The desert was almost beautiful in the moonlight — endless dunes of glistening sand, shifting and sighing under the breath of the stardusted sky.

The hundreds of figures scattered across it were motionless, their features vague in the low light.

Elian was grateful for that, at least. Too many had felt familiar, and too many were no longer standing. Now, they seemed like little more than oddly shaped stones cast across a sea of sand, most half-buried by wind and dust.

“Dawn’s only a few hours away. How’s the water supply?” Silas asked, his once smooth and smoky voice brittle from days of breathing scorched, sand-blasted air.

“Less than half a skin left,” Elian whispered back. His voice was in even worse shape after he’d found Harlow a few hours ago. He’d wasted too much hydration in tears. And though he hadn’t mentioned it to Silas, his left ankle had begun to stiffen. He tried to hide the limp as he trudged a few paces behind, keeping his gaze fixed on the other man’s broad, steady back.

“We’ll make it last. Can’t be much farther now. Look,” Silas nodded toward two nearby forms, leaning against each other like they were all that kept one another standing. “There’s a lot fewer this far out.”

“Yeah,” Elian huffed — but he didn’t look. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to see their outstretched hands, straining toward something they’d never grasp. Their expressions frozen in grief, in despair. Harlow’s face had been scorched into the back of his mind — twisted and desperate, mouth open in a silent scream that would never end.

“Hey,” Silas hummed, slowing his step to match Elian’s. “Look at me. Look at my face.”

Elian was too focused on not limping — but he glanced over. Silas smiled softly, his dark eyes warm even in the cold moonlight.

“Remember this, Elian. Think about what you see.”

Elian wanted to look away, but his heart constricted, caught by the silent promise written there. The same one he’d whispered the night before they began, when the moon had been dark and the world somehow felt smaller.

“Don’t slow down so much, you big sap.” Elian scoffed, but it caught in his throat like a sob. He stumbled, and Silas’s hands were suddenly there — strong and steady, as always.

“Give me your arm,” he said, already pulling Elian toward him. He ducked under his left arm and braced a warm hand against his hip with aching tenderness as they continued, matching step for step.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fooling anyone. See? Even she’s calling you a liar.” He pointed toward a lone figure a few feet away — half-kneeling, her expression of defeated rage harshly shadowed in blue.

“Stop it, Silas. I can’t look at them anymore. I can’t—”

“You have to, Lian. Witness their effort.” Silas’s hand pressed firmer against Elian’s waist, lifting more of his weight as they climbed a steeper dune.

Elian could feel the stiffness spreading — his knee grinding like gravel with every step.

“For what? Why? Every one of them chased the promise of paradise, and all they got was an eternity of dust.” His eyes blurred, but he ignored it, spitting grit from his tongue.

“Someone needs to remember them. To carry their memory into Elarion, if not their bodies.”

“And who will remember us?” Elian whispered.

“Maybe no one. Maybe everyone.” Silas hummed again — his voice a gentle rumble against Elian’s ribs. As calm and cryptic as ever, Elian thought, with a wry smirk.

As they crested the dune, the world spilled out before them — waves of sparkling blue. Elian tried to imagine this was what the ocean looked like. Did Elarion have an ocean? He hoped so. Maybe wet sand was better than this.

Going down was somehow harder than climbing. They slipped and slid, but Silas never loosened his hold.

It wasn’t until they reached the bottom that Elian realized Silas’s hand had gone stiff.

The cold in his fingers spread straight to Elian’s chest.

“Silas,” he said — and hated how it sounded.

“It’s alright. Just the fingertips.” Silas leaned his head slightly, bumping his temple against Elian’s shoulder. His soft blonde hair tickled Elian’s jaw, and suddenly, Elian wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through it again.

But his leg had almost completely stiffened now, and it was all he could do not to drag them both down.

“Does it hurt?” Silas asked, barely a breath. They were both exhausted. Elian could see the dark circles under his green eyes.

“No.”

“You really are a terrible liar.”

Silas suddenly shifted Elian’s weight, pulling him fully onto his back mid-step. It was an impressive move, really. Elian didn’t even have a chance to resist — not that he had the strength.

“Remember when we were kids, and the others used to tease you about your name?” Silas chuckled, and Elian buried his face into his shoulder, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“Shut up.”

“I always thought it was cool. You were named after the promised land — and you always fought anyone who said it wasn’t real.”

“I got my ass kicked, more like.”

“But you always kicked back.”

“Pretty sure you kicked harder. Didn’t you break Harlow’s ribs once?”

Silas laughed — really laughed — for the first time in days. But it shattered mid-breath into a cough that shook his whole frame. Elian felt the tremors through his back and wrapped his slowly numbing arms tighter around him.

“Silas… you can stop now. We can stop.” Elian couldn’t feel his legs anymore. But he felt every staggered step Silas took — each one rougher than the last.

“You can’t stop kicking yet,” Silas huffed, his shoulders bent as they climbed another dune, the sand trailing behind them like scattered starlight.

“I can’t even feel my legs.” Elian’s face was wet again. The tears had returned, silent and unstoppable.

“Then I’ll keep kicking for you.”

“Silas,” he pleaded — but Silas just hefted him higher, settling Elian more firmly across his shoulders. Closer. Heavier. Warmer. Still flesh and blood. Still his.

The desert stretched out around them, vast and silent. No statues now. No end. Just moonlight.

Silas finally faltered, and they toppled together into the cool sand.

One breath.

Two.

A few more, and it would be over. They’d stopped moving — and that meant the end had come.

“Elian,” Silas whispered, pulling him closer.

Elian realized his chest had already hardened, all the way to his neck. His jaw.

“No,” he cried — but no sound came.

“You were always my Elarion.”

Silas pulled him into a kiss, and Elian let him.

One breath.

Two.

The breeze shifted, and starlight drifted over the last two figures — forever entwined in a final moment of paradise.