From then on, the days slipped past like dreams clamped between shadows and sunlight. Eli would wake each morning in a kind of warmth that was more than just from blankets or the fire's glow—it arose from the echo of Amon's touch trailing from the warmth of his mouth, with the pressure of his body perfectly dissolved into Eli's form. Each breath Eli now took still recalled that night.
But there was something about him that had changed.
Amon, he was different.
Still, he came to him, still, he kissed him in silence and sat at a quiet feast with him, but the red of his gaze flickered more than glowed. His body was still strong, but that strength now seemed to be borrowed, like he had lent too much of himself and was fading one heartbeat at a time.
That night the rain fell again with a gentle patter. Eli woke suddenly.
He had been dreaming—or was he?—of voices.
Soft, urgent whispers—words in a language he did not understand but somehow comprehended. Names he had never known. Places forgotten to time.
And in the centre of all these… Amon's name, muttered under his breath like a curse.
Eli was now sitting, his chest damp with sweat, the room cold in spite of the dim fire in the hearth. The whispers had not stopped. They still hung there—spiralling like smoke around the periphery of his mind.
He stumbled out of bed, threw on his cloak, and headed for the barn.
The wind was still. Too still. Everything felt like it was suspended in time.
The barn door creaked open, and the scent of ash came billowing out. Inside, an atmosphere laden with the pulse of primordial tremors awaited. Amon was kneeling in the middle of the floor, head bent low, naked and trembling as if caught by the grip of something invisible.
His mouth stirred in unison with the tremors of the shadows.
"Amon?" Eli moved closer. "What's happening?"
Amon stayed silent.
Eli dropped to his knees beside him and extended his hand—but Amon's shoulder hardly felt his fingers before a wave of heat slammed into and back away from him. It was not a burn, more some pressure like a hundred thousand screaming voices in hellish silence all at once.
And suddenly Amon's eyes opened.
Not red.
Not gold.
Black. Infinite.
The whispers erupted into clarity then, filling Eli's ears:
"He is broken. He is ours. He shall not love. He shall not feel."
Eli clasped his head. "Stop—Please!"
Amon gasped, drawing him into the grounding hold with fingers gripping Eli's arms, and murmured, "You weren't supposed to hear them. I gave you my spark, but the cost is beginning..."
"What cost?" Eli blinked through his dizziness.
Amon trembled in his momentary silence. "My soul is tethered to both realms—Heaven and Hell. They sense it now. My bond with you awakened parts of me that were sealed. They don't want me to be… whole."
Eli stared at him. "Because of me?"
"Because of love."
Eli placed his palm on Amon's cheek. "Then fight them."
Amon leaned into his hand as though he was starving. "I can't fight them alone."
"You're not alone."
Amon shut his eyes and the room exhaled. The shadows retreated into the walls. The warmth ebbed.
"Something is coming, Eli," he whispered. "And it will test every word we've said. Every vow we made."
"I'm not afraid."
"You should be."
Eli gently kissed him. "I was afraid before you came. Now I'm alive."
Amon's lips shook. "You remind me of someone I once knew."
Eli pulled back. "Someone you loved?"
Amon nodded. "He died protecting me. And for that... I burned."
Silence settled between them with an unbearable weight.
"Then let me live protecting you," Eli sentenced softly.
Awe-inspiring and enervated, Amon smiled. "You would risk everything for me?"
"I already did."
That night Eli couldn't sleep again.
He lay on his bed as questions pounded in his heart, with longing and pressure from truths yet unknown. The whispering had indeed ceased, but something was still lingering in the air—which definitely was a presentiment, a gaze from some unseen realms.
Eventually, when he slipped into a slumber, the dreams found him again.
A garden glowed under silvery moons; winged beings danced in silence. Fire rained down from above, war etched across the sky. Amon—radiant, crowned, unscarred—flew through the heavens.
And then a boy.
Himself.
Smiling. Running. Reaching for the winged figure with tears glimmering in his eyes.
"You're not ready," the voice whispered through his dream.
"But soon you will remember everything."
Eli sat bolt upright, panting, tears catching on his lashes.
He did not understand what was going on.
But one thing he knew.
It was no longer just about a fallen angel and a lonely man.
Something else, something older, was starting to stir.
And love—real, painful, soul-splitting love—was just the beginning.