Night had fallen faster than he could've hoped for, a nervousness brewing within December as he walks the cobblestone trail of the small town bathed in moonlight. The hazy yellow light glimmers against each stone embedded in the pathway he blindly follows, cicadas stalking his every move as that rustle in the far off grass.

Nova's directions weren't exactly clear, the hazy instructions gifted only after she had finished her cup. This world is nothing like Haven's labyrinth of white, he could easily navigate the maze he had been raised in. Besides, even if he had lost his way the worst he would be met with was a scolding glare from Jenn or a dead end. Yet in this world a wrong turn could be the difference between life and death, a thought that refuses to lie dormant as he tenses with every nearby rustle and cricket's chirp.

A wind whips across the path, bringing with it a chill that wraps around December, hands shoving themselves into the pockets of the Haven sweatpants he had slipped on in a hurry before creeping away from the palace. His fingers swirl within the empty pocket, loose threads catching at his nails as he absentmindedly wraps it around each finger. Yet even now a phantom chill runs through him at the thought of the blockers that clinked against one another mere moments before, the vials tucked securely in the back of an armoire in his palace bedroom.

Cicada songs serve as background noise to his own racing thoughts, Abrahm's words creeping into his conscious, a leech that refuses to detach until it's drained every inch of life from his tired being.

Before his thoughts can drown him, the cobblestone path begins to fade into the entrance of a nearby stone cave. It appears to be shallow, extending outwards into the mountain rather than burying itself into the Earth's depths below. Torches line the rim of the cave, the stone entrance sanded down to a perfect curve with intricate details carved on both sides. A light emits from within the cave that flickers with the oncoming breeze, December pulling his coat closer to him with a chill before entering the cave.

The interior is far more ornate than the exterior would lead one to believe. Though the walls and floor of the cave are made of the same blue-tint stone, the walls of the hallway are adorned with etches filled in with white and gold paint. They depict images of flowers and trees, the same motifs depicted at the diner and carved into the wood of his palace bed. Floating across the top of the cave are large balls of light illuminating the pathway leading to the main chamber of the cave, December frozen in the entryway at the sight of it.

The cave is filled with statues arranged in lines that follow the curve of the cave, white marble that strikes against the dark background of the cavern. The statues are adorned with gold foils and paints and white flowers lay at each of their feet. There's a fog of incense that wafts through the room, a heavy scent of herbs and perfume that sticks to December's clothing and burns through his lungs with each inhale.

The room is empty besides one body knelt before a statue, a sheer pink robe draped across his body and white-blonde curls blending into the marble before him. December inhales deeply, a poor attempt at granting himself confidence as he approaches the creature still kneeled on the floor, his attention only diverting when December is stood right before him.

The creature stands to meet him, burgundy eyes tracing the length of December's body in one fell swoop. It's the first time December has been alone with him since their meeting in Haven, the rush of the outdoors leading him to Wren in the dead of the night, the one time they were almost met as equals...

Neither of them speak, merely staring into one another as they judge each move, each breathe that the other dares to make, endlessly searching for a hidden meaning that proves the truths they both desperately cling to. He's the villain of this story, the one who separated them from Haven, the one who's shaking hands murdered the humans December held dear and attempted to end December's life as well. The creature that kidnapped them and dragged them to the far reaches of hell , a hell December is too afraid to admit that he doesn't believe they'll ever return from.

So why doesn't he appear as the monster that his memories have made him out to be? Why does he seem too small now as he stands before December, head slightly upturned to greet the brunette's eyes before adverting his own gaze in submission. Why does the devil that burned his home, that damned all of humanity, seem fragile of all states?

Wren glances up at him again, large eyes burning into December's soul as he holds them steady, searching for something within him that December will never know. Yet December is locked in his trance, blue eyes scanning his human-esque features in return. The way his eyes are slightly too large, the pupils taking up more space than they should and his lashes too long. The way the splotches of color flicked across his nose and cheeks can barely be called freckles, just pigment stamped haphazardly across his face that flushes a cool pink.

He's strangely feminine, shoulders lean and narrow exposed by the sheer pink robes that hang around the upper area of his arms. The way his features smoothly round out and lips form into a doll like pout. His hair is no longer the red tint it once was, the stress of Haven lightening it to a white toned blonde that falls unkept against his forehead.

"How did you find this place?"

December had forgotten how gentle his voice was, each word high pitched and breathy as if he speaks through each exhale.

"I was given directions, a woman from the diner said that you come here at night."

"And you sought me out?" Wren chuckles, the chime ringing through the empty cave. The creature fumbles with a woven bag placed at his hip, digging through its contents before retrieving two hard cookies from its depths. Silently, he places the biscuit into the center of December's palm before pointing to the marble statue before him. "Here, place your offering."

The blonde places the cookie onto a glass table constructed in front of the statue before instructing December to do the same. The glass is chill from the night air, condensation beginning to form along its surface as droplets drip down the sides of the glass. With an incense stick pressed tightly between his palm he bows his head in prayer, foreign whispers filling the room as he carries on oblivious to December's presence beside him.

Eventually he raises his head, extinguishing the incense stick and the toxic fog that emitted from it. It isn't until the smoke has cleared that December can make out the contents arranged within the glass table display, a collection of images and items neatly placed before the statue. A gold plaque is drilled into the upper region of the glass table, it's white words spelling out only a name and a title:

Basil
The Edacious One

December's fingers graze against the plaque before turning to Wren stood silently beside him, thoughts seemingly elsewhere as he stares into the contents of the glass table.

December's attention follows suit as he stares into the glass table alongside him, a silence threatening to consume them whole. "So this is you." It's more a statement than a question, eyes locked onto the glass table for fear of nowhere else to go.

"All of them are me." Wren never looks up as he answers, rather fumbling with his sheer robes as a distraction.

"Seems a bit vain to leave an offering for yourself doesn't it?"

With this the tension shatters, Wren gifting a genuine laugh as he finally turns to face December with a shake of his head. "December," the name is still foreign to hear in his breathy tone, December straightening up at the name. "what are you really doing here?"

"I met Nova today and she told me about Basil. She suggested that I come and speak with you."

Wren only laughs, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck with a tight pull. "Nova is a drunk, I don't really think you should be taking her advice. But yeah," his smile starts to fade, brows furrowed with an oncoming concern before he pushes it off with another rub of the neck and deep inhale. "you don't have to worry about what happened to her happening to Ryder, since I'm assuming that's what you're here about. Basil was an ītäl, it's rare enough that out of every incarnation in this room he's the only one who's had it."

December gifts an approving nod, somehow knowing that this is the most confirmation that the creature is willing to give. Instead, he focuses his attention elsewhere, eyes narrowing slightly as he attempts to repeat the foreign word. The syllables are heavy on his tongue compared to Wren's breathy speech, the word mangled worse with each poor attempt at repetition.

The blonde attempts to stifle a laugh within his fist although a small chime manages to slip past his guard. "You're actually really bad at this for a supposed prodigy." He chuckles, biting back a devilish grin at December's startled expression. "Shėä is supposed to be light, the words should be airy and drift from the mouth."

"Shėä." December repeats the phrase slowly. The word still falls out in heavy chunks however, regardless of the many attempts he dares to make. "What does that mean, Shėä?"

Wren takes a seat on the stone floor, hand tapping against the stone beckoning December to join him. The dynamic has fallen into the same as so many nights ago, the two once again falling on the plane of equals if only for a brief moment in the passing night.

"Roughly translated it would be something along the lines of 'Earth Tone' in your language." By now the boundaries have melted away, Wren's body relaxing as his shoulders dissolve from their tight held position and his back slouches into a curve. "It's the language that the angels spoke. They taught it to the first creations and it carried on from there."

His voice is hazy as if in a dream state, pink cheek placed against his knee while the other leg lays outstretched towards December. He must be cold, December thinks to himself, the only barrier between the boy's skin being a see-through draping of fabric that can barely be classified as clothing. The material only becomes opaque in the area that conceals the white shorts clinging tightly to his skin, but even there it's still thin enough to make out what's underneath.

Without thinking, the words are already leaving December's lips. "Are you not cold?" He quizzes before a slight shame washes over him for asking. Why should he care? It isn't human, it most likely feels nothing...

"Yes, actually."

"Oh!" It's all he can get out, pure shock strangling the words barged in his throat. "Um..." It's the first time December's ever been flustered, face hot and eyes downcast as he shrugs off his coat and extends it to the creature. He can't help but notice Wren's slight flinch at the sight of December's arm rushing towards him, or the way he draws his leg towards himself protectively to soften a blow that never comes.

The creature eventually accepts the offering, throwing the coat around his shoulders before pulling his knees into his chest, chin placed against the protruding bone as he stares towards December sat in front of him. Neither of them speak, the sounds of their shallow breaths filling the silence they leave behind.

"Hey, December?" Wren asks gingerly, pulling the coat closer around him before shrinking back into himself. "Tomorrow the Council will be meeting to determine what will happen to the humans." His words spill out slowly, each one testing the waters before continuing. "They'll do a procedure on me, to go through my memories..." By now his eyes are glassy, thoughts distant as he carries on mechanically, shallow breaths quickening in fear with each concealed thought that races by. "December, I need to know what exactly you signed off on, to the very last detail. If you don't, I'm unsure if I'll be able to save you."

The air has shifted, the illusion of equals disappearing with the briefest mention of Haven. Everything feels heavy, like the walls of the cave had closed in during Wren's speech and there's no escaping, just gasping for the last bit of air that never comes.

"Save me?" December can't think, the phrase only repeating over in his mind until it's lost all meaning. His numb body left empty and confused before the trembling creature ahead of him. He knows he shouldn't ask the question he so desperately wants, no needs, the answer to. To why Wren would ever want to save him, or why he would give December a warning at all. He tried to kill this thing and yet here it is trembling on a cave floor at the mention of it's past, huddled beneath it's assailant's coat that swallows it whole. "Why would you-"

December stops mid speech, words clogged in his throat as if his body knows he doesn't deserve the answer to the questions bouncing within his mind. "I signed off on keeping you, and had you placed in my section."

Is this what confession feels like...?

To confess your wrongdoings beneath the judgement of God, to stare into the eyes of the one you hurt and confess your sins. To watch the pain flash behind their eyes at the slightest mention of your actions and you've barely even begun.

"I signed off on administering the blockers, as well as the interrogation. I signed off on blood samples during your stay and I gave permission for your..." Your death. "Wren..."

He doesn't answer, face hidden in his knees though his body continues to tremble, a muffled cry audible from between each bony knee. The coat wrapped around him rises and falls in rapid succession, body heaving as he surely gasps for breath between each cries.

Cries brought along from the memory of Haven, of December, and the pain that refused to cease. Refused to listen to his screams washed out by the cutting of bone and the begs thrown against deaf ears. The cries that are now too silent, conditioned to be muffled against his flesh in fear of the guards on constant alert for any sign of life. Any sign that allotted for more blockers, more experiments, more agony.

Now the silence falls again, this time cushioned by the cries of the ruined fae and the boy sat motionless, chained to his thoughts. Blue gaze never leaving the blonde until the first tears begin to well in December's eyes, tears flowing freely as they rush across heated cheeks and darken the stone beneath them.

No... this is what retribution feels like.