It was a strange thing to be back in a place that had once been a source of comfort and see it as nothing but the lie that it was. 

Cassian tried to ignore the thought as he sat in front of the fire the thief had started—one of his only uses, thus far. The warmth from the flames seeped into his body, chasing away the chill that had settled into his very bones as they’d walked through the rain. He heard the thief walk back downstairs, his heavy footsteps making it all too easy to keep track of him. 

“Here.” Cassian looked up in time to get hit in the face with a dusty piece of cloth. He yanked it away to glare at the thief who was already dragging a chair closer to the fire. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze to death,” he said as he sat down much too close for Cassian’s liking. 

When he looked down at the fabric still resting on his lap, he realized it was a blanket. A very dusty blanket, but still better than nothing, he supposed. Reluctantly, he wrapped it around himself and tried not to think about how it had once been Ethelred’s. Cassian was almost glad time and a healthy layer of dust had erased all trace of his scent. 

“So, you lived here with Ethelred.” 

Cassian held in a sigh at the question. Not that he hadn’t expected it to come up. If anything he was surprised the thief had stayed quiet for so long. 

“I did,” he answered simply. Foolishly, perhaps, he hoped that would be enough. 

“For how long?” 

Cassian couldn’t hold back a sigh this time. 

“I don’t know,” he said, sounding tired to his own ears. “A decade, perhaps. Likely longer.” It had been precisely twelve years and three months, but Cassian didn’t think he owed the thief any measure of honesty. 

“And, uh, how old does that make you?” Elias asked. Cassian heard the doubt in the thief’s voice and looked over at him with narrowed eyes. 

“How old do you think?” Cassian’s tone made it clear the thief had better think carefully on how to answer. For an awkward moment, there was only silence as the two men stared at each other. At last the thief answered. 

“Eighty?” 

Cassian didn’t hesitate to kick him.

“Eighty?” Cassian said, both insulted and incredulous. “Are you blind as well as stupid?” 

“At least I’m not violent,” the thief shot back, rubbing at the sore spot on his shin.

“You tried to kill me when we met,” Cassian reminded him.

“I told you I wasn’t actually going to kill you!” the thief argued, as if that really mattered when he’d held a knife to Cassian’s throat. “And it was a joke! How am I supposed to know how old you necromancers get? Your hair is white!” 

“Because I’m dying!” That shut the thief up, at least. Cassian turned away, not wanting to see the look on the thief’s face. He pulled the still dusty blanket closer around himself and stared at the fire still crackling far too cheerily. “I didn’t always look like…this.”

Cassian had almost forgotten what he’d looked like before his life had fallen apart. He remembered bits and pieces, his fractured mind perhaps taking away those memories to make it easier for him to accept his new reality. Cassian remembered he’d had dark hair instead of the bone-white mess he’d been left with. He remembered his skin had once held some color—that he’d not always been the washed out ghost he was at present. 

Most vividly, Cassian remembered his eyes—blue, like the sky on a summer day as Ethelred had told him many times. The pitch black that stared back at him the first time he looked at his reflection after escaping Ethelred had been unnerving—still was, if he were to be honest. 

“What did Ethelred do to you?” The question was asked in a ton so soft and cautious that Cassian was taken off-guard. That was likely why he bothered to answer. 

“You’re not wrong about necromancers being able to reach very advanced ages. It’s just not something that is commonly done.” At least, not as far as Cassian knew. Necromancers, even as looked down on as they were, had standards—morals. Ethelred didn’t. “It’s a complicated process and not one many know or have the ability to accomplish.”

“But Ethelred could,” Elias guessed before a look of realization came over him. “The staff.” Cassian nodded. 

“It gave him the power he needed to go through with it. After that, it was just a matter of getting the necessary materials.” He shifted in his seat and wondered if that was all he’d ever been to Ethelred. At the very least, that was all that he was to him at present.

“What sort of materials?” Elias asked in a tone that made it obvious he already had a good idea as to the answer. It was more likely that he just didn’t want to be the one to acknowledge it. 

“You can’t make life out of nothing. Something of equal value must be given up. Even when extending one’s life, the energy needed has to come from somewhere.” 

They were quiet for a while, Cassian granting the thief some time to absorb the information. He supposed it wasn’t something most people thought about—the cost of what magic could grant, of what so many wished for. Cassian himself had rarely thought of the cost of the magic Ethelred had taught him, too young to really think about it at the start and too unwilling in the later years. But Elias was different. The world he lived in was different. 

“But why you?” the thief asked after a while. “You lived with him for so long. Surely, he could have used someone else.”

“A stranger, you mean?” Reluctantly, Elias nodded. It was clear he disliked the idea, whether it was Cassian or a stranger. Most would, he supposed. “Like I said, the spell takes power. My own magic grew in the time I lived here thanks to his teachings. Ethelred likely took me in because he meant to use me.”

It was a truth Cassian had long since come to accept. At first, it hurt to realize just how deep the lies went—how little he’d meant to the one person he thought cared for him. For a while, that knowledge had been a constant ache Cassian carried with him. Now there was nothing but a sort of numbness when Cassian thought about it. Even telling Elias as much as he had wasn’t nearly as difficult as one might expect. 

“I’m surprised you’re not more determined to kill him,” Elias said, drawing a sort of amused huff from Cassian. 

“I was at some point,” he admitted. “But then I realized just how improbable that would be, given my condition. At some point after accepting that, it just didn’t matter anymore. I think it was good enough to know I’d ruined his plans.” He smiled a little, sharp and just a bit vicious. Elias laughed at that, probably because he took great joy in any sort of inconvenience Ethelred had to go through. 

And he says I’m petty, Cassian thought. 

“You’re being surprisingly forthcoming about your tragic past,” Elias’ tone held a hint of humor that was visible in his eyes when Cassian turned to him. 

“If I didn’t tell you now you’d just pester me until I did. I thought I might as well save myself the headache.” 

“You really can’t stand to be nice for too long, can you?”

“Not to you,” Cassian didn’t hesitate to answer. 

“Kindness isn’t going to make you wither away like it’s some sort of poison.” 

“I’d rather not risk it.”

Elias sighed in frustration, leaning back in his seat so that his head hung over the backrest. He looked defeated—or maybe he was just resigned to Cassian’s stubbornness. Either way, it was an amusing sight to the necromancer. For a moment, he found that he could almost stand to be in the general vicinity of the thief. 

They didn’t talk much after that, too busy scrounging up whatever food they still had and then preparing a place to spend the night. In the end, they decided to sleep close to the fire with whatever bedding they were able to shake enough dust out of. It was, at the very least, better than spending the night out in the woods. Especially with the rain still raging outside. 

Cassian only wished he weren’t plagued with memories of a brighter past as he tried to sleep. Every corner of the room sparked thoughts of a time when he’d been truly happy which turned bitter when combined with the truth he now knew. It was a relief to close his eyes and focus only on the sound of the rain and warmth of the flames burning in the fireplace. 

“I’m surprised you’re willing to stay here for the night,” Elias’ voice broke the silence in the room. Cassian didn’t bother to so much as open his eyes.

“Even with your company, it’s better than being out in the rain,” Cassian said, his voice sounding tired to his own ears. 

“Aren’t you worried Ethelred could find you here?”

Cassian had considered it, but he knew Ethelred well enough to deem the place safe. At least for the time being.

“He won’t come here,” he said, shifting around to better cover himself with his blanket. “He won’t expect me to be here, so he won’t bother looking. Ethelred will likely focus on finding the other pieces of the staff for now.” 

At least, that’s what Cassian hoped. After all, without them, Ethelred wouldn’t be able to complete the spell. Cassian would be needed as well, but he could always be replaced even if it wasn’t ideal.

“Good to know we don’t have to worry about him and his awful puppets showing up.”

“You can always run away and leave me behind if you’re that scared of them,” Cassian said, mostly just to annoy the thief. 

“I wouldn’t leave you. We’re working together now, aren’t we?” 

Cassian actually opened his eyes and peered over at Elias. The thief had his eyes closed while the light of the fire danced over his features, softening them from the wild look they were usually fixed into. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Cassian said, still surprised at the sincerity in Elias’ voice. 

“Still. Would be good if you could be nicer.” 

“Don’t ask for the impossible.” Cassian heard Elias snort and felt a small grin appear on his own face. 

“Fair enough. Good night,” Elias’ words were drowned out by a yawn. 

Cassian didn’t answer, instead listening as the thief’s beats evened out until Cassian was the only one left awake. He mulled over Elias’ words, marveling at how simple it was for him to put his trust in others. 

“Good night,” Cassian muttered, closing his eyes once again. He fell asleep feeling oddly glad to not be alone.