Therios stands next to the castle walls, armed with Knight’s sword, and a pack bursting with goods from the distraught cookware in the kitchen. The flowers openly weep and wave goodbye. Silly creatures. Vanth is not going to weep or wave or do any of those overemotional things. He hands Therios a plain wooden torch without any theatrics.

“To light my way?”

“Any path you wish to take will be illuminated for you. Including,” Vanth’s throat closes and he has to cough to clear it, “including, the path back here. If you ever wish to return.”

Therios sweeps Vanth up in an embrace. Vanth freezes, his breath catching. The embrace is fierce, almost bruising. He refuses to melt, to let it soften his resolve. Therios has to leave and Vanth – Vanth has to stay.

“You could come with me,” he says into Vanth’s ear.

How Vanth wishes he wouldn’t have said those tempting words, sweet as honey, as painful as an overdose of poppy.

“I can’t.”

“Tell me what trouble keeps you here and I will either solve it or slay it.”

Vanth squeezes his eyes shut and lets the words soothe him even as they flay him.

“I wish it were possible. If anyone could help me, it would be you. But your brothers need you far more than I do.”

He soaks Therios in for one more moment – funny, how in a place where time doesn’t move, the moments are ticking by incredibly fast – and then sets him free.

“Go,” Vanth whispers.

Therios pulls back, looks him in the eye, as serious as Vanth’s ever seen him, and then presses a chaste kiss against Vanth’s lips. He walks backwards, as if getting his fill of Vanth standing there stupid and lost at the castle walls, and then with a salute, disappears into the woods. The torch flares to life automatically, throwing light upon the path that will take him where he wishes to go. Eventually, even that light disappears, and Vanth is standing alone in his unchanging garden, feeling utterly changed within.

He walks back, legs numb, and eventually collapses in the flower beds, and does not cry. The flowers comfort him anyway, soft leaves brushing against his cheeks. The Crying Camellias end up doing enough crying for everyone.