Shining through the fractured clouds, the morning sun poured its soft golden light over laid-back forests and lush valleys, but the tension in the air remained unmelted. Eli stood by the riverbed just beyond the trees, feeling the cool lap of its caress against bare feet as he flicked his eyes downstream over betraying waters swirling about his ankles.
He had not told Amon about the dream.
The boy who looked like him.
The voice that whispered you will remember everything.
At least, not yet.
Cold cleansing waters stirred little comfort against the ache buried deep in his chest. The ache that was the knowing-something was coming, that there was no way to go back.
A gentle rustle behind him told him he wasn't alone.
He didn't turn.
"Early departure."
"I couldn't sleep."
There was a pause. "Neither could I."
Eli continued to stare at the river. "Amon, you're getting weaker."
Amon moved closer, his feet silent on the stones. "You've noticed."
"I notice everything about you."
Amon stepped into the river beside him, whole with a calm, heavy presence: "It's the price of what we did. The bond. My divinity protected me. Now it protects you."
He turned around to face him. `Let me give it back then.`
Amon shook his head. `No. I chose this. I chose you.`
`But you are hurting.`
`I've hurt for centuries. This-this is different.` He was staring somberly across the water. `This pain carries a shimmer of hope.`
Eli took his hand and held onto it.
"I want to do something for you," Amon said, gazing at their twined fingers.
Eli waited.
Amon looked at him with a strange kind of softness. `I want to show you who I was. Before I fell.`
Eli blinked. `How?`
"Through me. Through touch."
He lifted their joined hands and pressed Eli's palm against his chest, just over his heart.
"There's a memory buried here," he said, "One that's tied to both of us."
Eli's hand trembled. "You think I'm part of your past?"
"I know you are."
The water stilled around them.
Amon whispered some word—some sound that didn't belong to any language Eli knew, but it echoed through his bones as if it had always been there.
And then—everything began to change.
Eli blinked and gasped.
The forest was gone. The river was gone. The pain in Amon's eyes was gone.
They now stood in an endless hall of marble, open to a sky where stars so bright they sang glowed. No smoke rose from suspended braziers where white fire raged. An unseen orchestra played music in the air thick with perfume and holiness.
And in the center of it all? A younger Amon.
He stood radiant, crowned in gold, wings spread the length of two suns.
He was not alone.
A young boy knelt before him.
No, not a boy-a mere mortal. Hair like Eli's, a voice like Eli's.
Eli's heart stopped.
That was him.
Or someone who looked exactly like him.
"Do you swear it?" Amon's former self asked.
The boy nodded. "I do."
"Even if it costs you everything?"
"Yes."
"I cannot love you the way you want," Amon said. "Not here. Not under their eyes."
"Then take me somewhere they won't see," the boy replied.
Amon smiled. "You always were too brave for your own good."
And the scene shifted again.
This time, a meadow. The two of them—himself and the angel—together lying beneath a silver moon; laughing, touching, whispering promises.
Then—fire.
Blades.
Wings tearing through clouds.
The boy screamed.
Amon fought—ripping through the air like a storm—but there were too many. And when the boy fell, pierced by a sword of light…
Amon broke.
The sky shattered.
He screamed, wings burning, heart torn, and the fire that erupted consumed from half the heavens.
Eli reeled, and they were suddenly back at the river.
He gasped.
He was sweating.
Amon still held him, arms locked tight around his waist.
"You remember," Amon murmured.
Eli could hardly speak. "That was me."
"It was your soul."
"I died for you."
"Yes."
Eli buried his face in Amon's chest. "Why didn't I remember until now?"
"Because you were reborn," Amon explained. "Mortal again. A second chance."
Eli looked up. "A second chance for us?"
"If we are brave enough to take it."
They kissed again, though it was neither rushed nor frantic.
It was a gentle way for two souls to say hello after lifetimes of separation.
Amon caressed him that time with tenderness and respect.
They moved along the riverbank, slowly and quietly, as though the universe itself held its breath. The birds were silent; the leaves did not rustle; even the river stopped.
Every caress between them was an echo of memory and hope. Every kiss was a promise.
And when Amon laid Eli down on the grass, when their bodies came together again, it was not the lust of strangers; it was the rekindling of something ancient and true.
A long while afterward, Amon held him.
"I never thought I would find you again," he said.
"You did," Eli softly answered. "You will always."
Amon's voice broke. "Still, if they try to take me again?"
"I will find you."
Amon kissed his forehead. "Touched too gently… I can still feel you."
Eli smiled, drowsy and warm in his arms. "Good."
As sleep claimed him, Eli heard a voice again—this time not from the heavens, not from the dark.
But from within.
You chose him once. You'll choose him again.
And he did.