and a frown on her face. He knew she had been crying and he felt hurt with that knowledge.

“You didn’t try to write on my face, did you?” Arylos asked in a dry voice, trying to cheer her up.

Iris puffed up her face and, to Arylos’s surprise, buried her face in his chest. “I will if you do that again,” she whispered softly.

“You had her really worried there, Arylos,” Bellona cut in and rubbed Iris’s back. “I know you’re not good at reading emotion, but try not to play with a girl’s heart like that, okay?”

Arylos sighed and gave Iris a gentle hug. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he told her while sitting up. “I’m alright now, I promise.”

Iris let go of Arylos and rubbed her eyes while nodding slowly. She then turned and grabbed a mug of a hot liquid and handed it to Arylos. “I’ll only forgive you if you drink this,” she instructed.

Arylos took the mug and inhaled the chocolate aroma. “Hot chocolate?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had any.”

Iris nodded and got off of Arylos and remained seated next to him. “Yeah, Bellona brought some chocolate over and showed me how to make it.”

“Thank you,” Arylos responded with a smile and took a drink, feeling the drink and the kind gesture warm his core.

“Are you feeling any better?” Bellona asked while taking a drink from her own cup.

Arylos lowered his cup and took stock of his condition. He tapped his fingers together, checking nerve response. He then stretched his hands and his limbs, feeling the muscles and joints and the condition of his tendons while cracking his neck, feeling the discs pop and move. He then closed his eyes and took mental notes of his organs, checking for damage, bruises, bleeding, anything that felt unnatural to him.

“Everything is mostly in order,” he summarised while opening his eyes. “I still have some cracked lower ribs and my muscles are sore and my arm hasn't fully healed. It will likely be a week or so before all of the damage heals and I’ll be back to normal.”

“This isn’t like you, Arylos,” Bellona answered with heavy concern.

“She’s right,” Iris followed up. “In Torasu, you took a wooden post through the chest and it took you only a couple of minutes to get back up.”

Arylos sighed and bowed his head. “I told you; this body is failing. I’ve likely just pushed it beyond its limits, that’s all.”

“And what about when your body does fail?” Iris asked, trying to contain her frustration.

“It’s not like I’ll die,” Arylos answered in an attempt to ease her concern while also masking his own concern. “It will be inconvenient, that’s all. I just can’t interact with this world until I can find a new vessel. It’s not like we can never see each other again.”

He ended his statement with a smile for Iris but she could see past it; he was hiding something, lying, but she didn’t feel right for calling him out on it. Not now at least.

“It’s still concerning, Arylos,” Bellona commented with a deep sigh. “You really should lay low and get your strength back. And since Odin is willing to send Baldr after you, who knows if you really can.”

Arylos gave the same smile he gave to Iris to Bellona. “Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine. I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

Bellona furrowed her brow to which Arylos all but ignored as he turned his attention to Iris. “I plan to take a bath soon. If I were you, I would go on ahead first.”

Iris shook her head in response. “I’ll cook something so you go on ahead; you need it more than I do.”

Arylos smiled and slowly stood up, the sounds of his joints cracking filling the air as he slowly made his way to the stairwell with Bellona following behind to make sure he didn’t fall as Iris went to the kitchen.

“Arylos, take this seriously,” Bellona spoke softly, trying to not be heard by Iris. “Baldr is after you and your body doesn’t look like it can take another encounter like that. Since you let him go, what’s to say Baldr won’t come right back here to finish the job?”

Arylos stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall, taking a heavy breath. “I take it Iris was crying while I was asleep,” he asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

“She was, and that won’t change if this goes on,” Bellona commented.

Arylos rubbed his eyes as he tried to formulate his response. “She had not been crying since we came back from Khoras, and she had not cried for months before then. She’s crying on my behalf, Bellona, because of me.

“She was crying because you were hurt,” Bellona cut in.

“That’s my point; she was crying because I was hurt trying to defend us,” Arylos spat back, anger in his voice. “Each time she cries, it hurts. But the only reason she wasn’t crying before was because we had no such need to fight. The reason she does not worry about my physical state constantly is because she does. not. know about it”

Bellona followed what he was saying. “But you can’t just pretend nothing’s wrong. Something bad will happen eventually.”

Arylos opened the bathroom door and stood in silence before responding. “Something bad will happen, I know; it would be foolish to deny that. But grant her this brief time of peace and happiness, if not for my sake. She may not have it for long.”

Arylos had enough and closed the door behind him, cutting off any further rebuttal from Bellona. He only leaned against the door and let out a deep sigh, trying to shake off this stress. The worst part was that every word Bellona said was true and he was only lying to Iris. Yet he couldn’t just let Iris know that. He couldn’t bear seeing her cry on his behalf anymore.

She has gone through enough, so the least he can do is give her some happiness, even if it’s brief.

Even if he had to die for her.

He lifted himself away from the door and began sliding his armour off, feeling the caked mud and blood sticking to his skin. He looked over to the mirror and examined his broken and bruised body, covered in scabs with some still leaking blood along with his old scars and tattoos.

He lifted his right arm and found that one of the bones in his forearm was cracked and his elbow could bend farther the other way than it should. The arm was definitely still damaged and still required more time to heal. A part of Arylos considered cutting the arm off so he could grow a new one from scratch.

Arylos resigned himself to leaving it alone with a heavy sigh as he turned a knob and steaming hot water poured from an overhead faucet in a small shower. The water stung against his cuts as it washed away the dried blood, turning the water black and red. He could only stand under the torrent of water and consider the whole situation.

He knew what was going on. He knew he didn’t have much time left. But he didn’t know just how much time was left. How much longer before he fades away and can no longer interact with this world? How much longer after that until he can come back? The realisation hit him hard; the realisation that he was on borrowed time and he had no one to blame but himself. He finally got what he wanted, and the signs were pointing to it being taken away from him. Each attempt to ruin this beautiful opportunity with each battle, each invasion, each tip of the scales was just a reminder that he doesn’t belong, and will never belong.

Arylos could only fall to his knees under the weight of the water, choking back tears that stung his eyes and clogged his throat. Now matter how much Iris accepted him, he would never belong here. He will live and die just like the rest of his kind; alone, afraid, angry, and wanting something he could never have. He could no longer lie to himself as he broke down, feeling the walls closing in around him and his chest go tight. Fighting back the intense gravity by weakly slamming his fist against the shower wall was all he could do.

When he regained control of himself, the water on the shower floor ran clear and clean of mud and blood and was cold to the touch and his fingers were pruny. He realised he had been in here the whole time letting out all of these emotions and wasn’t even aware of how much time had passed, forgetting to even go into the tub. This moment of weakness is unlike him and he could only feel shame and embarrassment. He was better than this.

He shook his head and pulled at his hair, trying to tell himself to get a grip. To take these emotions and hold onto them and never let them go. He could not lose control like this again. He could not let Iris see him like this.

Arylos washed his face with the water and admitted that he was satisfied with just the shower. He turned off the water and returned back towards the mirror, staring at his still bruised body and red eyes, now bloodshot with puffy bags. While he was clean, he looked worse than before to his eyes.

He looked, and felt, weak.

Without thinking, he clenched his fist and punched himself straight in the jaw with a thunderous thud. The pain set in and he could feel his emotional tears shrink away. To him, taking physical pain was better and sweeter than this emotional pain. This was how he wanted to handle this; this was how he would cope.

He straightened himself and wrapped himself up in his robe and made his way outside and back downstairs, feeling the cold air bite his warm skin. When he entered the living area, he saw a small bowl of soup with more hot chocolate laying on the torotsu and fresh flames burning in the fireplace. Iris came out of the dining area with her own bowl and set it down on the torotsu as well.

“Took you long enough,” Iris teased with a smile. “I was worried this would all be cold by the time you came down.”

Arylos could only stare at Iris, dumbfounded, as he examined her. Mentally measuring and memorising the details of her as if this was the last time he would see her. He admired her smile, her loosened brown hair, her double jointed index finger on her left hand, the dimples of her cheeks, the position and colour of her eyes.

He committed all of it to memory like a fine painting, taking in the experience in its entirety including her voice and mannerisms, the sound of the fire and the smell of the soup broth and chocolate.

As if guided by some force he didn’t know, he gave Iris a tight hug, adding more details to the memory; the feel of her skin and the smell of her hair. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he wanted as much as he could.

“Uh, Arylos, are you okay?” she asked in a concerned voice.

“Shut up,” Arylos responded, trying to contain new tears before he would be forced to punch them away. “Just let me have this moment.”

In that moment, he had found another way to cope