I counted my blessings, now I'll count this curse; oksana

[magnus]

we all carry these things that no one else can see
they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea

She says his name and all of a sudden, his world becomes very small.

It shrinks to that singular moment on the beach when rage and tragedy had struck; it shrunk until all he was became swallowed up by the impossibility of the name. No, it was impossible that Makai was still alive. He had seen him die—saw his young body covered in blood on the sand. His heart squeezed in his chest until he struggled to breathe, and his lips pulled tight into a grimace, forgetting Oksana altogether.

It takes everything within him to not splinter, but he manages, and he pulls back from the precipice just in time to catch the laugher that hides beneath the muscles of her cheek. Afraid to say the name out loud, afraid to even entertain the possibility of Makai’s existence, he tucked it away like a secret in his heart, just giving her a small smile. “My name was once more common.” He shrugged, looking up to the trees above them, forcing his pulse to slow with long breaths. “But it was lost to time a long time ago.”

She steps closer and he returns the favor, feeling comforted by her warmth, the fragility and strength of her stirring memories of Joelle. He ignores the pangs that bite at him as he nudges her neck gently. “I think that I would rather like your company,” he catches her gaze and holds it steady, “but I am not sure that I trust you to not attack again.” He laughs for the first time since he crawled from the ocean, and the sound is both rich and throaty and rusty from disuse, his tongue loosening. “Although I think that I am willing to risk it.”

MAGNUS

once general. once lord. once king.