Chapter Text
In the dark there is nothing to do except exist. Rhaast even questions that. He’d always wondered what would happen if he died in the confines of his curse. Would anything change?
Rhaast doesn’t know. He doesn't know a lot of things. Existence feels fractured, as if when they’d split apart, it was a jagged break. And now there’s nothing else.
And no one else.
Why did he do it? Everything he’s pushed away has come back to taunt him.
“You’re more human than you realize.”
If Rhaast could speak, he would answer. “Perhaps.” Maybe all it took was the sun disc, everything returns to Shurima anyway. He remembers Kayn’s hand on his arm. The realization that having someone by his side feels… good.
“Why did you kill him?” He thinks about it. Rhaast remembers the way Kayn brightens when he is praised. Sinking into kind words like quicksand, even if they are false.
Were false?
Kayn’s hand in his own, calming the age old agonies.
“I don’t know,” he would tell him if he could. “I don’t know, I don’t care.”
There are things that he will never tire of. Death and murder, the turn of his scythe, and a dying sunset, just to name a few. But he is tired of being alone. The realization drives into Rhaast deeper than any weapon.
He is terrified that he has lost his one chance at something different.
Time passes meaninglessly before he glimpses a consciousness. Someone he recognizes but can’t quite place. The soul lights up at the edge of his being, trailing forest green through the nothingness. Instantly he latches on, it feels like the first time, right before he met Kayn, where a soldier had reached for him in fear.
He hopes this human is the same. Maybe if he can lure them in he can escape. All he needs is the barest touch.
“Perfect. ” Silky black hair was so soft on his fingers.
“Who will prove worthy?” He asks. Intoxicating on both the weakest and the strongest minds, however he is sullen. The lure will hopefully be enough. Just one touch—
And it is enough . Rhaast feels a brush of contact and all he can hear is roaring as the wind finally reaches his senses. A breath of air as he easily snuffs out the soul like a light.
“Amao!” He turns clumsily at the shout. An acolyte stares at him in horror from a few yards away, face drained of color. Rhaast is already changing, corruption crawling up his new body, the glorious rush of a form overtaking him.
“I—” the acolyte stammers. “I told you—don’t—”
The world is deliriously bright. Sunlight filters through the trees around him, so colorful after nothing but darkness. He can see smoke rising over the treetops to the west.
“An end to her already ineffective existence,” Rhaast growls. Amao, how perfect. She’d already had an interest in him but she’d committed such a human error. Perhaps he should be grateful.
The man turns to bolt but he knocks him down into the dirt. Rhaast must work fast. His body has an expiration date.
Rhaast kicks the man over onto his back and steps on his throat, not crushing, not yet. He must look downright monstrous with the corruption sharpening his claws and broadening his shoulders.
The human’s eyes are white with fear. He reaches towards his belt but Rhaast is quick to swing his scythe like a hammer and pin his hand into the dirt. The man wails.
He leans on his scythe. “How long has it been?”
“I—” A snivelling mess. “I don’t know—Amao—”
“She’s dead. I made sure to tear her soul to shreds,” Rhaast cuts him off, impatient. “Tell me how long it’s been. Are the Noxians still invading?”
“Yes—” the man gasps as Rhaast slowly cuts off his air supply. “More—from the beach—”
“And of Shieda Kayn?”
The man’s free hand reaches to try and force off Rhaast’s foot, but he’s too weak.
“I don’t know—” he manages to get out.
Rhaast pulls his scythe out of the dirt. The man jolts, screaming again.
“Pathetic,” he hisses. This boy’s answers are not useful at all.
“Let me—go, please—” Worthless begging.
“You think I’d let you go?” Rhaast laughs. “Die knowing that you couldn’t save your friend’s life, or your own.”
He crushes the man’s throat under his heel, relishing in the distinct feeling of his body giving way. There will be no getting up from that.
The burning village is northwest of him and the hills are directly behind. Rhaast doesn’t know exactly how he ended up here. A charred patch of ground offers some help, but it’s not enough to really figure out what happened. Perhaps the force of the bond breaking had caused some sort of explosion and Amao had come to investigate. Rhaast doesn’t know. At least he was not trapped in his weapon for long. The sun is lower but there is still daylight.
Not much time left to this body. It will last longer than the one in the Noxian bunker, but probably not by much.
He advances till the forest thins out to the wide stretch of plains separating him from the beach. There are bodies scattered across the flat land, some still moving, other stiff. Fighting has continued, the final boat having brought a fresh wave of soldiers with it.
Rhaast just needs to get to where he last was. To see if maybe—just maybe some semblance of Kayn is still alive. He starts across the field, wary of the way his fingers have started to crumble. Must stand out like a demon. A darkin.
When the humans, from both sides, inevitably attack, whether driven by fear or bewilderment, Rhaast cuts them down easily. He does spare one Noxian soldier, but only long enough to invade his mind and take over. This one has a weaker will than both of the forms he’s held previously. Another body will be necessary.
The wind howls across the plain and tears at Rhaast’s new armor. He sees Yasuo far away at the village edge, staring at him. His long blade is pointed directly at him, a warning. Maybe a challenge.
Rhaast wants to answer it. Any other time he would. Before Kayn he would. But he sees the gleam in Yasuo’s eyes, the glint of it, even from this far away. It’s not like Kayn’s.
Maybe that’s it. He glances at his hands, already turning black, then back at Yasuo.
Another day, he thinks to himself.
Yasuo tilts his blade and the wind screams through the grass. Rhaast turns back towards the coast. He’s too far away to be chased.
Another group of Noxians are foolish enough to cross his path. He tears through them and moves hosts again. The battle has soured. All of the clean tactics and order of the Noxian army has fallen apart in the wake of this new terror.
“Why did you kill him?” Kayn would ask, a whisper like the first streak of night in the sky.
“The eyes,” he’d say now. “He didn’t have your eyes.”
The plain gives way to the sparse trees again. There Rhaast finds another body, a sturdy Kinkou warrior this time. He remembers this face from Kayn’s memories. There are more Noxian troops now, retreating towards their sloops in a hurry. They haven’t noticed him yet in the clamor.
And there, standing in the rolling surf, is the commander. He scowls at the men as they attempt to organize themselves. Those eyes . Not like Kayn’s either. Rhaast might never find another soul with Kayn’s gaze. A look as if—
Shieda. He’s not dead. The relief tears at him harder than any gust. Not lost after all. Once, Rhaast would have been disgusted with himself, but now he smothers that with the memory of Kayn leaning against his side. The realization is still so recent that he can’t quite wrap his head around it.
Kayn is in one of the boats nearest to the captain, leaning against the side of the sloop like a loose piece of cargo next to a stack of the poisonous canisters. His arms are restrained behind him and the corruption that Rhaast had laced his body appears to be gone, leaving reddened streaks in its wake.
He looks barely awake. Pale as a ghost.
Rhaast announces himself with a swing of his scythe as he steps onto the sandy shore. The tips of his horns are still not as sharp as he’d like. In a few minutes perhaps. There are so many enemies. A good fight.
A worthy fight .
Now the humans immediately take notice. Someone cracks green Shurima into the air and the men raise their weapons. The captain trains his hawk stare on Rhaast, fire crackling across his arm.
“Today will not be a total disappointment after all,” he says. There is no tremble in his tone. He is confident.
Shieda doesn’t stir. He must not be fully conscious.
“Tell me, monster.” The captain steps out of the surf. He raises one hand by his ear and the hissing is silenced. “What brings you back?”
The cursed eye on his weapon is wide, fuming and terrible.
“There are plenty of lives to end here,” Rhaast speaks, and the soldiers shuffle nervously around him. If he concentrates, he can almost feel the bond—or a shadow of it—in his mind. Kayn moves, a murmur in his head. Maybe the proximity allows it.
“You’d think a darkin— ” The man raises his voice louder as he fans the air with his hand. “—would have bigger plans.”
He hefts his scythe. “You’d think a fragile human would know better than to stand against me. Don’t you know how many people I’ve slaughtered?”
A tendril of fire snakes around the man’s boot, popping grains of sand into the air. The soldiers are growing even more restless, weapons clanking together noisily.
“I am aware.” A muscle twitches in the man’s cheek. “You were the one that killed my brother, weren’t you?”
It clicks in Rhaast’s head, how similar the man is to Stowe. He hadn’t thought about it before, granted he hadn’t thought about a lot of things.
“They’d found him gutted along with the rest of that miserable outpost.” The captain bares his teeth in disgust. “He always had so much faith in a darkin’s potential.”
Rhaast laughs. “Meaningless even in death.” He has a plan now. This human is trying to stall him out, till his form weakens to the point of uselessness.
“I would burn your body, and let your scythe sink deep into the ocean, but Noxus has other ideas.” A ball of fire blazes in his palm. This time it does not go away.
“And you expect a whipped army to stop me?”
“I expect—”
Rhaast darts to the surrounding men and swings into them, body a blur. Armor is easily torn through. His blade is always so perfectly sharp. A sword digs into his side and the sharp pain burns buzzes pleasantly. He doesn’t care, it’s a temporary form anyway.
The beach is thrown into chaos as Rhaast is collapsed upon. He doesn’t draw it out as much as he’d like to. Not enough time left to savor each and every scream, instead he works quickly. A spout of fire explodes near him and men thrash as they are set ablaze.
Strength over all, that’s the Noxian way. Yet soldiers continue to fall to Rhaast’s hunger. Not strong enough. Some begin to break away and escape, but still get caught in his wrath. Firebolts pelt the beach, hitting Noxians indiscriminately in an attempt to stop him.
That’s always how it is. Humans never seem to understand just how fragile they really are, especially when against a once-god. Where Rhaast can shrug off blow after blow, trained warriors are felled in one. Even the fire doesn’t stop him, as it’s easy to avoid the heat.
He senses it again, the faint echo of the connection they once shared. A search in the dark for Rhaast. For a little comfort.
“I know why,” Rhaast would tell him. “Because of the way you reach for me.”
“Darkin!” He looks up at the shout. His body is nearly over with, leaking blood onto the already stained sand. There’s not enough men to put up a proper fight since so many have scattered. So his attention shifts to the captain, face a rampant rage as he raises his fist high in the air. Unbridled heat radiates off of him.
He sees the sloops, floating a short ways offshore, pushed off during the fray. He sees Kayn’s boat too no doubt, stranded on the waves with the rest of them. Out of immediate reach. The air hangs heavy and still.
“Why did you really come here? You still need his body as your host, don’t you?”
Rhaast scrabbles for the tattered remains of their bond. “Get out.” He orders, desperate for Kayn to understand. “Get off the boat!”
He recalls the lazy arc right before the poison had knocked against the rooftop and exploded. The poison that he’d seen next to Kayn. A mistake. He recognizes it now. Rhaast is so used to fighting for himself. It’s been so long since he fought for someone else instead. He should have secured Shieda first.
"I could still use his body,” Rhaast agrees slowly. Maybe he can draw this out a little, though if he waits too long he will lose. The commander must know that too. He tries to contact Kayn again, clamoring for that phantom feeling. “Jump off the side! Kayn!” Is he still in the boat? Rhaast can’t quite see.
He realizes he’s said the wrong thing as the captain’s face calms with finality. “Could,” he repeats mockingly.
Rhaast is thinking about this wrong. The fight is lost and this man hates him for killing his brother. He won’t show restraint. Fire gathers in the captain’s hand.
Rhaast dives for him, clumsy from the wounds his body has suffered. He does not connect with the man in time. The magical flame tears through the sky and a moment later an explosion echoes off the water, echoing over the waves like a thunderclap.
He invades the Noxian’s mind and rips it apart, devouring him as cruelly as possible before taking his body at his own. This body is far more resolute, he can tell. It will last him a long time. More useful than his brother at least.
Rhaast hurriedly stomps into the water, scythe still in one hand. Pieces of smoking wood float over the water, drastically deeper as he gets closer. The water reaches his chest, and then the seafloor is gone beneath him. His desperation is a rage. As he draws nearer, he can perceive the ghostly bond, jagged and strange. A thread of what it used to be.
Alive. He swims down—difficult with one free hand—and finds Kayn, a muddied form beneath the waves . Rhaast locks his grip around Kayn’s arms—still bound behind his back—and kicks them both to the surface. When the human’s head breaks through the waves, he coughs and coughs.
“You—” he manages one word after he’s expelled the ocean from his lungs, but that is all.
“Me,” Rhaast agrees. His feet finally find purchase and he pulls them them both onto shore.
Kayn sags against him as soon as he’s out of the water. Rhaast cuts his arms free, also slicing through another one of the magic silencing bracelets on his wrist.
Rhaast looks at the black ships in the sea, then at the smoke continuing to curl over the treetops. He doesn’t know what to do. All his life he’s been alone. He may have had armies and comrades at one point, but nothing like this. Someone at his side purely because they can be.
“You came back.” Shieda finally says, voice suspiciously weak.
Rhaast turns to him. The reddish streaks across his skin, where the darkin corruption used to be, have faded somewhat. His beyond messy hair sticks to his forehead. What do you say to someone who has as much pride as you do? How do you tell them?
"Let’s go,” he decides.
“Why did you—” A waterlogged cough. “—come back?”
“Not now.”
“Rhaast—” Kayn insists.
“Not yet,”
He growls, and the assassin goes quiet.
***
They journey up the coast and then inland, till they stumble on a wayward farm. The sky is darkening now, and throughout their slow going, Kayn has continued to lean heavily against him, though quiet. Rhaast prefers the silence. He doesn’t know what to say.
Killing the inhabitants of the farm is easy. Rhaast understands that well at least. He leaves the three bodies in the tilled fields. There is a fireplace in the simple house, already alive with warmth. Kayn sits on the ground near the hearth, shivering. Rhaast doesn’t sit next to him. He is out of his element. Instead he sits against the wall, a little farther away. He examines his weapon, flawless and sharp. He runs his thumb over the back of the blade.
So much has changed.
“I hate you,” Shieda finally breaks the silence. His hair is loose and he’s working his fingers through it to try and tame the knots.
Rhaast sets his weapon aside. “I know.”
Kayn glances at him, eyes glassy. The firelight casts dancing shadows across the wall. “Tell me why you came back.” He stumbles to his feet, creeping closer to Rhaast. “You wanted me dead.”
He wishes their connection was still strong. He wouldn’t have to say anything, he could just show him. Could make him understand.
“Say something,” Kayn orders, though his voice wavers.
Rhaast reaches out. Shieda doesn’t react as he takes his wrist and pulls him down next to him. Eventually the human leans, so warm, against his shoulder.
Always greedy for comfort. Rhaast can’t blame him anymore. He searches for the right words to say.
“I’m unused to fighting with someone,” he says, slowly. Words dripping from a wound too deep to close.
“Why—”
“Now I am unused to fighting without someone.” A death sentence.
Shieda falls silent.
He glances to his left and their eyes meet. Rhaast knows why.
“Because of how you stare at me.” He answers the unspoken question.
It’s the way he looks at him. As if he’s human. He is not human, but perhaps he still feels like one. Shieda looks at him the way no one ever should. A soft gaze that Rhaast can steal and keep for himself. The way he reaches for Rhaast, admiring him like humanity did long ago, before the earth turned sour. He may have caught himself in his own trap, but Rhaast has decided to stay.
Kayn is still next to him. He’s not going to disappear like on the Shuriman dunes.
Isn’t Rhaast allowed something for himself? That’s what he’s realized. Just because he’s so used to being alone doesn’t mean he has to be. He can allow a fragment of tender weakness if it means Kayn will chase away the haunting void with his touch.
“What do we do now?” Shieda asks after a long pause, quiet. Maybe they’ve spent enough time together that Kayn understands. “I’m not going back to Kinkou.”
“This body will last a while,” Rhaast says. “We can cross the sea.”
Kayn shivers at mention of the ocean. “The rumors.” He makes the connection to Yasuo’s words easily.
It has been a long time since Rhaast has been to Shurima. Perhaps the city has not returned at all. Maybe there will be nothing there and rumors will stay rumors.
At least the journey will have company.
“I haven’t forgiven you,” Kayn murmurs. The heat washes over them in waves. He watches the light flicker on the wall, sees the last vestiges of sun through the window.
What they have is strange, Rhaast knows. A warped reflection of something sweet.
“Not yet.”
Shieda hums in agreement. “Not yet,” he whispers. But his fingers knock against Rhaast’s anyway, clumsily sneaking closer. Not like the sand dunes, not the same comfort as in the bond. Different. More raw.
They’d been at odds with each other once. Rhaast still remembers hating him. Even now he doesn’t know exactly when it became different. He’s still wrapping his head around it. It’s not as if his personality has changed, he is still a bloodthirsty, warseeking darkin. He has a body now too. Something that will last him. A form he can touch and hold with.
Now he is a bloodthirsty, warseeking darkin, with Kayn.
They will figure out their plans in the morning. There are many questions that still need to be answered. At the moment however, Rhaast will sit against the wall and listen to Shieda’s soft breathing as he rests.
Prideful, not perfect. Content.
They are alone.
And Rhaast does not feel alone.