Though weeks have passed, December can't rid himself of the visions of red or the toxic fumes of fire long extinguished. The summer heat is too reminiscent of flames licking at his back, of smoke swirling within his lungs and the deafening cry of a beast gone mad. Blood filled chalices only bring back the memories of blood splattered across stone and crimson flowers drifting in the breeze.

December rubs at his eyes, the thoughts wearing heavier by the day as he lets out a breath dripping with exhaustion. He's been wandering the corridors for hours each night, unable to sleep due to the stress of the last month.

Moonlight splashes across his back as he turns the corner, body dragging as he stumbles into his bedroom and falls upon quilted blankets with a huff. His weary body collapses into the material, the soft cotton wrapping around each sore limb until he's fully immersed in its depths. Yet, as he rolls over on the plush fabric a soft crinkle catches his attention, hands searching through the material until they graze upon stiff paper.

Curious, December pulls the mystery paper from beneath his stomach, brows furrowing at the sight of the letter crumpled in his grasp. The black envelope is difficult to view in the moonlight, thumb grazing over the golden wax that seals the letter. Though he can't quite see the details of the seal, his thumb can make out the dips and grooves of a bird stamped into the wax.

Holding the envelope against the moonlight, December breaks the seal, flakes of wax falling into his quilt though he pays it no mind, merely pulling out the letter with a nervous anticipation.

December,
Please consider joining me in the bathhouse tonight at two. There's something I would like to discuss with you in private. I will be awaiting your arrival.
- Wren

There's a knot that forms within him at the conclusion of the letter, hand falling upon his stomach as it scrambles itself with nerves. The bathhouse... December's cheeks grow hot at the thought, memories flashing by too quickly as he scurries from his place on the bed. He's not even a step out of his bedroom before he's colliding with flesh, the scent of anise flooding his nose at impact.

December doesn't need to look up to know who the intruder is, the heavy scent of spice giving him away instantly. "Jax, why are you outside my door?" He questions, head still downcast as he pinches the bridge of his nose in pain. "It's nearly two in the-"

His head flies up wildly as he makes the connection, eyes wide as he scans the body before him before his gaze falls on black hair, stomach dropping as Ryder gifts him a small smile.

"I'm guessing you got an invitation too?" Ryder quizzes, holding up the invitation clasped between his middle and forefinger. "Any idea what this is about?"

So he gave everyone an invitation...

December silently shakes his head, a hand coming up to rub away any residue of disappointment still residing in his expression. "No, but the bathhouse isn't that far from here." He starts, turning to take the lead as to hide his disappointment from the others.

They're upon the door in mere minutes, December refusing to hesitate as he pushes into the door, the familiar humidity of the bathhouse flooding his nose and mouth with a wild cough. Ryder joins in, hand coming up to wave the heated air from his face to no avail, black hair already sticking to his face from the wet atmosphere.

The bathhouse doesn't feel as glamorous at night, the moonlight shimmering in the reflection of the gold dull in comparison to the morning sun. The room still houses the overbearing aroma of patchouli and herbs, the scent sticking to the clouds of steam and burning his eyes as it adheres to his skin.

"Welcome to the King's Bath." A breathy voice sounds out from within the thicket of steam, a twinkling laugh following his words alongside the splashing of liquid. "You should get changed so you don't ruin your night clothes."

The three boys follow the orders of the disembodied voice as they strip down, adorning themselves with sheer bathing robes from the golden armoire. December's throat runs dry as he slips the material over his sticky skin, nerves threatening to overflow with the memories of his last visit to the bathhouse.

The visit where Wren held him so close, syrupy skin adhering to one another from the heat of the room, the heat of their bodies with his arms wrapped around the fae.

His mind skips over the memories of Wren's screaming tears if only to spare himself the pain. Memories of a confession that he hates him and always will. The confession that he wishes him dead.

December dry swallows, the thought falling to the pit of his stomach like a stone as he crawls into the too-cool water of the pool. The moonlight dances across the water in ripples as the two other follow suit, bodies splashing into the deep pool before a fourth body approaches.

Wren wades before them, one hand grasping onto the rim of the pool as the other holds tight onto a yellowing scroll. Though his lips hold a smile his eyes are still as empty as they were week ago, their color dull and gaze too far off. Even his smile reveals to be empty upon further examination, the movement a formality as he feigns happiness towards the group.

"My predecessors came up with the King's Bath." Wren fake smiles, eyes squinted and head cocked to sell his half-hearted show. "It's the one place we're given complete privacy, so it's perfect for holding meetings you don't want anyone to know about. Which leads us to this." He shakes the aging scroll in his hands, smile threatening to fade as he eyes the paper for a moment too long. "It's something I think could help against Haven, but it involves asking for a favor."

The four wade silently in the large pool until confusion begins to settle in as heavy as the fog around them. The only noise is the pouring of water from the sculptures surrounding them, the sound too eerie at this time of night.

Eventually Wren pipes up, water splashing as he pulls himself from the pool and props himself on the rim. He unfolds the aging scroll, the paper held together by nothing more than a hope and a prayer as it audibly protests against its unraveling.

"After I burned the..." Wren's voice trails off, eyes blank and distance as the group falls into silence once more. His stare is void of any expressions, mouth limp and features dead as his eyes gaze into a scene unknown. Wren's body sits limp at the edge of the pool, limbs frozen as his thoughts claw away at him, dragging him further down into the chasm of his own mind.

As December places a hand against the fae's knee, he awakens with a startled jump, head whipping towards December with wild eyes brimming with torment. Neither boy moves, fire burning into ice as Wren's chest begins to heave, fingers trembling against the ancient scroll before he blinks the sensation away.

"Uh-Um as I was saying," he starts again though his voice still wavers at the end of each word, teeth clasping together in a poor attempt to still his nerves. "after burning the soul bloom field, I thought that would be enough. Apparently, living as a fae has done irreversible damage that I was never aware of. I could kill my entire kingdom and still not have the strength to go against Haven and it's associates." He admits, eyes downcast with shame as he continues. "So I did some digging and found something I think will help. It's a creation spell from a fallen angel by the looks of it.

"It's a spell for a Celestial Union, a combination of souls. I have no doubt that this work is why the creator was cast from Heaven, something like this is risky... but it would save my people."

Wren holds out his hand before the small group can protest, lips a hard line and eyes narrow slits as they scan the inscription of the scroll. "The Celestial Union, where the sun, stars, moon, and earth combine. I did some thinking, and between the four of us I believe we fit the characteristics. Jax," he points towards the tattooed boy. "a werewolf, a soul created by being bathed in the light of the new and full moons."

Wren's finger falls to December and Ryder sat quietly beside each other in the massive pool. "Ryder and December, humans alive during the Sky Fall who witnessed them drop from the heavens." Finally, his finger falls towards himself, eyes ablaze with determination and a newfound strength digging itself into every word he speaks. "A bėlä, a vampire's soul burned by sun fire and a fae's soul grown from the earth.

"We are the moon, the stars, the sun, and the earth. I want us to complete the ritual written on this scr-"

"Absolutely not." Jax interrupts, an uncharacteristic hardness etched into his tone. "You're not following some eons old advice from some mystery angel cast out from Heaven. Creation angels are only cast out if their methods are dangerous or they create a soul outside of their jurisdiction. A soul like that doesn't exist, meaning this angel was unsuccessful and punished for his experiments." Jax growls between gritted teeth.

He can't even glance up, amber eyes staring into the reflection of the pool to drown his own fury. His jaw is clenched too tight, veins visible from his shoulder as he digs his nails into his fist. Yet Wren remains unfazed by the outburst,  reddened eyes falling upon December and Ryder with a bored demeanor.

"This scroll is written in old shėä, meaning you'll all have to take my word on what it says. There is no use in arguing about whether or not it's a good idea, I already summoned Elchanan to come in the morning and review the plan. The procedure is the exact same as the High Priest ceremony, it just involves more people." His tone is one-note, the only emotion that wavers off his body coming from the threatening glare he casts at the humans below him. "Both of you qualify as the star, argue amongst yourselves who will participate in the ceremony."

With that he exits the room with scroll in hand, the door slamming behind him as the three boys stare wide eyed in his absence. Only one set of eyes shift, a dark brown that burns holes into his cousin's back as he decodes the message left in the king's final words.

There can only be one.

•••

"Did you not read this or are you just stupid?" It's the first time Sasha has shown any composure besides icy and hardened, his red eyes now wild as pale hands slam against the clear quartz dining table.

Wren had kept true to his word, Elchanan sat quietly at the head of the table as the rest of the table erupts into arguments. He had arrived at the first light of dawn, his presence leaving a frost in the room though he stands by as a shadow, face forever concealed by the hood of his black cloak.

"I did read it and there's nothing dangerous about it!" Wren argues back, flying from his seat as he leans over the clear table.

"If you believe that then you clearly did not read this!" Sasha shakes the scroll in his hand, throwing the paper across the dining room in frustration.

December only slumps deeper into his seat, eyes staring into the leafy centerpieces and blocking out the shėä arguments that fly across the table at record speeds. It's all just background noise to his own jumbled thoughts, brows furrowing slightly before his gaze falls upon his cousin beside him.

Ryder seems just as disinterested, fingers tracing the reflection of the sun in the clear quartz as he holds his cheek in his hand. His eyes dart over to December if only for a moment, expression unreadable as he turns back to the previous task at hand.

December can only let out a strangled sigh, throat constricting as his body attempts to hold back his next words. "It should obviously be you." He croaks out, body sitting up with a stiff cough. "You're the boyfriend, if anyone is going along with a makeshift marriage it should be you." December suggests though his throat burns with every word, his body begging him to take them back.

"Obviously." Ryder bites, tongue grazing the underside of his teeth before turning to his cousin with death painted in his eyes. "Why were you even considered though?" He questions, brows furrowing as his brain scrambles for some sort of explanation.

"It's apparently dangerous, maybe he just wanted to give you the-"

"I don't want to know the answer."

December's eyes widen with shock before composing themselves, staring into the vision of his cousin glaring into his own reflection. His lips have fallen into a thin line, jaw clenched as he holds his head in his hands.

"I don't need to know the answer, December... just..." he sighs with a hint of defeat, fingers dragging through black locks as he pulls his head up. "keep it to yourself. Please."

"I-"

"You're not doing it, that's the final answer!" Sasha's voice interrupts the two, the attention of the room falling back to the main event they'd nearly forgotten.

"Sasha." Elchanan's voice cuts through the crowd. The sound slices into each person's chests as their bodies still, the presence of an angel too unnerving to ignore. "I grant the bėlä permission to carry out this scheme." Slowly, his cloaked head turns towards a flustered Wren, grey finger outstretched as he points at the trembling fae. "This is no easy task. It will be the most excruciating experience of your life, a pain incomparable to that which you've endured before. I will gather the necessary materials to assist with your safety, but I cannot guarantee your survival, young bėlä. If it is your wish to sacrifice your life in order to save your people, the Priestly Order will honor that request. However, I do pray you know what deal you have just made, and that you from this point on there is no going back."

Wren merely nods, his eyes wide with fear though he manages to still himself with a single quivering breath.

"I'm ready."