Chapter Text
Everyone in the temple knows: if you want to be popular, you need to be strong. And big. And fast. A true desert warrior, regardless of the gender, is always like that, towering over the tiny weaklings from the forests, effortlessly swinging a weapon that can’t even be lifted by an outsider, rushing into battles like an oncoming sandstorm.
Sethos didn’t get blessed with a powerful physique, though. Well, he’s fast, and he has good aim, but his arms and legs are thin like twigs and the top of his head barely reaches the shoulders of most of the kids his age. Grandpa says that he’s just a late bloomer and he still might end up the tallest of them all, and Sethos laughs and nods, but deep inside he already knows that he’ll never be able to wield his father’s old hammer.
Still, he doesn’t let it upset him. It’s not like the other kids are mean about it, or about the fact that he’s a bit of a crybaby sometimes. Well, not anymore, at least. Those who try to belittle, intimidate or hurt him, soon end up having their most embarrassing secrets exposed, their things pinned by an arrow somewhere too high for them to get down easily, and if someone decides to fight him – well, Sethos is quite short, so he’s definitely not above biting people, throwing sand into their faces and hitting them where it hurts the most.
“Oh. You’re not above something because you’re small. It’s a joke, I get it.”
Cyno is also short. And kinda weird, to be honest, but Sethos doesn’t care, he’s a nice guy and fun to be around. He doesn’t mind being dragged everywhere and going for adventures, even though sometimes they end up getting lost for two days in the ruins, or chased by some enraged sumpter beasts while laughing their heads off (okay, maybe only Sethos does that, but Cyno doesn’t complain much even though that one was totally Sethos’ fault), or ruining their clothes after falling into a muddy old well...
Sometimes Grandpa gets annoyed with their antics, so he lectures them about the responsibility and the honor that would be bestowed on them, even tries to lock them up in the separate rooms at one point, but Sethos picks the lock, then lets Cyno out too, and they slink away again, because Sethos just found a great place with lots of trishiraite stones – which are the coolest thing in the desert after Ajilenakh nuts, but they’re so hard to pry out of the rocks that Sethos never manages to do it on his own, so Cyno helps, hitting at them relentlessly until they finally get loose. And in exchange, Sethos shows him the places with the largest scarab beetles in the whole desert. For some reason Cyno is absolutely fascinated by them and can spend half an hour simply lying on the sand and watching them crawl around making shitballs, but hey, no judging, he’s still awesome and the best friend Sethos has ever had.
Grandpa says that the ritual is fixed now and should be safe. Or, at least, safer. Sethos knows that some people died before, but Grandpa says that they were adults and that was a mistake to choose them, and he and Cyno are going to split the power, so it would lessen the burden, too. It all sounds cool and boring at the same time, which should be strange, but Cyno agrees. Like, having great powers would definitely be awesome, they would be able to do even more stuff together, even go to the places that are too dangerous now, but there’s so much to learn, and the scrolls have no pictures at all, only dry theory and complicated spells that they can’t even cast because they don’t have powers to do so.
“You will soon,” Grandpa says, and Sethos can’t wait.
*
It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, make it stop, please, no more, it’s too much, he can’t even scream or cry anymore, Grandpa is yelling something but he can’t understand the words, please just let him die already, it hurts, it hurts...
*
He spends three days between life and death, and wakes up a week later, weak and feverish, hurting all over, his mind feeling like a mashed potato.
“You’ll be fine,” Grandpa says, but his hands are shaking when he tucks the sheets around Sethos.
“Grandpa... I don’t remember Dad’s name,” Sethos whispers, scared, and his hands are shaking, too. “And... who is standing there in the corner? Do I know him? I should know him, right?”
“Oh, kid...” Grandpa closes his eyes and swallows loudly.
Sethos keeps looking around wildly, racking his brain in search of the other lost memories. How old is he? Does he have any other relatives? When is...
“Cyno!” he cries suddenly. “Gran, is Cyno all right?”
Grandpa looks away.
“Cyno is not here anymore.”
Sethos feels as if he’s been hit.
“Is he... dead?” he whispers, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes.
Grandpa shakes his head, and Sethos feels better for a moment, but the next words shatter his hope.
“Cyrus took him and left the temple.”
Sethos blinks, more confused than upset.
“Oh... Okay, I’ll wait for him to return, then.”
Grandpa shakes his head again.
“He won’t be back any time soon, Sethos. Cyrus has betrayed us and won’t come back willingly. And Cyno... unlike you, he forgot everything. So he won’t even remember that he needs to return.”
(“He won’t remember you.”)
“Oh,” Sethos repeats quietly.
He starts crying again. Grandpa just pats his leg awkwardly and leaves. He usually tells Sethos off for crying, but this time he doesn’t even comment on it at all.
It makes Sethos cry even harder.