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He can’t remember much of his youth. Not anything that would bring a smile to anybody’s face, anyways.
Illuga remembers being a kid, though. He can’t remember his mother’s smile, his father’s laugh, but he remembers being small and afraid. He remembers lying still as the beasts surrounding him snarl and sweep their gazes across their gorey masterpieces, looking for any signs of life. He remembers holding his breath and trying not to make a noise, before ultimately he was picked up by the lightkeepers and brought to a new home after everyone else had died.
Every time Illuga enters the fray, he feels similar to how he feels when Flins observes him. The energy tugs at him, eating away at his lifeforce, trying to pry the kuuhvakhi from his chest. Corrosion aims for his heart, attempting to swallow it whole. Illuga is sure, most definitely if not for the dear nightingale Aedon, he’d have been one of the lost long ago. Spirits of fellow ratnik, doomed to wander the wild while the parasitic abyss bores into him.
It feels as if the more mandragora, slothsheep, anything he consumes, the more desperate the Wild Hunt is to dig its claws into him, as if attempting to desperately claim his life as it was supposed to be given away years ago.
“Illuga.”
The squad leader looks up, and is eye-to-eye with the current Starshyna of the Lightkeepers and a well respected warrior, a man that, in Illuga’s eyes, is the model example of a ratnik.
Nikita. The current Starshyna, the other consistent and constant presence in Illuga’s life, his dad.
“Pops,” Illuga greets right back. Both are in Illuga’s house, Illuga standing in the kitchenette reading a recipe book and Nikita taking off his shoes at the entryway and slipping on the indoor shoes Illuga had insisted he uses. “What brings you here?”
The Starshyna walks into Illuga’s small, cramped living room, settling down onto the couch with a ‘oomph’ and chuckling. “Can’t visit my own son? I’m hurt. You hurt me.”
Making the executive decision to abandon the kitchen, Illuga prepares two cups of tea and a couple slices of the chocolate cake he had been working on with his limited freetime. “I got a couple of cocoa imports, recently.”
“Yeah?”
“One of the younger recruits, she was talking about how much she misses her mother’s chocolate cake.” Illuga sets down the plate carefully, offering the tea to Nikita, who accepts the cup graciously. “I was practicing baking some as a surprise, since her performance recently has been exceptional. Take a bite.”
“Am I your guinea pig?” Nikita grumbles lightheartedly, taking a fork and stabbing it into the cake. Scooping the pastry into his mouth, Nikita chews for a bit, before wincing. “Bitter.”
Illuga nods, making a mental note. Nod Krai doesn’t have ingredients from say, Fontaine, all ready to use. Even if they do, the ingredients are sparse and are better to be saved for more important meals. So, Illuga had to make a couple of substitutes where he could. He used a bit of coffee grounds on top to hopefully bring out more of the chocolate, but he’s no expert baker, so that turning out wrong doesn’t quite discourage him…
Nikita tugs at his arm, requesting his attention. “Illuga, you mentioned a girl.”
“Yes?”
“Is there something…?”
The squad leader scrunches his nose. “No. Ew. She’s lovely, but… no.”
“I was just asking!” Illuga’s dad feebly protests, so unlike the man of stature and honor that he is to everybody else. Nikita didn’t know how to raise a child, back then, but he’s gotten better over the years. “You could, I don’t know… settle down.”
This was a consistent topic between the two that they could never agree on. “You know my answer to that.”
Illuga has known, ever since he was little, that he wanted to repay the organization that saved him. There is nothing for him if he were to return to the past, there is no dreams awaiting him, only a nightmare he’s determined to fix. Settling down would go against his ambition, it’s the one thing he cannot do until he sees this obligation through until the very end. He knows this, Nikita knows this, they’ve squabbled and hurt feelings over this, before eventually coming to the consensus that they would never agree.
This feels different, though. Nikita seems more desperate than usual, his eyes containing a hint of sadness that Illuga has only ever seen within himself. Like it’s bubbling upward, like a wound that won’t stop bleeding, the blood seeping through your fingers and staining your hands crimson despite your best to keep pressure on the injury and stop it. The slow dread of despair creeping in is one Illuga is well acquainted with, and the fear that comes after is quick and brutal. The sting of failing yet another one of his comrades is what comes last, and the pain throbs and stabs needles into his heart.
But he’s never quite seen this look on his father’s face. Nikita has always been, to Illuga, a solid representation of Solovei’s ideals.
“Illuga-” Nikita rasps. “You’re in danger.”
And oh, maybe Illuga does know what this is about. His mind drifts back to the letter from his father he’s oh-so carefully tucked away into his bedside drawer before Illuga’s mind snaps back to the present, Nikita’s hands clasping his own and tears falling from the older man’s eyes. “You’re in danger, Illuga. You’re in danger and I can’t stop it.”
“Pops?” His voice sounds bewildered, Illuga realizes distantly, as Nikita tries valiantly not to sob into his son.
“What Sir Flins wants– what that fae wants is what I want for you, too. And I can’t want that if I want you to be safe, but this mindset, Illuga, you’re going to destroy yourself! I can’t- I won’t–”
“Drink some tea,” Illuga offers softly, reaching for Nikita’s cup before realizing it’s empty. Probably dranken in one go, he realizes, so Illuga reaches for his own cup instead and offers it to Nikita.
The old man sniffles, looking like he’s aged beyond his years, and Illuga feels helpless.
“This is what I mean.” Nikita says, somber, desperately trying not to accept his pre-conceived notion of what Illuga’s fate is. “Son… Flins wants you to want a future.”
What? “Pardon?”
“Back when the fae was auditioning for the lightkeepers, his talent was extraordinary. He could have usurped my position as Starshyna, or at least surpass my combat prowess and best me easily. In fact, he did. We sparred, Illuga. I lost.”
Illuga didn’t know about that. All he can do is gesture for Nikita to go on, holding onto his hand as a support, watching Nikita cry his heart out for someone still alive. “He asked to have a chat with me afterwards.” Nikita says, bitter. “I agreed. I talked about my job, my friends, my dreams, but he was only interested when I mentioned you. He started asking questions about what you were like, why ‘everyone likes the young master,’ your motivations… but it didn’t click until I had already sent him your way.”
Oh. Illuga’s fingers tighten around Nikita’s, and he tries to keep his voice from trembling. He steadies both himself and his dear father, and he speaks with conviction. “You didn’t put me in any danger.”
“But I did! I did the one thing a father, a parent, a guardian wasn’t supposed to do- Illuga, he wants to see you happy. He wants to see you happy and indulge in things for you, only you, he wants you to look forward to the future instead of focusing on protecting the present and the people around you.” Nikita’s sobs are wracked with so much grief and guilt, and Illuga lets out a small ‘oomph’ as the older man tugs him close. “I failed you, Illuga. I’m so, so sorry.”
The cogs had started turning too late for Nikita, it seems. And now, Illuga can’t do anything to comfort his old man, because it’s all the truth. The wheels have been set in motion, and Illuga cares for Flins, and in turn Illuga has long accepted his final destination. But his father… his father can’t.
“Please,” Nikita chokes out. “Leave the Lightkeepers. Settle down. Put your ambitions aside, live unfulfilled, just so you can live.”
Illuga lets a palm settle on Nikita’s back, reciprocating his embrace and closing his eyes.
“I can’t do that.”
Nikita lets out a broken wail, and the Starshyna falls apart in the squad leader’s hands.
The cake is growing cold on the counter, and Illuga makes a mental note to try the recipe again later. Piramida City, as a whole, already embodies a want for a bright future. It’s a beacon of hope, alongside the other representatives of the ratnik, and Illuga has always felt that him hoping for the same thing would be redundant. Living in the present, embracing what comes to him, being attentive to everyone is a more productive state of living.
Even if Illuga were to die, by Flins’ hands, on the field, to the corrosion of the abyss, Illuga would feel content, knowing he has done all he can. He’s lived his life in tribute to the people around him, and despite Illuga’s denial, he does recognize the fact that mostly everything he does is in service of the people around him or to the cause he fights for.
To find worth, Illuga had thought, was to find love in life. To find someone to devote himself too wholly, and he believed himself safe, because he can’t do that.
To find worth, it turns out, is to find a love for himself. To find love in life, to hope for a brighter future, to want to keep going not for others but for simple pleasures he hears his colleagues speak of when wanting to return home. Flins wants him to find worth in life, so that the fae can snatch him away when he burns brightest.
Kuuhvakhi, Illuga laughs to himself. This all started because of Illuga’s diet for Kuuhvakhi. He was glowing, that’s what Flins told him when they first met. That Illuga was glowing in the snow, reflecting light off of each individual piece of frost in the Northlands, a light so bright it attracted the fae off of that and that alone. That the gentle radiance of the moonlight Illuga consumed, craved, devoured, that it had turned him into a fucking disco ball that Flins wanted to eat.
“Pops,” Illuga strains. Nikita’s tears don’t cease, but Illuga doesn’t expect them to. He wipes away Nikita’s tears, and smiles with a practiced ease, made tailored to comfort and reassure, an expression he's worn to reassure his squad in times of peril. “I won’t die anytime soon.”
There is no future in this impermanent state.
You can hope and pray all you want, but Illuga has survived nightmares. He’s devoured light to keep going, because Illuga, inherently, is a selfish person.
Even if no one else can see it, even if Flins and Nikita don’t see it, even if his squad members would argue otherwise. It's in his nature to be selfish, to want to take the people he cares about and to place them into a little box where no one gets hurt. He's willing to bear the brunt of the damage in preservation of other's wellbeing, physical or emotional, not out of selflessness, but a burning desire instead to see everyone he cherishes breathing.
And Illuga cherishes.
He holds every lightkeeper near and dear to his heart, no matter the time he knows them or the distance between them. Illuga mourns like it's a personal offense when they fall in battle, celebrates and lets go of them when they choose to leave the ratnik, and finds himself fiercely invested in others' well-being.
To be selfish for himself is something he cannot afford. Not at this current time, not ever with the Wild Hunt still around, not with the monster awaiting him in Kipumaki Cliff, not when everyone else is drowning and he’s capable of dragging everyone back to shore. There will never be a time where he can afford the luxury of indulging in something, for himself and himself only, and there will never be a time where he can dare hope for something to look forward to. Everything is constantly changing around him, and if there’s no consistency throughout the change, there’s no point in trying to hope.
All Illuga can do is try to offer this selfless selfishness up to Nikita, and pray that it’s enough of a thread for him to hold onto.
Nikita looks at him, eyes dulled down. “That’s even worse.”
Besides the selfishness in his heart, the kuuhvakhi in his veins, and darling Aedon… Illuga really isn’t anything special at all.
Nothing is tethering Illuga to the future, and Illuga has found a home inside of the fae’s heart. He’s curled up, keeping himself warm, while azure flames burn around him. Change, empathy, and the constant flow of time is what makes him live and die as a human. Nikita doesn’t know of Illuga’s foolishness, he doesn’t know of the way that Flins has…
Not ruined.
Illuga doesn’t feel ruined. At his core, he is the same. He is still just Illuga. But somewhere along the way he’s been fundamentally changed by Flins, and in turn, Illuga has changed Flins in a way as well.
And that’s perfectly human, is it not?
Pulling away from Nikita’s embrace, Illuga smiles with warmth, trying to comfort his pops. “If you have time, I can make you soup. We can sit and talk, about work, maybe.”
All the Starshyna does is nod in agreement, and Illuga finds himself breathing evermore.
He’s fine.
Illuga is fine. He’s still alive, he’s still breathing, and he’s fine. He has been fine before, he’ll be fine in the future, he’s fine now. There’s not much he can do otherwise, for the people who are worried for him, because he’s not going to confirm their suspicions and feed into their despair.
Because above all, Illuga wants the people he loves to be happy.
Yes, Illuga thinks to himself, picking up a carrot and beginning to wash it. All of his love, no matter how shallow or fickle it is, stems from his selfishness.
Somewhere across the ocean, there’s a certain fae who challenges every single one of Illuga’s beliefs. As a squad leader, it’s his job to improvise, adapt, and overcome.