Chasing Back His Beloved Beast Husbands

"Be careful, Sseraphis. Do you even know how to row a boat?" Aeltharion scolded. "Or are you trying to drown us to our deaths?"

After convincing them to seal off their beastly powers and have a normal day, he took them out on the boat and insisted on rowing the boat himself.

Aeltharion had offered repeatedly to row the boat for them but Sseraphis refused and threw a tantrum so he had no choice but to let him do as he pleased.

"I said that I wanted a moment to honor my friend. I didn’t mean I wanted to deliver the message face to face," Nytherael said, one hand clutched the seat and the other the wall of the boat. He held on.

Sseraphis kept making a mess of his idea of rowing. The boat kept swaying right to left like it was going to tip over at any given moment and they’ll fall in.

"I want to do something nice for both of you. Can’t you just be nice about it?"

"Nice? More like murderous?" Nytherael argued.

He went silent instantly. The light and fear in his eyes faded away. How could it not? He was just reminded of the scene at the underwater palace that cost him his best friend in a blink of an eye.

He changed his mind. "On second thought, send me back. I just want... Aah!"

Sseraphis tipped the boat even harder and he couldn’t help but scream out in panic.

"Are you intentionally trying to kill us?"

"No, I am not."

Sseraphis said and continued attempting to row properly only for the boat to sway even harder.

Aeltharion grabbed hold of Nytherael’s shoulders and consoled. "Look at it this way, even if he kills us...at least, we get to die together," he said.

The word die brought back the image of Rhysandor in his brain. With much difficulty he closed his eyes and pushed the image away.

He stared into the open ocean and took deep breaths. The water was endless and he couldn’t see anything further in the distance. He wondered if they rowed to the other end, if there was a chance he’d get to see his friend again, would eternity on the water bridge the gap between them and hasten their reunion?

Nytherael found himself dazed as he stared out to the horizon. His eyes burnt with the desire of seeing his friend suddenly appear and call whatever happened a joke. He was ready to laugh. Even if he couldn’t, he’d force himself to laugh.

Anything would beat the dead silent that seemed to have taken over the world now that he was gone.

A figment of his friend, Rhysandor, appeared levitating over the water and smiling at him. Nytherael saw it so clearly that it felt like Rhysandor had come to see him one more time. "I am not ready," he confessed.

"You’re not ready for what?" Aeltharion asked, thinking Nytherael was addressing him.

"I’m not ready..." Nytherael spoke again.

Aeltharion blinked. He looked away from Nytherael and onto Sseraphis. Sseraphis blinked once, the oar slipped from his hands with a dull knock against the side of the boat before drifting loosely in the water, still tethered by a worn leather cord.

The tiny vessel, finally freed from his disastrous attempts at rowing, surrendered itself to the tide. It rocked gently now, no longer violently, only breathing with the sea as though the ocean itself had sensed something fragile unfolding within it.

Silence settled over them. The kind of silence that came after a funeral, when everyone had already exhausted every comforting lie and all that remained was the unbearable truth.

Aeltharion slowly turned back toward Nytherael. The smile he’d been forcing since the morning quietly disappeared.

"Heartfire?"

Nytherael continued staring into the horizon. He didn’t answer him. The apparition of his friend remained there.

Rhysandor floated above the endless sea, exactly as he had always looked. Long hair dancing with the wind. His familiar smile carrying that infuriating mixture of confidence and warmth. His eyes held no accusation, no sorrow. It had only peace.

The sight shattered him. "I am not ready..." Nytherael whispered again. His voice barely reached them. "I thought... I thought there would be more time."

His fingers loosened from the edge of the boat. "I knew we weren’t immortal but..." A dry laugh escaped him and it sounded broken.

"We’ve fought wars... we’ve watched clans rise and disappear... survived curses... betrayals... calamities that erased entire civilizations..." His smile trembled. "So why..."

His voice cracked completely. "Why did I convince myself that he’d always come back?"

The illusion smiled exactly as Rhysandor always had whenever Nytherael worried too much. It hurt Nytherael to watch that smile because it wasn’t real.

"I never thanked him enough," his said. His breathing became uneven. "I complained whenever he dragged me into trouble or when he’d stop for a bottle of wine while we are running away after I get us in trouble..." A watery laugh escaped him.

His eyes never drifted away from the sight of a face that seemed familiar yet so distant. "I told him he talked too much sometimes," he bit his lip and broke into another laugh. "He did."

His lips quivered. "He never knew when to stop talking..." His chest hitched. "And now..." The words refused to come.

His throat closed. Nytherael would give the world to hear Rhysandor speak again. To be nagged by him endlessly, to sit down for a chat and have good wine.

"Now the world is too quiet..."

Aeltharion lowered himself beside him without speaking. He knew this kind of grief because grief always robbed people of language before it robbed them of tears.

Nytherael stared harder. The illusion began fading into sunlight dancing across the waves. "No..."

His voice became desperate. "No... don’t... don’t leave me..."

His hand reached toward the ocean. "Stay..." The image continued dissolving. "I wasn’t finished..."

His fingertips trembled in empty air. "I still had things to tell you."

The sea answered only with gentle waves. It didn’t feel for him at all to hold Rhysandor in place so that he could finish.

"No..." His breathing turned ragged. Nytherael reached forward, struggling to cling to the image of the one whom he’ll never see smiling at him again. A beast whose voice would forever remain a sweet-and-sour memory in his head. "I never said goodbye."

His voice finally broke. "I never got to tell you..." The tears came before he could stop them. "I loved having you beside me," he admitted.