Arylos stoked the flames of the hearth as they slowly roared to life, spitting sparks as the wood snapped softly from the heat. Satisfied with the small fire, he set the iron rod to the side and reached for his staff, slowly lifting himself up with a groan as his joints popped. As he rose up, he turned towards the bedroom to the side and leaned against the stone door frame, peaking through the slightly open door. He watched Iris sleep soundly in the bed, snoring softly while wrapped in blankets of various furs. The Titan cracked a soft smile, happy that Iris could find some peaceful rest at last. His instincts kicked in as he watched her, feeling the comfort of her presence just by watching her sleep.

And yet deep down, he couldn’t shake an anxiety that sunk its teeth into him. His smile slowly faded as he felt the familiar sensation of fear bite him. He hated this sensation; this feeling of not knowing, this feeling of being too afraid to move. He was afraid that if he was too afraid to act now, what about when it is required of him? What if Iris finds herself in harm’s way again and he can’t do anything?

He closed his eyes as he began to remember that she was in harm’s way when she chased him through the radiated streets and he did nothing to protect her. He didn’t know just how much Iris had been exposed but if it was enough to cause his dying body harm, he could only imagine what it did to her. Maybe halving her lifespan was the best case scenario; maybe she only had a few years left, or maybe a few months in the worst case. The fearful Titan opened his eyes and looked at Iris once more, wondering just what would happen if he lost her.

With a deep breath, Arylos pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked towards the hearth. He stepped close to it and leaned his forehead against the stone wall, closing his eyes as his breath wavered. He rubbed his forehead against the stone, trying desperately to calm himself down as he gently slammed his fist against the stone wall. Arylos’s body cried out for him to let the pain out, and yet once more he couldn’t find the strength. More and more, Arylos found himself trapped within the maze of his own mind, desperately searching for a way out and following any wall that he could so he could finally escape and feel the sun.

The last Titan was terrified, and he didn’t know just what it was like to be afraid.

Arylos bit down on his teeth as he let the fear run through him as he became afraid of the monster he was becoming again. Yet before he could contain himself, he heard a shuffling sound to his side. As if nothing happened, Arylos gathered himself, burying his pain and fears deep inside of him. He looked to his side and he saw a tired Iris stepping out into the doorframe, yawning as she rubbed her eyes as her hair matted up on itself like a tangled bird’s nest and carrying one of the blankets in her other arm. The lovestruck Titan felt a smile creep on him as he admired how beautiful she was to him, even in this indecent state.

“Did I wake you up?” Arylos asked softly as he moved away from the wall.

Iris groaned as she continued rubbing her eyes while gently shaking her head as she slowly shuffled closer towards the hearth, wincing at its bright light in the dark stone room. “What time is it?” she asked in a hoarse voice as a yawn came to her again. “Being in these caves makes it hard to tell.”

Arylos smiled as he turned to face Iris, leaning on his staff for support. “I don’t think the sun has risen yet, if I’m right.”

“Ah,” Iris said softly while nodding, going back to rubbing her tired eyes. She turned to the side and slowly walked towards a wooden chair next to a table and sat down in it while wrapping the fur blanket around herself.

“You can go back to bed if you want,” Arylos said while watching Iris struggle against the mighty pull of slumber.

“No, it’s fine; I think I’ve slept enough anyway,” Iris said again while rubbing her face, trying to stifle another yawn. “I should ask what you are doing awake?”

Arylos thought for a moment before pushing himself away from the wall with a tap of his staff and walking towards a nearby stone counter, missing his kitchen at the house. “I figured you would want something for when you wake up. I just can’t make up my mind on what.”

Iris watched Arylos with tired eyes before letting out a sigh as she leaned her head back. “Come here honey,” she said while gesturing for Arylos to come towards her with her finger. Arylos sighed for a moment yet complied, walking towards Iris and bending down as she reached out her hands to hold his face, gently rubbing his cheekbones. “Are you getting any sleep?” Iris asked in a stern voice.

“Enough,” Arylos said dismissively.

“Honey, it’s been a week; you need to sleep too,” Iris said in a concerned voice as her eyes finally widened.

Arylos scoffed as he looked at her, his scarlet red eyes giving contrast to the orange flames of the hearth. “No I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” Iris insisted as she put a finger to Arylos’s lips. “You need to rest and get your mind off of things. Holding onto it isn’t healthy.”

Arylos sighed as he knelt down in front of Iris, resting his weight on one knee and leaning on his staff as he held Iris’s hand to his cheek. He closed his eyes as he rubbed against her hand, taking in her warmth. “I just need you,” he whispered softly.

Iris smiled as she let out a sigh, pulling Arylos towards her and resting her forehead against his. “I know honey, I know,” she whispered softly. Before she could say anything else, Arylos let out a purring growl and rubbed his cheek against hers as his beard tickled her face. Iris giggled softly as she held the Titan in a tight hug and ran her fingers through his hair. As she looked around the cavern, Iris had an idea come to her that would help Arylos feel better.

“We should make a new altar,” Iris said proudly as she tapped Arylos’s cheek to get his attention.

Arylos quieted his growling and pulled away from Iris, looking at her with confused eyes. “An altar?”

“Like Youseiki; so we can say prayers for those who died,” Iris said with a proud smile as she held Arylos’s chin.

Arylos thought for a moment as his glowing eyes darted around the room, wondering if it was even right for him. “We don’t have anything to make an altar with though,” he said as if some hidden excitement was fading away.

“That’s fine; it just has to be important to us to remember everyone,” Iris said happily, turning her attention to holding Arylos’s spare hand. “We don’t have any incense though,” she added while examining the crack-like scars in Arylos’s skin.

Arylos thought for a bit as he turned around behind him and saw a bundle of leaves hanging from a shelf. It took him a moment for the idea to come to him as he turned back towards Iris with a sparkle in his eyes. “We have sage; we can use that,” he said as his excitement began to surface.

“Sage? In place of incense?” Iris asked as if confused.

“Burning sage is a kind of purification ritual in some cultures; it’s not perfect but it’s not like we have incense or candles,” Arylos said while thinking about how to quickly and easily make the altar. “But as you said, it doesn’t matter if we’re perfect; as long as we understand the importance and make it matter to us.”

A smile slowly came to Iris’s face as she tapped Arylos’s nose. “Well look who’s been reading and paying attention,” she said with a happy tone and a laugh under her breath.

“I’m not always the big heartless idiot you like to think I am,” Arylos said with a happy smile. He gave Iris a soft pat on the head before pushing himself off of his knees with a groan, keeping a firm grip on his staff. Iris jumped up with them and without words, they coordinated their efforts as Arylos grabbed the sage as Iris hurried to grab a linen sheet. In a choreographed motion, the two prepared the altar on a small wooden table in the corner with Iris laying down the sheet and Arylos tying bundles of sage together with twine. With the sheet placed, and the sage prepared, Arylos placed down a series of small metal bowls and laid the bundle of sage between them as Iris grabbed a bottle of clear rice wine.

Layer by layer the two built their altar; Arylos gathered the offerings of tea leaves and rice as Iris prepared small paper lanterns and candles she made from leftover wax she found. Arylos placed the rice grains in one of the metal bowls and wine in the other as Iris gathered parchment, ink and brushes and placed them near the altar as she sat down next to Arylos. With a silent nod between the two, each took a brush and began writing the names of their departed friends on the parchment; Iris using traditional Kaiyumian writing and Arylos using his native Titanic language.

Silence filled the air as they made their calligraphy, Iris watching Arylos’s brush strokes and how the writing seemed to come alive yet remained in place on the paper. The various lines, circles, dots, and slashes that formed the blocky Titanic letters hummed and pulsed before Iris’s eyes and it made her head spin the longer she looked at the foreign lettering.

As the two finished their writing, they compared each other’s scrolls and Iris felt a smile come to her as she looked between the elegant and picturesque patterns of Kaiyumian writing contrasting against the structured and rich Titanic writing. Where she saw beauty in Kaiyumian, she found refinement in the Titan’s otherworldly script. Where Kaiyumian portrayed images, Titanic portrayed emotion. The structured order of the Titanic language gave her the impression that it carried more in one symbol than Kaiyumian could say in a sentence. Comparing the two side-by-side felt surreal as though she could feel the elegance and enlightenment of the Titans.

And yet when she looked at him, all Iris could see was her big idiot; not the enlightened and beyond godlike being his language and culture would like to portray him as. She cracked a smile as her cheeks went red, trying to stifle a laugh.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Arylos asked nervously.

“No, it’s nothing,” Iris said with a smile as she set the scrolls down on the altar, framed by the other offerings before grabbing a long wooden match and getting up. She walked towards the burning hearth and lit the end of the skewer-like match before she gingerly returned to the altar and lit the candles inside the orange paper lanterns. Without a word, she handed the match to Arylos who took it and lit the bundle of sage before blowing out the match.

Iris nodded in satisfaction and sat back down and admired their makeshift altar for a moment before resituating herself, moving Arylos’s staff behind them. In unison, both sat up straight and clapped twice before bowing their heads. Iris’s silent prayers filled her mind with emotion yet she could not find any words to express her prayers, falling back solely on the emotions she needed to let go. As the burning smell of sage filled her nostrils, she felt some semblance of humanity return to her; she could almost hear the windchimes and singing bowls of a temple and feel the wind rush through her hair.

She slowly opened her eyes as a smile came to her once more, slowly relieving her of the darkness in her heart. She looked up at Arylos and saw his eyes were still closed in prayer. Iris waited patiently for the praying Titan to open his eyes and as he did, she gently rested her head against his arm and held his hand.

“I’ll be honest, it’s a little awkward,” Arylos confessed in a soft voice. “Usually I’m the one who gets prayers, not the one giving them. It’s kind of…humbling? Is that the word I want to use?”

“It makes you feel human,” Iris said gently as she rubbed her cheek against Arylos’s arm. “And that’s a lot more than you feel like you are. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Arylos thought for a while before letting out a sigh as relaxed himself. “It makes me wonder sometimes. When humans are lost, they look to the divine for guidance. But who does the divine turn to when they’re lost? Who do they pray to when they grieve? Who gives them purpose and meaning in this endless cycle of death we call life?”

Iris sighed as she tightened her grip on Arylos’s arm, wanting to give him some kind of comfort. “I think it’s less about who to pray to and more what to pray to,” she said softly while rubbing the back of Arylos’s scarred hand. “It doesn’t have to be about which divine or even who is divine; why can’t life itself be divine? To live, to feel pain, to love, to grieve; it’s all the same, isn’t it?” Iris looked up at Arylos with solemn eyes as she spoke, drawing him in with her brown eyes. “Would you rather be cold and dead, or warm and in love with me?”

Arylos’s expression turned sad as he looked at her, pondering her question. “It’s always warm where you are, and cold where you are not, and one day it will be cold again when you finally leave me.”

Iris smiled as she reached for Arylos’s cheek, gently caressing his cheekbone. “Then what’s wrong with enjoying some warmth now while you can?”

Arylos sighed and gently kissed Iris’s forehead, squeezing her hand tight as he closed his eyes to take in her warmth. Iris then began to clear her throat like something was caught in her throat before suddenly breaking out in a coughing fit, jumping Arylos awake as he panicked, resorting to rubbing Iris’s upper back as she turned away and coughed in her right hand.

“Are you alright?” Arylos asked softly, struggling to find what he could do to help. Yet Iris waved him off as her coughing began to subside as quickly as it came to her.

“I’m sorry, I guess the sage is a little strong,” Iris said while clearing her throat and rubbing her neck.

“I can get you something to drink,” Arylos offered while reaching for his staff.

“No I got it,” Iris said as she picked herself up and tapping Arylos’s shoulder. She slowly walked away and towards the kitchen while clearing her throat all the while Arylos watched her carefully. As she walked into the kitchen, she leaned against a wall and let out a deep and frustrated sigh as the burning pain in her throat and chest subsided. As the pain passed, she took a deep breath as she moved to push away from the wall but stopped herself as she caught a glimpse of her right hand. She lifted her hand as horror came to her face as she looked in the palm of her hand.

Even in the dark cavern, she could see the dark scarlet of blood in her right palm.