Taski was dreaming.
He could tell, because his dreams always smelled like blood.
It was the same dream he'd had since he was a boy. It started with him curled up, his arms hugging his knees. He floated, but whether it was on air or in water, he didn't know. His hair floated like he was underwater, but his clothing was dry. It bothered him that he couldn't tell where he was, but he didn't open his closed eyes. He wanted to know where he was; he didn't want to see it.
But most of his dreams started like this. He would open his eyes, and then the real dream would start.
Sometimes, he would open his eyes, and he would be sitting on his mother's lap, safe within her arms. Sometimes, he would be in a rolling plain of grass, or in a forest. The plain always overlooked a barren crater of land, ash-colored and blasted by some unknown magic. Except, Taski knew what that magic was. It was so very much like his own. It was his mother's magic, called upon to kill the man who threatened her son, but that killed her instead.
Taski always left that place as soon as he saw it. He didn't care whether it was the scorched pit, or the columns of glass that kept popping up more and more often. That place was death to him. He fled there as quickly as he could on his own two legs. The birds coasted by him, their effortless flight mocking him as he waded through the tall grass, stumbling on hidden lumps and rabbit-holes. His face was cut, his hands rubbed raw, but he refused to fly.
Oh, he could have joined the birds. His six wings were just as good as their two. But he wouldn't. As long as he could get by without his wings, he would. Using his wings meant admitting he wasn't human.
He knew he wasn't. He had wings, six of them at that. Pale green things that shed their feathers at the least opportunity. He swore he molted like a bird, but he couldn't prove it. He had magic, a fiery yet dark force that he'd seen nearly kill a man. But he would never admit to these things to anyone if he could. He valued his life too highly to throw it away on truth. Because he would be killed if anyone ever found out his father had been an Aelfinn.
Taski sighed in his sleep, resigned. He had to open his eyes. Would he be in the plain tonight, or the forest? He didn't want either, but he would rather those than his mother's arms. Whenever he dreamt of her, he awoke in tears. Even now, nine years after her death. Not that he would ever admit that she was dead. How could she be, when she talked to him still, here in his hateful dreams.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the brightness. He was surrounded by shimmering pillars, their bases made of plain earth, as if it had been piled around the crystal.
"Where the hell is this?" he snapped.
"Korimshi." The soft voice came from behind him. He whirled around, not expecting his question to be answered, especially with that answer. He found himself staring at the last thing he wanted to see.
"Dane," he hissed, "what do you want?" His hand twitched to his side, where his swords hung.
"Please, Taski, spare me the dramatics," the dark-haired man said with uncharacteristic force. "You aren't going to kill me."
"How do you know that?" Taski replied, hand on sword-hilt. The other man would never have a chance...
"You never kill me. You've been promising me for years, and you never come through." Dane's blue eyes bored into him. "Will you ever come through?" He turned and stared at the pillars. "This is what we were born for, you know."
Taski snorted. "Glass? If we have any purpose at all- which I doubt-" he cut off Dane's reply to that- "I don't think it has anything to do with a bunch of over-sized cups."
Dane shook his head and leaned against the nearest pillar. "They're not cups, Taski. They're a trap, a power-source, a warning. These are here to warn us to our real purpose."
"Have you been reading those stupid prophecies again?" Taski said derisively. "Because you've filled your head with dust and lies. You can't honestly say you believe all that pig-paint about the meaning of our lives."
"I do, and it's 'hog-wash.'"
Taski raked a hand through his hair. "Hog-wash, pig-paint, what ever. It's all bull-shit!" He punched a pillar. And was genuinely surprised when it didn't shatter. Indeed, he had red marks already forming on his knuckles from the impact. He stared at his hand, blinking in astonishment. "That... that hurt!"
Dane looked smug, his eyes shaded by his hair and his slight grin pulling at the mole near the corner of his mouth. So Taski punched him. Dane thumped against a pillar, cracking it. Taski grinned.
"Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that!?" he said, laughing. Dane merely stood and brushed himself off. He looked more annoyed than hurt. Taski's hand went for his sword again.
"Oh, stop!" Dane snapped. "I am not your enemy."
"Really?" Taski retorted. "Then why do you make me want to kill you?"
"I can't help that." Dane sat cross-legged on the ground. He had a book in his lap, although Taski had no idea where it had come from. It was large and bound in worn brown leather. The pages were yellowed with time, the writing faded. Not that Taski could read it anyways. It was written all in squiggles. Either someone had very bad hand-writing, or it wasn't in a language he couldn't understand.
"This book," Dane began, "contains our lives. It's a prophecy."
"You're insane."
"No, I'm not the crazy one," he said matter-of-factly. He was always matter-of-fact. "That's Yasus. I'm something else." Taski rolled his eyes.
"Can I wake up yet?" he whined. "I don't like this dream, and I'm getting hungry."
"He won't let you."
"Huh?" Taski looked around idly for someone else. "'He' who? Why can't I wake up? This is my dream! I'll wake up when I want to!" Dane sighed softly. He flipped through his book, looking for something. He paused on one page, muttering about it not being right and why could he never find it when he needed it?
Taski stood, his arms crossed and tapping his foot. He stuck the end of his long, red-black hair in his mouth, half sucking, half chewing on it. It was a bad habit, one of a few. He stared at Dane for awhile, getting bored very quickly. Now, if Dane had been a pretty girl, he would have been relatively content. Of course, if Dane had been anyone else, he would have been content. He hated the man. He couldn't remember exactly why anymore; he only remembered disliking him at first sight. The then eight-year-old boy had accompanied some of his Mumma's old friends on a visit to their Korimshi home. He had been quiet, almost hiding behind Nirona. He didn't say more than three words to Taski that entire day, bu t his deep blue eyes had stared at him. Even when Soreia, Aliane, and Taski's Mumma had gone down to the burning town to rescue any survivors, Dane only stared.
"I saw right away that we were the same," Dane said in response to his thoughts.
"We are not the same!" Taski snapped, nearly screaming. "I am not a doll!" Dane finally looked up at him again. There were those blue eyes again, piecing him. They would have been beautiful, if rather eerie, if they hadn't been Dane's.
The book was gone. The pillars had disappeared from sight. Dane stood in front of him, looking down at the shorter boy. "You still think that," he whispered. Taski only nodded. When had Dane gotten so tall?! Then he remembered he was dreaming.
"Can I wake up yet?" he said, snapping again
"He won't let you, still."
"Who? Tell me who!"
"He's coming," was Dane's response. "Our time is coming." He turned away. "We are needed, because of what we are."
"Monsters." The hurt was evident in his voice. He didn't want his power. He wanted to live. He thought it was a reasonable request, but his lineage had it in for him. He had kept it hidden, but the knowledge that he wasn't a real person always lurked in the corner of his mind.
Dane nodded. "We are half- half human, half Aelfinn. And that means we are half the hope of the world. When they return, we will be needed."
"Do you plan on shutting up anytime soon? I'd like to get some real sleep."
"You're ignoring the point."
"Yup." Dane whirled back around.
"You can't ignore this, boy! The world needs you! Otherwise you would not have been allowed to live!" Dane stepped toward Taski, towering over him, menacing. Dane was never menacing. Forceful, quiet, confident, and calm to a fault, the real Dane never menaced. Taski willed himself to wake up.
"We have a purpose," Dane continued. "Unlike most of the world, we know our purpose. And you fight it! You should be grateful of the direction! Without that purpose, you are just another useless human!"
"That's what I want!" Taski's voice was almost defensive. His eyes felt hot, like he was going to cry. He hadn't cried since he was nine. The familiar hatred swelled.
"Coward! Hiding behind your humanity!" Dane's face twisted with anger. He backhanded the other boy, knocking him away. "Go hide! I will fight them myself!"
Taski's eyes flared. He licked his lip, tasting the broken flesh that wasn't quite bleeding. "You don't need to fight. I'll kill you first." His hands twitched at his sides again, not for his swords, but for a grip around Dane's long neck. He wanted to tear that perfect white skin, taste his salty blood...
He nearly jumped backwards when he realized what he was thinking. "I am not a monster!" His scream echoed in the emptiness that surrounded them. Dane's face softened, becoming the more familiar understanding that Taski so hated.
"We have to fight," he told him- softly, always softly with Dane. "We are the only ones who can."
"I know," Taski grumbled. He kneeled, tracing circles on the grayness below them. He hated dream landscapes as much as he hated the dreams.
"You consent to fight?" Dane sounded surprised, as if he expected more resistance.
"Have to. I'm a fighter." Taski sighed. "It's all I know how to do, y'know?" He looked up at Dane again, his pale eyes narrow. "But you better damn well help! I'm not gonna get killed while you sit around with those dusty books!"
"I know." The dark-haired boy smiled, a sincere smile of relief. It still pulled at his mole, though. "You can sleep now."
"Thanks for permission," Taski responded sarcastically. "I never would have thought I could sleep while I was asleep!" He paused. "This doesn't mean I'm not going to kill you someday, you know."
"I know."
"Good." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, wondering exactly how he was going to get back into normal sleep.
****
In his room, the rising sun fell on Taski from the window he'd forgotten to close the night before. He snorted in his sleep and rolled over. His face, scrunched up in anger most of the night, finally relaxed into the smooth expression of contented rest.