#dwc 12

- [ MUSIC ] -

Year after year it was the same thing.

What had once been an unmarked grave had been decorated with a simple gravestone, the only words etched across it had been LOKITAN CHAOTI. A plain-looking decoration, nothing truly fancy, certainly nothing that would garner the attention of anyone who would desecrate it. It was in a peaceful part of Teldrassil, a place that had a beginning, a middle, and an end in several parts of a fated story.

Before it stood Jack and Darnath, hand in hand.

It had become a tradition, something that Jack once first dragged Darnath with and rambled on for an entire evening about Lokitan, lost in alcohol and memories of laughter and tears and the Dragonsworn had smiled through it all each time he got to witness such a frail side of his dragon. It was such a bonding moment each and every time and it had become a simple habit. Once a year, it was a date marked off that they went to the forest to mark several anniversaries in one but it always started with visiting the Infinite’s resting place.

Year after year, yes. But it had become increasingly darker each and every time they went there, the blips of memories that Jack reminisced about were fading until one day… That one fateful day.

“I don’t even know who this is,” Jack admitted quietly under his breath after having been silent for quite some time; he furrowed a bit. “But they have my last name, so… Gotta be important to visit them, right?”

Such words drove a small pang into Darnath’s heart, the steady realization that one day, he and Azurick would suffer the same fate. He, too, would be the most important person in the world - the one Lokitan foretold Jackary of - and still be nothing but a faded memory if time marched on long enough.

“I just feel the need to come here… For someone, I don’t know.” Don’t remember? No, Jack had stopped trying to face his memory loss long ago, the thought was too painful but in his quiet lament, he hadn’t even realized one thing.

Darnath knew and he remembered.

While Jack was asleep, the Knight had poured over the countless diaries and journals the dragon kept, such a vast, extensive, and meticulous library of Jackary’s life story, his knowledge and memories were written in those pages, ones that Jack would never read himself. How could he read something in his own penmanship that he wouldn’t have remembered? It was far too upsetting.

The only thing the Dragonsworn could do was squeeze the hand firmly within his own, turning his attention toward the blond. Jack glanced back in return and smiled, blissful in his ignorance. The dragon even leaned over to nuzzle his cheek at Darnath’s, transferring his scent to his Knight, contentedly so.

“Still, thank you for coming with me, it means a lot.” A soft voice chirped, nearly silenced by a thieving kiss from the demon’s lips.

“Always.” A simple answer, an answer that Darnath often used and Jack took for granted. Though in the gloom realization, the Dragonsworn took the time to think it over - he had recalled reading something about Lokitan, many-a-thing in a particular book. Musing the thought over, Darnath made a mental note to find it later and skim back over the pages. If Jackary couldn’t remember the most pivotal moments of his life, Darnath would remember them for him. That would be his ball and chain.

It had been two weeks before the wedding and it was to be the last time Jackary and Darnath would ever see that grave again.

Just like Jack’s memories, so too would the Tree and grave burn and fade from life.