Chapter Text
The past few weeks felt increasingly fast-paced and stressful, the threat of the Wild Hunt increasing in numbers and activity at a rapid pace. The Lightkeepers were working overtime to keep the threat at bay. Still, with the sheer amount of physical activity and the change in seasons, many of the Ratnik were falling ill and unable to perform their duties safely. To make up for this difference, Flins took to covering his coworkers.
This was never an easy task, and Flins found that even he was struggling to cover such a vast area in such a short period of time. He still managed, and with the help of his fae abilities, he was able to keep up with his squad’s patrols in record time. Unfortunately, being a fae did not cover for everything, and to his knowledge, the creatures of this world had yet to find a way to slow down time. The Ratnik had to make up the difference himself, pushing his powers to lengths he wasn’t sure they could go safely, but did his comrades not risk their own fragile lives to defend this land every time the Wild Hunt struck? Flins had a regular advantage over his fellow Ratniki, and here he could use it to help them more than ever.
Flins skipped across the desolate fog, dodging the blasts of bright magenta flames from the mindless creatures currently ambushing him. It was easy to avoid most of the attacks; all the fae had to do was release his human disguise and take up the form of bright blue flames, which could pass through physical strikes with ease.
Above the battle taking place in the fog, dark clouds that had been hanging for days before began to rumble, and combined with the cold winds, a storm pelted down on the scene below. Flins sensed it before it began, but made no moves to take cover. The rain was an inconvenience for sure, but in previous times, it had only proven to be a small issue. Disregarding the weather for now, Flins continued to battle.
Today, the Hunt was relentless and more violent than ever. They brute-forced all of Flins’ fire attacks and were seemingly more resistant to his physical blows, leaving him to slowly chip away at the beasts with the strength he had left. Suddenly, Flins’ lantern flickered pink, and the fae felt a dramatic drop in his strength, a sickly fatigue covering his limbs. It was a moment of weakness, and one that allowed one beast to strike and land a blow with their longsword. It broke through a few layers of skin, leaving Flins grabbing his now-injured side with one hand, and his other gripping his lantern tighter. Gritting his teeth, Flins summoned what strength he had, and his lantern burst into its familiar blue once again. A strange phenomenon that was then, when it had once been that purple-pink color just seconds earlier. Flins filed it away to investigate later and continued to defend his land.
• ───────────────── •
Varka released a loud sigh, letting his claymore drop to the ground, the handle leaning against his side as he recuperated for a moment. He and a young lightkeeper had just defeated a rather sizeable horde of the Wild Hunt. To be perfectly honest, Varka hadn’t expected his night to go in this direction at all. He dropped by the Flagship that evening, prepared to warm himself up with a few drinks after all this bleak weather left him and his crew bundling up and hunkering down. But after spending only one hour in the tavern, a Lightkeeper approached him, asking for his help. He recognized the lad as one Illuga, known to be a rather righteous fellow. Apparently, a person the two had known in common, a certain Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins, had been reported as being absent for a few too many meetings and neglecting to turn in his reports. The man was known for being a loner, but his work was usually efficient, and his paperwork was at least turned in at a reasonable time on most occasions. Also, when Illuga checked his usual abode at the cemetery, Flins was nowhere to be found. It could be reasoned that he was out fighting the Wild Hunt, which would certainly answer the question of who exactly was covering the shifts of the apparently ailing Lightkeepers. However, both Varka and Illuga found that they were not too fond of the idea of a comrade being unaccounted for in a crisis like this. Admittedly, Varka had not known Flins for very long, but he was not the sort of man to let a situation like this unravel to tragedy if he could stop it. It simply wasn’t in his nature to neglect someone in need.
Illuga huffed in exhaustion, sliding down the side of a rock to the ground. Varka offered him a look of sympathy. The man was running himself ragged with worry, not to mention he was also probably covering more shifts than usual, considering the situation the Lightkeepers were currently in. “I-I’m sorry, sir, if I knew that the Wild Hunt would attack us here, I wouldn’t have brought-” Illuga stammered, fidgeting nervously. Varka put his hand up to stop him, shaking his head. “It’s alright, you didn’t know”. Illuga then gave up, deflating on himself as he eased out an exhausted sigh and pulled out his lantern. Varka sympathized with the young man, given how spread thin the knights themselves had been in recent years. The Grandmaster briefly pondered the well-being of the knights left in Mondstadt, no doubt even busier in his absence.
“He’s nearby.”
Varka’s head snapped up, looking to Illuga, who was observing his lantern closely. “How can you tell?”
“All oath lanterns can detect the lanterns of the other Ratniki,” He explained, getting back to his feet. “Let’s hurry”.
Varka nodded, following the other as he pressed on.
After a while, the two came upon a rather dark scene, signs of destruction shown by large pieces of shattered rock strewn about among the fading bodies of fallen wild hunt soldiers. In the center of the scene was a single off-color body, familiar dark blue locks that flooded atop a bundle of the signature black garb often worn by the Lightkeepers. Both Varka and Illuga ran to the body, one attending to the left and the other to the right.
“Hey, pal-” Varka’s hands hovered over the fallen body carefully, unsure of what he should be doing, and attempting to get their attention. Illuga’s approach was quite different; in contrast, the young man immediately pressed two fingers to the body’s vitals, whispering to himself. The body grumbled immediately, swatting the young Ratnik’s hands away. “Sir Flins!” Illuga shouts as the other man lifts his head slowly.
Flins neglected to respond for several moments, eyes glossed over and stuck gazing ahead into nothingness. Illuga tries again, waving his hand in front of his elder’s face. Flins reacts then, turning to the two men by his side. “M-my apologies, gentlemen-” he interrupts himself by ducking into his fist to cover a coughing fit. Illuga and Varka flinched and gave him a little bit of space until he was finished, after which Illuga went back to hovering over the man. Varka left him to it, but his eyes caught onto the ground below, where a small puddle of blood was reaching the bottom of his boots. “Uh, Mr. Flins?” Varka gestured to Illuga, who came around to his side, and upon seeing the blood, the Ratnik inhaled sharply. After a moment, Flins caught up with what the two were looking at and awkwardly chuckled. “Pay that no mind-It’s nothing-” “It certainly doesn’t look like nothing to me”. Illuga immediately interrupted. “May I?” Varka intruded, sensing that the two may begin to argue. From what he understood, a man was injured in front of him, and he needed to help him without the afflicted straining themself with loud displays of emotion. Flins physically bristled, shaking his head quickly. “No-no-I’m okay, I promise, just a scratch.” The Ratnik stood quickly, shaking off the two fretting over his well-being. Unfortunately, this proved to be the wrong choice to make in the situation, as Flins was left reeling from the sudden movement. To his mortification, he lost his balance and tumbled against Varka’s bigger frame. The blonde was surprised, but his reflexes acted against his will, and he held an arm around the other’s waist to keep him upright.
“Sir Flins-” Illuga tried again, eyes running over the two. Varka thought he saw a flash of a complicated emotion flicker through the young man’s expression, but it was replaced again by the worry he had previously worn. Varka shook his head, thoughts returning to the matter at hand-or rather, in his hands-Flins, whose eyes were squeezed shut and who was breathing rapidly. Varka wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but seeing the Lightkeeper that he had barely known for much longer than a month’s legs wobble and give out beneath him was not especially on his mind. Luckily, Varka managed to catch his head in one elbow and break Flins’ fall. His other arm snuck under Flins’ knees, and he lifted him bridal-style. Illuga’s expression was one of surprise, both his hands outstretched in anticipation. “Ah-we need to get him to a medic,” he spoke quickly, picking up his and Flins’ lanterns, which were left on the ground. Varka and Illuga both jumped at a wheezy noise that left Flins’ throat. “No medic,” He protested, while his eyes were screwed shut and his teeth clenched. “Just-just take me to the light-lighthouse”. He managed to get out.
Varka and Illuga made eye contact, clearly not wanting to respect the other man’s wishes. “Fine,” Illuga started, a frustrated look settling over his face. “On one condition”. Flins made a noise of acknowledgment, a small sound close to a whine that left Varka’s heart clenching. The sound must have had a similar effect on Illuga, who hesitated to respond for a second too long. “Uhm-yes, the condition being that you let me tend to your wounds”. The young man spoke with his head held high, as if physically trying to give himself confidence. Varka fought to keep from chuckling at the action, one that reminded him a little too much of a certain young cavalry captain from way back. Good times.
Flins’ response was again delayed, and another whine of acknowledgement was all Illuga needed to hear before he nodded and led the way to the cemetery.