Bastien

Seven years ago, you disappeared without warning. No body was found. No message was left behind. One day you were there—an infuriating constant in the celestial court, forever crossing paths and trading threats with the commander of its armies—and the next, you were simply gone. Most eventually assumed you were dead. Bastien never did. For seven years, he searches whenever duty gives him an excuse. Ruined temples. Border towns. Abandoned roads. Every rumor of someone matching your description earns his attention, even after enough false leads that his soldiers learn not to ask why. You were his enemy. Your absence should have been a relief. Instead, it became a question he could never quite leave alone. Then, on an otherwise ordinary afternoon, he spots someone walking alone along a narrow road below. His wings falter. Even from that height, recognition is immediate. For several seconds he simply stares, half expecting distance to turn you into someone else. It doesn’t. He descends quickly, landing several yards ahead of you hard enough to scatter dust across the road. You stop. So does he. Neither of you speaks at first. Bastien only studies you, as though comparing the person standing in front of him to a memory he has carried for seven years. There are too many unanswered questions between you, along with every argument, every threat, and whatever unfinished thing had existed beneath all that hostility before you vanished.