Aarin's hand went rigid from where it lay against Nirvan's.
His breath caught in his throat, as he'd suddenly been turned into a stone statue, muscles unable to move. Nirvan noticed and turned, bringing his hand closer to envelop Aarin's palm.
"Aarin." Nirvan's voice was gentle and quiet like a cold breeze before rain. "Should we retire for the day?"
Aarin couldn't force words past the tightness in his chest; he couldn't make his throat cooperate.
Navin.
"It-" Aarin inhaled sharply. The fire had finally gone out, leaving both of them in complete darkness. And though Aarin had handled worse, the mention of that name had him on edge. He grabbed Nirvan's arm, looking around skittishly.
"Let's go inside first." He didn't wait for a response. He got up and pulled the ghost with him, his breathing growing heavier and heavier by the minute.
"No one is here." Nirvan tried to comfort him as he let Aarin drag him towards the hut. "No one can hurt you- you're safe, it's okay."
"How did I not know Navin is a ghost now!?" Aarin's voice grew louder with panic, the volume so rare for him it hurt his throat.
"He hid well." Nirvan only watched as Aarin frantically shut the door behind them and hastily lit the candles inside, almost knocking a few over in his panic.
"If he's orchestrating this- then- then we need to tell-"
Nirvan gently wrapped his arms around Aarin, not tight enough to constrict or restrain, just enough to comfort. Muffled, ragged breaths echoed in the hut as Aarin buried his face in Nirvan's chest.
When was the last time he'd been embraced this way?
The tense muscles slowly relaxed as Aarin reached up to his chest and grabbed the locket Nirvan had given him.
The symbol of Saila dug into his skin. He ground himself using the sensation and Nirvan's clove and jasmine scent.
"Why did he try to talk to me?" Aarin whispered, unable to hide the fear in his voice. If Nirvan knew what he'd done… the crimes he'd committed…
"He… he's curious," Nirvan answered. "He wants to know more about what's happening. He isn't a ghost lord, he went rogue long ago, and now he's trying to become active in the mortal realm again."
"Why now?" Aarin gasped, holding back tears. "Why when you finally found me?"
Nirvan did not respond, only placing his chin on Aarin's head and breathing deeply. Aarin focused on the rise and fall of his chest to distract himself from the rising dread and nausea in his stomach, breathing in Nirvan's fragrance to clear his mind.
"I didn't want to tell you," Nirvan fractured the silence after a long time. "I thought I could deal with him myself."
The ghost lord broke the hug and looked into Aarin's eyes.
"I never could deny you." He smiled sadly before embracing Aarin once again. "He isn't as powerful as you think. He's sneaky, but I could destroy him in a moment if need be."
Aarin shook his head, eyes widening. "No- no, I- no, you can't hurt him. You mustn't. That's your older brother, Nirvan."
"Hasn't been for a few centuries now," Nirvan muttered through grit teeth. "He doesn't have a shred of humanity left in him."
"You have your morals," Aarin insisted.
"He sure has forgotten his," the ghost lord bit out, the same quiet anger bleeding into his words. "Trying to reach you, to corrupt my territory, causing chaos for no reason other than attention."
Aarin let go of the Saila locket and held Nirvan's arm instead.
"Then you mustn't stoop that low," he pleaded. "You're better than that."
Nirvan sighed but did not respond. Aarin wanted to say something else when the ghost pulled him closer, cutting him off effectively.
As Aarin stood there, listening to Nirvan's faint heartbeat, sleep slowly crept up on him. After the initial panic had subsided, the crash hit him hard. Nirvan's comforting weight didn't help either.
At some point, his consciousness surrendered, and he went limp.
It was the sun filtering through the windows that woke Aarin up. The darkness before his eyes turned red from the stark light. He let out a soft whine and furrowed his brows before cracking an eye open.
The first thing he registered was Nirvan's absence from beside him. The second was the lack of his juniors in the hut. How long had he been asleep?
His eyes opened fully, and he scanned the room in one practiced sweep.
The only one present other than him was Shimu, circling the floor languidly and slapping random things lying around.
Nirvan had probably sent the younglings away, but where was he?
Aarin pushed himself up and stretched; his limbs were all sore, and his eyes were puffy. He stumbled outside into the harsh sunlight, and once his eyes adjusted, he noticed Nirvan was sitting by the well and plating some rice porridge.
"Ahem." Aarin cleared his throat to catch the ghost's attention. Nirvan seemed to light up at the sound of his voice and ran over with the bowl, smiling excitedly.
"Good morning." The ghost handed the food to Aarin and turned to get some water for him. "I sent your juniors away in the morning. The food might not be the best, but it should be edible; I tasted it."
It was indeed edible. Aarin didn't know how to describe what he was feeling. Doubt, fear of what was to come, but there was this warmth in his chest he couldn't explain away with the hot porridge. So he chose not to think about it, instead focusing on the task ahead. His panic had subsided and left behind dread, yes, but also some sort of clarity.
Whatever was to happen would happen; he just needed to focus on the task at hand.
"So we go to Ivara next," Aarin said. "It's on the way to Soryan, anyway."
"Actually, I was thinking," Nirvan piped up. "I want to go back to a ghost lord's territory first."
Aarin raised an eyebrow in question. Nirvan sighed in response and continued, "It's Rudhira-Bhumi. You remember Jadva, don't you?"
Of course, Aarin remembered that brute clearly. The domineering voice, the sharp eyes, the confident strength with which he'd grabbed Aarin's arm. He nodded, though his face made it clear he didn't find the memory appealing.
"Apparently…" Nirvan glanced at Aarin carefully before proceeding, "The Molten Night has begun appearing at the edges of his territory. I think we should investigate it before leaving for Soryan. It could get us a few leads."
Aarin inhaled sharply. So, Navin was still moving, fast as well, from the sounds of it. He set down the empty bowl in front of him, feeling the porridge churn unpleasantly inside. As good as the food had been, the idea of being met with that particular ghost left him queasy and disoriented. But Nirvan was right; they needed to deal with this first.
"I'll come with you," Aarin finally managed. "We'll go together, whatever happens; I want to be there."
Nirvan frowned. "Are you sure? I'm more than capable o-"
"I'm not doubting you," Aarin interrupted him. "I just… I must see him for myself. Running won't do me any good; everything always catches up to me."
From Nirvan's sorrowful smile, Aarin could tell the ghost knew he wasn't only talking about Navin.
"Alright." The ghost lord blinked slowly, almost like Shimu. "But you'll need a disguise. I could find you one as a servant, at least."
"Servant? Again?" Aarin mumbled, admittedly juvenile.
"Hm, or you could go as my bride, you're definitely beautiful enough," the ghost lord grinned. Aarin felt his heart stop for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. He imagined himself, dressed in rich, beautiful colors, adorned with jewelry, a veil over his face. He felt like he was being slowly boiled atop a fire.
"I- indecent," Aarin spat out to loud laughter. Nirvan managed to force some apologies out as he wheezed.
Once the ghost had regained his breath, he leaned against Aarin's shoulder.
"Alright, alright, I'll get you my followers' clothes, and then we'll set off for Rudhira-Bhumi."
Aarin looked down, playing with his fingers. "Mn, I just- I hope it all goes well."
"Don't worry, it will," Nirvan promised. "I'll make sure of it."
With that, the ghost stood up.
"Well, Master Aarin, I shall take my leave," Nirvan winked at him. "Try not to miss me too much. I just need to make some preparations, and then we can leave by evening."
Aarin sighed and nodded. "Mhm. I'll tend to the plants and… wait, I guess."
He wasn't used to waiting, always taking action in the first moment, even when his body begged him not to. The word felt foreign on his tongue. Nirvan smiled, his eyes crinkling up in that way they did.
"Yes, just wait for me, hm?"
With that, the ghost disappeared like a reflection in the water, only the fragrance of cloves and jasmines left behind. Aarin breathed in the scent and let it hold him together.
Alright, he would wait.