Chapter Text
Snow whipped through the streets as Fluixon ran, each breath a sharp cloud in the air. His boots pounded against the packed ice, slipping every now and then on the uneven ground, but he didn't slow. The buildings blurred behind him, bundled figures turning to watch him sprint fast.
His lungs burned. Cold stung his eyes, tears threatening to trickle down at the corners. Still he pushed forward, the wind cutting through like a blade, tugging at his cloak and scarf, but urgency pulled at him harder.
"Saps," he panted. "Saps—"
Ahead, the main road sloped downward, already marked by the faint tracks of a gathering crowd. The tolling of a distant bell reached his ears, resonating. Each chime struck like a blow to his chest, urging his feet faster.
His breath hitched. His legs trembled. But he didn't stop.
Snowflakes clung to his hair, melting against the heat of his skin before freezing again. The entire scenery began to feel both alive and suffocating.
The execution grounds lay somewhere ahead, through the veil of white and the press of bodies. He could already sense the tension gathering there, filling him with even more fear and dread.
Fluixon reached the start of the execution site by the quarry lake, breath ragged, chest heaving. It was half-obscured by a dense mass of people packed shoulder to shoulder, their cloaks dusted white, their face turned towards the scene before them.
The boy staggered forward, boot slipping on trampled snow. He pushes into the crowd—the bodies unmoving like a wall. He forced himself between them, shoulders straining, breath coming in hot bursts that solidified.
"Excuse me— Coming through—"
He would earn irritated responses and stares, but he continued to push harder, weaving through gaps that barely existed. Fluixon could see the faint outline of the execution and the figures involved—the executioners at the side pointing their bows, and Saparata.
The offender.
"Saps!" Fluixon cried at the top of his lungs. "He's innocent! He didn't mean any harm!"
"Hold your fire," Solev commanded.
Saparata lifts his head to look at Fluixon at the distance, his friend making way to the front. His wrists were chained together, his body backed against a wall. There was a glint of cluelessness and fear in his eyes, one that Fluixon could see all too well.
"Flux," he whispered.
"Saps—"
The crowd murmured, many stating that Saparata deserved a right to be freed for what he had done as it was only light, but others believed that he had done something wrong to the president himself. It was a debate between one another, yet everybody knew that his fate has been sealed already.
But Fluixon couldn't bring himself to acknowledge it.
"Let— Let him go!" his voice cracked as he spoke. "Please—"
Solev raises his voice, silencing the whispers, "The district will know those who assault the president! Who lie to government officials!"
"No, no, no no no—"
Saparata had his eyes locked onto Fluixon, the former beginning to possess the look of acceptance on his face while the latter had denial written all over him. He brings himself to mouth something to Fluixon, however the boy had failed to make out what he was trying to tell him due to him trying to fight his way to get to Saparata.
"Justice will be done!"
"NO!"
Fluixon immediately stuck his hand out to the crowd, now free and able to breath and run, but it was already too late.
Arrows struck with sickening precision, embedding different parts of Saparata's body. For a heartbeat, he seemed frozen in the snow, snow settling on his shoulders. Then his body crumpled, folding to the ground in a slow, almost gentle collapse.
Gasps rippled through the square. The crowd surging backwards. Fluixon stood rigid amid the chaos, breath locked in his throat, the world blurring into cold motion and ringing silence.
Solev's men lower their bows, checking to confirm if Saparata is dead. The moment they do, it wouldn't be long until they begin to depart.
Fluixon caught a glimpse of Solev's eyes—cold, empty, and full of authority. A man with power. A man that could crush anybody under his foot. A man that killed his best friend.
All for a light reason.
"Hah..."
The boy stumbled forward onto the quarry lake, making his way towards Saparata's body.
"Saps...?" he weakly cried out. "Saps—"
Fluixon scoops up his friends body as he knelt down, cradling him in his arms while embracing his cold corpse tight. He buried his face on Saparata's chest, his tears mixing with blood, the scent of iron taking over his nose.
"Saps..." he sobbed, shutting his eyes tight. "I—"
Fluixon's eyes shot awake, sitting down immediately on his bed, his hands gripping the sheets. Sweat trickled down from his forehead, complexion all pale.
"What?"
A moment ago, he was at the quarry lake.
A moment ago, he had just witnessed Solev declare execution of his friend.
A moment ago, he saw his friend die.
A moment ago, he was holding Saparata's corpse in his arms.
"A... A dream?"
Fluixon looked at his palms. Clean. Tidy. No traces of blood. Then, his eyes shifted to his clothes, finding himself in his nightwear.
"How—"
He was brought back to reality the moment he jolted at the sound of a snowball crashing right onto his window. Fluixon stared in confusion and wilderness, pinching himself to make sure this was real before he decided to get up and check who was outside.
But Fluixon already knew who it would be.
Saparata.
He stood outside of Fluixon's house, all dressed in his winter clothes and a bright smile on his face—a smile that's carved deep into Fluixon's mind. The white haired boy waved at his friend.
"No.. No way."
Fluixon couldn't believe it was true.
He had went back in time.