Silence.
Everything was dark; Aarin was floating in his own mind, and he couldn't hear a thing. He blinked, though he couldn't tell if it'd worked, considering the darkness didn't change. He blinked again and tried to reach ahead.
His palm met something solid, substantial, real.
Sensation.
Aarin awoke to reality with a start. He could feel the fabric on his eyelids, still wrapped around his head, though loosely. And he couldn't hear anything past his heartbeat. Panting, Aarin hastily patted Nirvan's shoulder. The cotton was removed from his ears, and his blindfold was lowered. His senses had barely registered his surroundings when he recognized what he was looking at, and the tension left his body completely.
Everything was too bright, colors so saturated they could've blinded him, but compared to the oppressive weight of his own mind, it was peaceful. He heard lively music, laughter of children, the bustling of crowds, all together in a cacophony.
But he realized that he heard no cry, no scream.
Thousands of ghosts, smiling, laughing, weeping with joy, stood around him. He knew they were still in the chasm, but around him stood the beautiful city that Yethra had once been.
Thank you. The ghosts all spoke. Aarin felt tears forming, and this time he did not try to hold them in.
The people of Yethra, finally free.
Finally… at peace.
As if a candle had been blown out, all the souls disappeared at once. Aarin looked up and met Nirvan's eyes. Many things remained unspoken. 'I'm tired', 'Thank You', 'We did this.' Aarin smiled before a coughing fit took over. He heard Nirvan curse softly, and then they were in the air. The ghost gracefully floated up and landed outside the chasm gently. Aarin saw that color had returned to the city. Though the paints were worn, they were there. The trees looked more alive, with hints of young, green leaves here and there.
He still couldn't believe it.
An entire city of souls, all freed in a single day.
He closed his eyes and just breathed. The oppressive weight of corruption was gone. Birds were calling- real ones, not ones from painful memories.
"Water," Nirvan murmured, and Aarin felt something cool press against his lips. "Slowly."
Aarin obeyed, sipping carefully. The water was clean, cold, and soothing against his raw throat. Some of it spilled down his chin; his hands weren't steady enough to help guide the jug.
He noticed, once he opened his eyes, that his hands were bloody. Nirvan seemed to come to the same conclusion, and he didn't look pleased at all. The ghost silently leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Aarin's knuckles. The cuts closed up, skin mending itself, until not even a scar remained underneath the blood.
"Better?" The ghost asked.
Aarin nodded, "Much."
"Well." Nirvan smiled mischievously. "Now I get bragging rights over your disciples."
Aarin laughed in response, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hands.
Halfway on the path back to the temple, Aarin tapped Nirvan's cheek.
"Set me down," he mumbled without meeting the ghost's eye. Nirvan had carried him all the way here, and now that strength had returned to him, the sheer embarrassment of the situation hit him like a physical blow.
"Why?" The ghost hummed. "Are you not comfortable? Should I change my hold?"
"No, no, it's not that," Aarin waved his hand. "It's just… just- just set me down."
Nirvan sighed dramatically.
"Your legs must be sore from the ordeal.," Tthe ghost had a playful shine in his eyes., "Surely, it'd be better for me to carry you back home, Master Aarin?"
Aarin's eyes widened in surprise, breath caught in his throat. He tried to find the words, but nothing came out. He covered his mouth with his hand and looked away, face awfully hot.
"Brat," he muttered, "I- I can walk just fine on my own!"
Nirvan laughed so hard that Aarin could feel the ghost's chest shaking from where he was pressed against it, before he gently let Aarin down.
Aarin realized quickly enough that his legs were still shaky, but he held on. He'd rather walk on weak limbs than have his junior carry him around.
"Are you feeling alright?" Nirvan questioned as they walked side by side.
Aarin nodded absent-mindedly, distracted by the wave of nostalgia. They had walked these streets once, together just like this. Aarin would march with grace, his hands neatly by his side. Nirvan, on the other hand, would walk backwards. Aarin had told him time and time again not to, getting the same excuse every time.
"How shall I look at you, then?"
Nirvan had taken to walking backwards yet again, as if plucked right out of his memories but older, softer…eyes never straying from Aarin's form. They were both centuries old, but even so, the ghost smiled like the weight of time didn't weigh on him. Aarin felt his face grow warmer and looked down.
"You're not hurt?" he asked the ghost.
"It could've been worse." Nirvan shrugged. "You took most of the brunt. They stopped trying to attack me at some point. I imagine it was once you started getting close to the core."
Nirvan stopped walking.
"Speaking of, who did you see?"
Aarin took in a deep breath, steadying himself, and told him everything. If there was anyone who deserved to know, it was Nirvan.
"So I guess we must figure out where this golden palace is." The ghost hummed.
Aarin nodded. "I shall ask for Niryati's guidance."
"Enough about that." Nirvan grinned. "For now, just focus on relaxing and getting better, yeah?"
"Still slacking off after all this time?" Aarin raised an eyebrow.
"What can I say!" Nirvan sighed. "Old habits die hard!"
Aarin rolled his eyes and gently slapped Nirvan's shoulder. The ghost let out a dramatic 'Ah!' of pain and almost fell over.
Laughing like time had somehow been turned, like they were still stuck somewhere when Yethra still thrived, Aarin wanted this feeling to never end. Selfish as he was, he wished someone would free him the way the Chasm of Yethra had been.
Nirvan looked at him, picking up on the melancholy. He had always been quite perceptive when it came to Aarin. The ghost slung an arm over Aarin's shoulders, and he didn't pull away this time.
"You've done all you can," Nirvan murmured softly., "Don't let anything weigh on you;, you've earned the peace."
"You don't need to comfort me, Nirvan," Aarin sighed., "I'm… happy. I truly am. Repaying for all I've done, what more can a soul like me ask for?"
He noticed how Nirvan's gaze changed, brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together tightly. He clapped his hands instead of letting the ghost a chance to respond.
"'Enough about that,'" Aarin said in a mocking, singing voice, and chuckled.
Nirvan blinked in confusion before cackling out, "I do not sound like that!"
The sounds of their laughter and bickering echoed in the city, dead for centuries, now so very alive.