Chapter Text
There was no moon tonight.
Alto hesitated only steps out from the door to the barracks and peered around in the darkness. When the moon was full, this place lit up with a light almost as bright as morning. Now the only lights were cast by the lamps set up at intervals along the path and the small lantern he held in one hand. Those were bright enough, but the shadows around them were deep enough to give him pause. Familiar things seemed to twist and darken in gnarled, nightmarish ways. But this place was safe. Nothing would reach for him, nothing would trip him, nothing would try to reach into his chest and...
He shook himself out and forced his breathing to grow steady. He was fine. Nothing was going to happen to him here.
Alto forced himself to walk. It was a long trek into the palace and upwards into its heights, especially when he found himself jumping at every noise and shadow. But he clenched his teeth and kept his feet moving. Part of him wanted to stay close to the ground, maybe walk the gardens or sit in the Tuning Hall where it was quiet, but that wouldn't solve the problem. Avoiding this would only make it worse. So he climbed upwards, listening to the echoes of his own footsteps bouncing along the wide marble staircases. The rich carpets and tapestries that lined the walls lit up with brilliant color as his lantern reached them, then sank back into grey and finally black. He had to fight back the sensation that they stopped existing the second he left them behind, a feeling as though he was moving through a space that only existed as long as he was casting light.
Finally he stepped out a final door and into clean, fresh air. Wind gusted through the pillars, tugging at the edges of his coat with a promise of oncoming autumn. This was the tallest of the towers, largest in circumference, meant to be a grand, central iteration of the smaller ones that encircled the palace. Alto's lantern shed light over an intricate and detailed mosaic floor. Colored tiles radiated outward from the center in hypnotizing geometric designs. If he stepped to the edge, he was sure he would see even the furthest reaches of Lambert, lit up with fluttering lanterns that mimicked the stars sprinkled overhead.
This wasn't where it had happened. That tower would be under reconstruction for some time yet. But it was good enough.
Alto doused the lantern. Darkness fell over him like a cloak. The delicate mandala beneath his feet disappeared. The pillars around him were now visible only as black, starless spaces against the starlit sky. An abruptly cold wind caught him, and he shivered, folding his arms in tight. That breeze seemed to carry voices with it as though from a great distance, memories of the things that had happened in a place very much like this one. But there was nothing here. No seething shadows. No bloodied faces. No imposing figure in white and gold, standing on the dais at the other side of the tower and laughing in a way he had never laughed before.
A rush of wings startled Alto out of his reverie. His blade all but sprang into his hand. He whirled towards the sound and charged, teeth already locked in a battle snarl as he brought the sword around in a deadly arc of steel—
"Alto!"
Alto jerked his arm back. He pulled the blow just enough for the silhouette to dodge to the side and avoid it. The sudden redirection of his own energy made him stagger, and then only thing that kept him from falling on his face was the pair of strong hands that caught him under the arms. His blade went clattering across the tile and out of his reach. He hung there for a second and forced himself to breathe. Forced his lungs to move slowly and evenly.
"Are you alright, Alto?"
Alto found his footing and pulled away from the hands supporting him. "I'm fine," he said, shaking himself out. "I'm... What are you doing up here?"
Xeno drew back a pace at the sharpness of his voice. He held his posture as steady as if nothing had happened, but Alto could hear the agitated rustling of his feathers. "I needed some air," Xeno said. "There aren't many better places for that than the sky. I saw a light appear here and thought I should investigate, just in case."
A faint golden glow lit up between them. It took Alto a moment to realize the glow came from Xeno's oustretched hand. It grew brighter by the moment, spilling warmth over the edges of his palm, and lit up his face in a surprisingly steady way. Alto looked away until his eyes adjusted, and then glanced back at Xeno, who watched him with slightly raised eyebrows, asking the obvious question he wasn't ready to answer.
"It's starting to get cold up here," he said instead, folding his arms in close against his chest. "There's nothing to block the wind. We should probably—"
Xeno grabbed his arm in one vise-tight hand. He extended one massive wing between Alto and the edge of the tower. The breeze dropped off dramatically, and Alto locked his jaw tight, looking away. "There," Xeno said. "Listen to me, Alto. I don't need the power of a Conductor to see that you're lying to me. If it's nothing I can help with, then please, at least tell me that much."
He looked...earnest, in a way Alto hadn't seen from him in a long time. In a way not even Elcrest had seen from him in even longer. Alto bit down on the urge to tear away from Xeno's grip. This wasn't the same as last time. It wouldn't end the way it had before.
"I had a nightmare about the Anthem Program," he finally said, and felt Xeno full-body flinch. "It's— I didn't want you to feel guilty. You've already have enough of that. But I haven't been up in any of the towers since that day, and I thought...well, it's probably time I did something about this instead of just letting myself be scared for the rest of my life."
Xeno drew away from Alto. His wings pulled inward and slicked down against his back, and he looked out across the mosaic floor, and Alto found himself immediately missing the way those wings had shielded him. The wind was beginning to get colder now.
"I understand," Xeno said in a very low voice. "If it will make it easier for you, I can take my leave."
Alto hesitated. Part of him, and not a small part, wanted to tell Xeno to go. It was hard enough standing here in the darkness and remembering without him here, making the images that much more real just by his presence. But what good would that do either of them?
"I should know better," Alto said instead, keeping his arms folded close. "If it was one of the witches up here, I'd never let them get away with shutting me out, would I?"
Xeno smiled, just a little. "No. You wouldn't." He eased himself closer again and extended one wing. Alto stepped forward gratefully and rubbed his hands together, and that same little smile flashed across Xeno's face. "You really aren't built for the cold at all, are you?"
Alto grimaced. "Not really." He hesitated, then leaned just a little up against Xeno's wing. A startled ripple went through his feathers, puffing them out against Alto's face. "This is pretty nice, though. These things must keep you really warm."
"They're good for that, at least," Xeno said with a little laugh. His other wing twitched, and then it swept around as well, encircling Alto completely. Here in this small, warm cavern, the only light came from the warm seed Xeno held in his palm—and then he closed his hand, and even that vanished, drenching them both in soft darkness.
"Listen," Xeno said. "What do you hear?"
Alto closed his eyes. He could hear the whispering of the wind between the columns of the tower and the rustle of Xeno's shifting feathers. He could hear the murmuring of trees far below them. And faintly, soft as a whisper, came the sound of a distant melody.
"You hear her, right?" Xeno's voice was quiet now. "Even though the moon is on the opposite end of the planet from here, you can still hear her. Memories like the ones you have are much the same. When you've been hurt this badly, even if the event itself is far away now, there are always echoes. You can't just forget. Something happens, and the echoes come bouncing up to remind you of that hurt, and reminding yourself that it's over now doesn't help, because it isn't over. Not while you can still hear it so clearly."
His hands came to rest on Alto's shoulders. "Building new memories can help soften those old ones. But that takes a very long time and a lot of hard work. You have to be willing to face those things and find ways to paint over them with new colors."
Alto grimaced faintly. "That's part of why I wanted to come up here, I think," he said. "If I just keep running away, that's all I'm going to do for the rest of my life."
He felt more than saw Xeno nod. "It's a good start. But as you've told me so many times, there's no reason for you to do it alone." The grip on Alto's shoulders tightened ever so slightly. "You said to me once that you wanted to become the sort of person I could rely on. You've succeeded, more than I ever expected. I was fragmented so badly that I didn't know who I was any more, but you've helped me put myself back together. And maybe it's selfish to say, after everything I've done, but I want to do the same for you."
Alto breathed out very slowly. Here in the darkness, surrounded by warmth and a gentle voice, the frantic pulse at the back of his skull was beginning to slow. Part of him still shivered at the cries and screams that ticked in the back of his mind. But here, right now, he could focus on the steady hands on his shoulders and the sound of the wind, and the faint melody that drifted on the breeze, and feel safe.
"You're doing a pretty good job of that, too," Alto said with a little laugh. He fed his arms around Xeno's waist and hugged him tightly, and he felt Xeno's spine go rigid, before he finally relaxed and let his own arms drape down Alto's back.
Somewhere the wind faded. A warmer breeze began to rise, curling gently around everything it touched. Far to the east came a faint blue light. The two figures wrapped up in each other on the high tower didn't see it just yet, but they didn't need to. It would come whether they knew it or not, whether they were ready for it or not.
The sun would rise.