The fraternal embrace and reunion goes on long enough I start to feel like a third wheel. I gather that the newcomer is Damien's brother-in-arms rather than an actual sibling, and that they haven't seen one another since the end of the uprising.

Finally, Damien remembers I exist and makes introductions.

"Alex, this is Oran." The excitement in Damien's voice gives it an almost vibrato-like quality. He pulls me forward and I extend my hand in the direction of the vague shape before me.

I'm not sure how formal I'm expected to be, so I keep it simple. "Hi, I'm Alex."

A large, strong grasp engulfs my hand and squeezes it a little too hard. "Ah yes, and you are...?"

"Formerly mortal, currently demonic," I supply, offering a grin in his general direction. "I'm a dream-eater, to be precise."

He releases my hand abruptly, and I get the feeling he might be surreptitiously wiping his palm on the back of his clothes.

"Ah. Well...A pleasure meet you, I'm sure. Dantalian always enjoyed...interesting company."

Uh-huh.

If Damien picks up on the shade being thrown my way, he chooses to ignore it.

"Alex, Oran was our great captain," he says, sounding like a soccer fan trying to explain Lionel Messi to a philistine. "Our General. His military brilliance is legendary."

"Don't oversell it, Dantalian," Oran says. "We lost, remember?"

I sense Damien go tense at my side. His voice is a little tight as he replies, "How could I forget? And my name is Damien now. Dantalian is dead."

"Damien? A bit plebeian for one of the Great among the Fallen, don't you think? Still," Oran sighs, "I do understand, and I will honor your wish."

Damien relaxes, and I imagine I can almost hear his smile. "Thank you, old friend."

"Well," Oran goes on, "Deberon tells me you've actually found--" He switches to a whisper, though it isn't much quieter than his speaking voice. "He says you've found the Key. Is it true? Has Sakariel returned? He's not here, is he? Honestly, who among this lot could possibly carry Celestial essence?"

The last bit was spoken with a note of contempt and derision that makes me think he's in for a shock.

Damien seems not to notice and drops the bomb with happy abandon. "Oran, Alex is the Key."

There's a moment of silence in which I imagine Oran's estimation of me goes through an uncomfortable and abrupt period of readjustment.

"Is he...?" Oran is clearly asking for something more than just confirmation.

"No," Damien says quickly. "Alex is... When Sakariel--" I hear his breath catch, and I feel a pang of sympathy for him. Trying to explain this must suck.

"I'm not Sakariel, if that's what you're asking," I say. "Apparently, his soul was kinda destroyed by whatever that Azael guy did to him. I just got stuck with a piece of it somehow. Lucky me."

I know I sound like an asshole, but for some reason I've taken an instant dislike to this Oran dude, and he's clearly disinclined to like me.

"A...piece of it?" he repeats, sounding as appalled as if I'd just admitted I kicked puppies for fun.

"Yeah," I shrug. "I've got the Frankenstein's monster of souls."

I hear Damien suppress either a choke or a laugh.

"Dantal--" Oran stops himself. "Damien. Surely this...person...cannot be the Key. You must be mistaken."

When Damien speaks, I'm somewhat gratified to hear the offense in his tone. "Alex is the Key," he says. "I've made sure of it. Do you really think I'd say so if I wasn't absolutely certain?"

"Well..." The discomfort and hesitance in Oran's voice speak of his own pain. "I know you... And under the circumstances, I understand the need for hope..."

Damien's voice is harsh and raw as flesh against pavement when he replies. "There is no mistake, Oran. Alex bears a fragment of the Key. I don't pretend to know how or why. I only know it's true."

Oran takes the hint and backs off. "Of course. Even a piece of the Key is cause for celebration. Alex," he addresses me, "I'm very happy to make your acquaintance. I look forward to getting to know you...more intimately."

My shadowy vision indicates he bows in my direction, and I do the same towards him. "Likewise, General Oran," I say, playing along for Damien's sake.

"If you'll excuse me," Oran says. "I have a speech to give."

He leaves us, and the interminable mingling continues; but from that point on, I notice that Damien's hand never quite leaves my arm.

~xxx~

The party drags on for another eon or so, but like all things must, it eventually comes to an end.

In our chambers, Damien helps me to bathe and change. I've gotten pretty good at navigating familiar spaces without sight, but I'm tired enough not to mind his hovering.

As he guides me to the bed and pulls the blankets back for me, I risk the proposition that's been on my mind all evening.

"Damien...I need a dream," I say, catching his hand. "Will you stay?"

I see his shape looming over me, like some dark angel.

"Are you sure? I thought my dreams were too much."

They are, but they're also familiar and available. Which, I realize, are two reasons that underlie a lot of poor choices, but I make this one anyway.

"I'm sure," I say, going for levity but sounding a little desperate. "And hey, you don't even have to pay me."

He settles beside me on the bed and takes my hand. "My dreams haven't been as bad since my memory returned," he says. "I think you've seen the worst already."

"Great. Maybe you'll dream about something mundane, like snakes, or falling."

I'm not counting on it, but hope springs eternal.

~xxx~

This time, the dream is from Damien's perspective.

He/I stand on a ledge over a precipice. The sky roils with orange clouds, and the landscape looks like a mountainous region of Mars. I get the sense this is one of the lower realms.

Beside me stands a man I love, and who I know I'm going to lose. He's tall, and fair, and beautiful. He looks like he's lit from within by his own star, and the light of it shines from his eyes with gentle warmth.

He's dressed for battle, but carries no weapon.

"Sakariel, is there nothing I can do to dissuade you? Nothing I can say to make you change your mind?" I ask. I feel like I'd let worlds burn if it meant I could protect him.

He shakes his head and gives me a sad smile. "No, 'Talian. The time is now. All things have their season, and mine nears an end. I will make this attempt, and whether it succeeds or fails, it shall be my last."

His words weigh on my heart like stones. "I wish we had more time," I say, feeling it slip through my grasp even as I speak.

He takes my hand. "As do I," he sighs. "'Talian, whatever happens, know that if my life were my own to give, it would belong to you."

He steps back, and I see that he holds a silver horn in his hand. Raising it to his lips, he sounds a long clear note and I feel it pierce me like a spear. The end has begun.

The dream shifts.

I stand on the top of a high tower. The sound of battle rises from below. Fear catches at my heart, and I draw the long blade I wear at my hip, ready to fight. Sakariel is at my back, grief in the lines of his face and the slope of his shoulders.

Oran is there as well. "They've breached the lower levels," he tell us. "Sakariel--Azael's assassins did not gain entry without aid from within. We've been betrayed."

He slumps against the wall. "Then it is over."

"You must escape," Oran says urgently. "Dantalian, take him and go. I will hold them off."

"I am no coward, Oran," Sakariel says. "I will not flee and leave my people to suffer in my stead."

"Damn it, Sakariel! If you won't think of yourself, then think of me!" I shout. "I won't leave without you. Either we go together, or we die together here."

I see his hesitation, and for a moment I'm not sure which he'll choose. Finally he nods and reaches for my hand.

There's nothing like hope in his eyes, but there is love.

"Very well, 'Talian. Whatever of my life is left, it's all yours."

Oran yells at us to go. I hold Sakariel in my arms and, heart shivering with hope and fear, let the fire of the Fallen take us away.

~xxx~

I wake up with a racing heart, but Damien was right. Compared to his other dreams, that one wasn't so bad. I feel stressed out and depressed, but my energy is restored.

I blink a few times, but my sight is no better than it was. Damien's hand is still in mine, and he's still asleep.

Sitting up, I consider his shadowy outline with a frown. The stress and sorrow are already fading, but another feeling remains strong.

I've always been pretty good at separating the emotions in people's dreams from my own, but it's hard to experience a love like the one he had for Sakariel and not feel at least a little affection for the guy.

On impulse, I reach over and lay my hand on his chest above his heart, feeling the steady beat of it beneath my palm. I don't remember seeing this in the dreams, but I'm suddenly certain that it's something Sakariel used to do. The feeling unnerves me, and he chooses that moment to wake up.

I snatch my hand back.

"Alex?" he asks, sitting up. "Is everything okay?"

The images from the dream flash through my mind, and that weirdly persistent feeling pulses a little stronger.

"Yeah," I say, and turn away to get up. "Everything's fine."