[ A/N: Bonus artwork by Cynthrey linked at the end! ]

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Chapter Four

Traveling east led them to finally seeing signs of civilization. They arrived at a strait where a stone bridge was in the process of being built. They approached cautiously, unsure how their appearances would be taken, but deciding they should see if the other land mass needed to be repaired as only their floran powers could allow.

The first person to notice them was a human stonemason, who greeted them with a wave and a delighted look. She called to her fellow builders, and out of the group of five another woman came over as the two florans reached the start of the bridge. She smiled warmly while the others hung back to watch. “Hello, spirits of the forests! We haven’t seen any of your kind for many years. It’s good to know you still exist. This is a fortuitous sign! It means we chose the right time to begin the return to our homeland!”

“Hello!” Sausage responded cheerfully. “We’ve been beautifying the place, so hopefully you like it when you get there!”

Scott smiled as well, although he was curious. “We saw some ruins, but it didn’t look like anyone had been around for, well, several decades at least.”

The woman nodded. “Yes. Centuries have gone by since our people fled terrible calamities that wracked the land. We are the descendants of two empires, whose people came together out of the ashes to build anew in a safer region. You may use our Greatbridge here to visit our haven, Gilded Ratio, if you like. We have a nice orchard that you might find rest in, and I’m sure the farmers will appreciate the blessing of your presence.”

“Thank you, I think we will.” Scott nodded to her in appreciation. She returned the gesture with a bow, then stepped aside and held out one arm to extend the offer of crossing the bridge.

The other builders similarly moved aside, an assortment of wonder and joy on their faces. Scott walked ahead, but glanced back, noticing Sausage was hesitating. The former seraph put a hand to the back of his head. “Uh, yeah, thanks! And, um, I apologize if there’s, like, just a little extra grass or moss or flowers that end up growing on here, eh-heheh! It looks great, by the way! Very solid build, those pylons should stand for many more centuries!”

Scott gave him a patient look and held out his hand. Sausage reached to clasp it, leaning over instead of taking a step onto the bridge. Scott tugged him forward. Sausage hopped awkwardly, then realized nothing was growing under him. “Oh. Oh! Right, direct contact with soil! Ah-haha, never mind! But maybe watch for plants starting to creep onto the end, there.” He pointed to the stone connecting to the land, but then nearly stumbled as Scott dragged him along. “Okay, okay! W-We’re going now! Have fun building!”

He moved up beside Scott and hissed quietly, “You don’t have to be pushy! You could have just reminded me I didn’t have to worry about it!”

“Sorry. I was getting a little nervous. They were kind of looking at us like we’re some kind of gods. I’m not used to so much attention. I mean, yeah, people can see starbornes at work, but as just another star. I don’t have to look them in the eye and go ‘hi, yes, I rearranged the sky, now bow down before me’!”

“That’s a good point. But, um, you might have to get used to it a little bit…” Sausage eyed a second construction crew that was working on a lookout tower at the other end, which appeared to be one of a set to either side. The people halted as the two florans walked by, another round of wonderous gazes coming their way.

“Hello,” Scott singsonged casually, waving, “Don’t mind us, just passing by to bestow some blessings, then we’ll be on our way.”

The two passed through a stone passageway that might have been one source of material for the bridge. On the other side was a new sight to astound them. Before them stood a city below a curved road, with farms cascading down hills and small homes clustered around larger, central buildings. The true focal point, however, was a giant statue of a woman holding a sword, one feathered wing extended to her right and a stylized circular wing on the left. Gleaming with golden accents, it resembled a shining sun, with rays at intervals to add to the effect.

Sausage gazed at the statue with enamored eyes and murmured, “Reminds me of Pearl… It doesn’t look like a temple from here, though…”

“Let’s get closer. We can always ask the locals. Maybe they’re into angel symbolism. Just the place for you.” Scott smiled teasingly. Sausage stuck his tongue out in response, then composed himself when two citizens came up to welcome them with the same excitement as the woman on the bridge.

It quickly became apparent she had sent word for them to find the florans through some type of long-distance signaling system. They were among the numerous agriculture experts in town. They offered to give the florans a tour. The first thing the pair asked when they reached street level was about the statue.

“That is Our Lady of Harvests, the Goddess Peril,” explained the taller of the citizens, “She watches over our city as well as the catacombs, where all of our people have been laid to rest since it was founded. They even say one of the great emperors of the past is entombed within, but the exact location of that crypt is hidden.”

“Peril,” Sausage mumbled, then repeated it with an accent as, “Perl.” He nudged Scott with his elbow. Scott merely smiled.

The other farmer piped up, “You’re probably not here for a history lesson, though. If you would be so kind, we do have one crop field that isn’t yielding. After that, you can visit the orchard.”

The crops in question were several hundred scraggly stalks of what was supposed to be corn. Scott walked along the first row getting a feel for the location’s energy while Sausage waited on the cobblestone path. After touching one stalk and turning it a healthier shade of green, Scott said, “After this harvest you should let this field lay fallow for a season, then rotate to a different crop. The soil tired out early.”

He then nodded to Sausage, who grinned and stepped between the second and third rows. He held his hands out to either side and took off running, fingers grazing sagging leaves. A wave of refreshed green took hold of the corn stalks shortly after he passed. When he reached the end, he turned and ran through the fourth and fifth rows.

Scott ambled down the first row, changing all of the stalks there, then went around the border of the field to mark where Sausage could stop. Several other people wandered over to see what was happening, including a few children. When he returned to the starting point, Scott smiled gently at them; the children had probably heard many fairy tales about the ‘spirits of the forest’ and might not have the same level of understanding as the adults of how the magic was working. He grew a handful of small sunflowers out of his palm, then passed them out to the children one by one. Faces lit up with wonder again. A few of the adults moved closer to see if he had any leftover to give to them.

“So, you were sent by Our Lady Peril,” someone said reverently. “Thank you for these gifts.”

“You’re… welcome,” Scott said with a measure of caution. With all the reminders of PearlescentMoon, he chose to go with sunflowers as an experiment. He had his answer. “Well, you enjoy. We have more to see before we continue our travels.”

He collected Sausage as he was on his way back from the final rows of corn. A bit winded but cheerful, the former seraph beamed at him. “That was fun, too! Is there anywhere else they need us to work on, or are we wandering around some more?”

“We’re going to see that orchard they were talking about, then figure out what we’ll do for the night.”

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a real bed again, come to think of it…”

“Shh,” Scott hushed him. He lowered his own voice. “They think we were sent by their god. Remember what our Pearl said. Let’s not mention anything that might reveal we’re something else.”

Sausage coughed. He loudly proclaimed, “A real bed of moss, you know! Not as much mossy moss around these parts like where we usually dwell!”

“Ah— Okay,” Scott murmured helplessly.

Attention kept being drawn their way as they walked. Both responded with polite greetings while making observations of their own. There were pens full of different animals, people transporting goods, and tradecraft shops of all kinds.

Sausage swiveled his head as he took it all in, commenting, “This city seems pretty nice. The red sheep are a little weird, but other than that, it’s a thriving society! Big contrast to the whole other continent I think we were on.”

“I’m starting to wonder if maybe we’ve traveled too far. If this does happen to be a completely different continent, and the worst problem they have is not rotating crops, we might have been meant to go west from the mountains instead.”

“There was the giant lily, though.”

“Hmm, true. West from there, then, or further south, or even back to the north. We could go back over the bridge…”

“We could also maybe ask Pearl for a sign. I mean, if this place isn’t a sign. That statue was really obvious.”

“Yeah, but why would we need to be here?”

“Inspire the people to make more flower gardens? I don’t know!”

Scott held out an arm to stop Sausage as a line of rather unusual trees came into view. They approached with curiosity again, both of them picking up on the modified energy of the trees. A worker carrying a basket of faintly glowing fruit in multiple colors waved at them. “Welcome to the Froglight Orchard!”

.

Despite numerous invitations to spend the night in available buildings, Scott and Sausage opted to climb one of the acacia trees near the city’s outskirts. They figured no one would want to wake up with the front door blocked by overenthusiastic grass and flowers.

They intended to set off at dawn, but a shepherd herding a flock of sheep out to the plains to feed was waiting for them. They figured he was only trying to be polite.

“Spirits of the forests, we thank you for your visit. If you need anything for your journeys, please ask. We will offer what we can.” He bowed.

“That won’t be necessary,” Scott said, a hand out to try to indicate he meant the bowing and the offer. “We have all we need right from the land.”

“Actually,” Sausage interjected, “Do you, by any chances, have any honey bottles to spare? And maybe a pack to carry them. Oh, and if you could also do us one favor and spread the word of the storm god, Joel, who I’m sure will help with any droughts if you say a sincere prayer to him. Rain goes along with healthy crops, after all!”

~*~

Scott raised an eyebrow as Sausage finished drinking his third honey bottle in an hour. They were half a day’s travel from Gilded Ratio, and Scott himself hadn’t been hungry, feeling plenty sustained by photosynthesis.

Sausage was apparently another story. He stowed the empty bottle in the satchel the shepherd had given them, then met Scott’s gaze. “What? I’m hungry! I think all this excess power leakage is draining me!” He then giggled, realizing his incidental pun.

“I hope that doesn’t mean we’re on a time limit,” Scott said thoughtfully. “You didn’t even do anything as strenuous as those redstone chasms.”

“It might maybe possibly be from trying extremely hard to not overwhelm that entire city with abundant crops.”

Scott sighed. “We are officially staying away from all villages and cities and whatever other settlements people might be in.”

“You know, if they’re settled, that means we don’t need to fix anything, anyway.”

“True. We’ll keep going this way for now and see what we find. We can always loop back around.”

.

For another few weeks the two florans traveled around, finding mostly areas where plant life was beginning to take hold with not so much in the way of calamitous destruction. They helped things along and grew extra flowers before moving on. They continued to be oblivious to the one god who was spying on them – and who was growing more resentful by the day; meanwhile, Joel occasionally zipped down to light-heartedly pester them. His mood had become very cheery, and one time he let slip that the mortals had finally taken notice of him. A small shrine had been created in a major city this side of the planet, and he was feeling more powerful for it.

Sausage made the suggestion that Joel should seek out a mortal and give them an inspirational vision of a temple he would like to see built. Joel said he would take it into consideration before he left them again.

Adelfa was waiting for him above, arms folded and a scowl firmly in place. “Proud of yourself, are you?”

“I don’t see why not,” Joel boasted. “The mortals are seeing the value of a separate weather god. Maybe you should try chilling out and stop snooping into what those two are doing. You have to admit, they have a certain artistry to the way they’re rebuilding things. Sausage is still kind of an overachiever but that’s not a bad—”

“You even bothered to learn their names?! Don’t go getting so attached!”

Joel sighed in exasperation. “I’m not getting attached, I’m making allies. Comrades. I have a common goal with them. I can do my job better if they make the land more accessible for rain, and make room for flooded rivers so the banks don’t get washed out all the time. Why isn’t this making you happy? Wasn’t the point to get all the land to flourish again where it was refusing to heal? You clearly couldn’t fix it by yourself.”

“We couldn’t fix it, Joel! We!”

“No, just you. That was never within my ability. I only control the skies, remember?”

Adelfa narrowed their eyes. “Then stop concerning yourself with a couple of land-bound fleas!”

“I just explained myself to you. How about you stop being jealous of them and go do your job? Create some new animals or something. Seriously. Get a hobby, Adelfa. This isn’t the least bit productive. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some mortals to inspire. When was the last time someone built you a temple, by the way? At this rate, those two will get a shrine before that ever happens again!” He cackled, then went on his way as usual.

Adelfa glared after him, then glanced down toward the ground. The two florans were also departing for the next location where they might outshine the irritated god.

~*~

Although they couldn’t be too sure of which continent they had ended up on after a bit of boat travel, Scott and Sausage eventually found a site with some more traces of corrupted soil. There were a few struggling stands of bamboo, and a jungle that looked like it had been ravaged at one point, with almost a dozen large tendrils of bright red corruption wrapped around the tree trunks. They weren’t sure what it meant, and Scott didn’t receive a vision right away this time, so they proceeded with a little caution.

Scott called upon a score of regular vines to wrap around one of the tendrils to begin pulling it off a tree while Sausage made an attempt to climb a different one, waiting to see if he could at least convert it to the blue-green alternative. He had to give up when he nearly slipped; he could swear the stuff had shifted under his foot. He picked his way back to the ground, then imitated Scott’s motions to have vines wrangle the tendril for him.

Once all of them had been pulled to the ground, Sausage tried again to convert them. Scott went to work on the bamboo in the meantime, bolstering the thin clusters and spreading more of it all around until it resembled more of a bamboo forest than just a jungle. He widened his radius, giving Sausage plenty of time – as well as checking for any hidden pockets of corrupted soil. However, the further out he went, the more certain he became that it was only that one spot.

Scott returned just as sunset approached, needing to weave between thicker stands of bamboo because, of course, those had been affected by Sausage, too. When he located his partner, he saw no hint of even the blue-green stuff. He tilted his head in curiosity. “What in the world did you do?”

Sausage sat on a raised tree root, looking pleased with himself. “It wasn’t really cooperating, so I made bamboo grow under the whole thing, and they stabbed up into it, breaking it apart, then I crushed all the bits with roots and vines, and then buried everything underground!” To illustrate, he waved a hand at the root he had been sitting on, sending it back into the soil, which quickly grew over with grass and left no trace. “I’m thinking if we camp out right here for the night, those bits will convert while we sleep!”

“That was a creative way to deal with it,” Scott admitted. “So, do we make a tent out of this insane amount of bamboo you’ve now sprouted, or grow even more until it encloses us?”

“I don’t know – do you think you’ll go sleepwalking again, since there is corruption here, too? There’s actually a little rock outcropping over this way, and that could be two walls we don’t have to worry about constructing. We could even sleep right out under the stars this time, without branches and stuff in the way.” With a smile, Sausage clasped Scott’s hand and guided the way through the bamboo to a little sandy area with a protruding rock face. More of the jungle continued around it, so there was still plenty of cover they could call upon.

“Sure,” Scott agreed. He got to work making moss pillows. “I mean, we’re still going to fall asleep before we see too many of them, but it’s a nice thought.”

It took a bit of doing to get bamboo to start poking through the hard soil despite the sand overtop of it, but Sausage managed to get a small wall up in time before they laid down side by side for the night. He gently took Scott’s hand, entwining his fingers as sleep descended on them. Scott smiled over at him in turn, preferring to gaze at his partner and the peaceful look that lingered on his face rather than concerning himself with the stars.

~*~

No visions or dreams came to him that night, and yet Scott was slow to wake at the break of dawn. What did rouse him was a sort of scrabbling sound, then Sausage’s voice with a note of panic in it. “Scott? Hey, um… something’s wrong. I still look like a floran but this isn’t responding to what I want it to do…”

Scott sat up. He immediately regretted the move as dizziness swept through his head. Sausage had a hand against the bamboo wall. “Hmm. Maybe our powers are starting to wear off, and it’s a sign we’re done and can go home? Kind of wish it happened before we went to sleep. My starborne powers aren’t strong enough during the day to launch out of the atmosphere. Guess that means we’ll wander around until nightfall again.”

“Pearl said she would come get us, right? But it would also be nice if she showed up soon. I could do without the headache…”

“You too, huh?” Scott gave up on standing and sat on his knees instead, one hand braced on the sand. He tried sending out a request through the ground toward the bamboo wall in hopes of lowering it, but he wasn’t able to even sense the stalks properly.

Sausage turned and took a lurching step toward him. “Um… S-Scott? Why do I suddenly feel… so...” He toppled forward, landing on his knees then dropping flat. He let out a whimper and worked to reach one arm toward Scott. His hand fell short, leaving him to gaze at the other floran helplessly.

Scott’s mind raced to make sense of what might be happening as his strength flagged, as well. Then it hit him. “The… The sunlight,” he said, trying to look upward. “Something is wrong with… the sun…” The main source of their power, and vitality too, it seemed. He realized that there was too much of a yellow cast to everything.

He decided not to waste any more time on explanations and instead reached to grasp Sausage’s hand as he, too, fell over. He tried to get a hold on the rest of his partner’s arm to pull both of them closer together if only to hug him and reassure him, but the remainder of his strength failed.

Sausage locked eyes with him and made one last attempt to speak. “I… I lo…” The last word died on his lips as his eyes closed.

“I – I know…” Scott managed to reply, keeping a tight grip on Sausage’s hand before he succumbed to the drain from the altered sunlight.

A golden glow flared into existence in the form of bands around the ring finger of each’s left hand, followed by gold tendrils curling out of the ground between them, winding around their wrists and briefly connecting before disappearing into a spray of glittering motes. Beneath their bodies a layer of grass began to sprout where the sand had previously prevented anything from growing before.

High above, the strange yellow tint also faded out. Adelfa withdrew their splayed hands to their sides and grinned with satisfaction. They then sighed in annoyance when they heard a crackle of thunder.

“Adelfa!!” Joel yelled, fast approaching on a dark storm cloud, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that?! What have you done?!”

“You’re a little late to be worrying about it now. You’ll have to learn to be faster if you want to prevent other gods from undermining your domain.”

“Or you could stop being insufferable.” Joel scanned the surface below, trying to figure out what the vitriolic nature god had been up to. Then he spotted the two florans where they seemed to have suspiciously been cornered between a rock and a bamboo barrier. “What the heck? They never sleep during the day…”

A smirk crawled onto Adelfa’s face. They waited for him to put the pieces together.

Joel then realized there was no wild plant growth going on around Sausage. “Wait… You did something to them, didn’t you?” He turned an accusatory glare on the other god.

“Well, the job they were supposed to do is pretty much done. I have no more use for them. So, there was only the matter of them to clean up.”

“Y-You didn’t have to murder them!”

“Murder is such a strong word, godling. Why don’t you get back to your storms again and mind your own business? Plants and plant-like creatures aren’t of your concern anymore, remember?”

“But this was wrong! They were helping, and they were harmless!”

“They were about to start getting in my way. Mortals are just toys, Joel. You’ll figure that out eventually.” Adelfa snapped their fingers and disappeared.

Joel stood agape, then angled his cloud to rush downward. He placed it directly over the florans then jumped to the ground beside them. He flicked his fingers at the cloud, producing a light, misty rain. “Hey— Hey, fellas? How does a nice refreshing rainfall sound? A little something to perk up the old, under-watered flowers, yeah?”

He could already see it was pointless from the way the flowers in their hair had begun to wilt. He stopped the rain and sat down with his back against the rock wall, wondering if there was anything he could have done, if he had been faster. He wasn’t sure what Adelfa had done to the sunlight, only that the change in the atmospheric filter had prickled at his senses. He should have summoned clouds to the spot without trying to reach it first. He was able to do that – surely it wasn’t necessary for him to be in a specific location to make the weather behave in a specific way…

He continued to sit and watch over the two until the largest blossoms in their hair faded; the beautiful silvery-white one in Sausage’s, the mystical dark blue one speckled with gold in Scott’s. Joel sighed and moved to get up. He couldn’t just leave them here like this. Perhaps he could bring them to the city that had the shrine to him, and the people there would allow the florans to be laid to rest in their monument to the dead…

He stopped when he felt a pulse of energy pass through the ground into his hand – or was it out of his hand? Either way, he dropped back into a seated position as dozens of the white and blue flowers sprang up around the two florans’ bodies.

Then the bamboo wall collapsed and a figure even taller than Joel stepped into view, her hands suffused with a golden light as she reached toward the pair. He didn’t recognize her at first, but realized there was a resemblance to the farming goddess who he had briefly met when Adelfa none-too-politely introduced the rest of the pantheon to him. “Peril? Is that you? What are you going to do with them?”

She didn’t answer. She picked up the florans, cradling one in each arm, then turned. Joel hopped up to try to follow, hoping to find out something, but then he saw the glimmering Aether portal around the corner. He came to a halt, knowing for certain it was not his place to follow her through.

It remained open for a few minutes. He could see through to the other side, where the goddess stood in a large wooden gazebo. She had worry on her face as she gazed downward. He saw a shimmer pass over the bodies of the two florans, then he saw Sausage grow wings that draped over the mystery goddess’ arm as she continued to hold the two, his clothes turning into pristine white robes and bits of gold-trimmed armor. Next, he saw Scott turn into a glowing purple figure before dimming to a normal humanoid appearance with the same clothes but with star motifs instead of foliage and in hues of blue, black, and violet, a trail of bright motes encircling his head instead of flowers. The goddess placed them on their feet, then she shrank down closer to their heights and threw her arms around both of them in a hug.

The portal closed with the sound of breaking glowstone. Joel stood frozen for a moment, then turned to regard the patch of unique flowers. He then looked at the rock wall with its protruding features and gave some thought to creating something with his own hands.

This wouldn’t require the skills of an architect, but maybe someone with an eye and appreciation for artistry.

~*~

Pearl stepped back after releasing Sausage and Scott, relief beaming from her face. “Boys, I am so sorry. That was not how that job was supposed to end. I was having all sorts of problems getting the local pantheon to cooperate. They’ve got some serious infighting going on over there. Personally, I don’t think it’s going to end well for them later.”

Sausage was happily patting at the feathers of his lower wings, having pulled one around beside his hip. “Don’t apologize, Pearl! We’re used to dying within arm’s length of each other, it’s like a weird pastime or something. But maybe let’s not do it again anytime soon.”

“I’d like to retire from it altogether,” Scott put in. He similarly checked himself over, smiling fondly at the twinkling of his own skin. He sighed with relief. “Back to normal, thank goodness.” He then turned and hugged Sausage tightly.

The seraph patted his back and returned the hug, then moved away to get enough space to stretch out his wings, luxuriating in the feeling before folding them all in. “At least that one was more like fainting instead of being stabbed, or shot by an arrow…” He ticked off the list on his fingers one by one and continued, “…Or an explosion, or—”

“Yes, thanks,” Scott interrupted, “I don’t want to relive those, either.”

Pearl lightly ruffled Sausage’s hair. “It’s good you can keep your sense of humor, my dear angel. I’ll let you get back to building now. You deserve to do some casual work for a bit. I’ll try not to send you on any other big missions for a while, either.” She then turned to Scott with an apologetic look. “As for you, on the other hand…”

She gestured to the opening of the gazebo opposite her wicker throne, where a crimson-hued starborne with black hair and red-rimmed sunglasses stood awkwardly staring in at them. “Sorry to intrude,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, at last.” He cleared his throat and strode across the floor to grasp Scott’s hand with a sincere grip. “Scott, was it? I’m Prince Sparklez. I confess, I need a little help straightening up a few issues – well, a few dozen, maybe? To be honest, all the things they tell you at the academy and my royal training didn’t really prepare me for being out in the field with no mentor. It was harder than it looked!”

Scott offered a patient smile and patted the other starborne’s shoulder. “I was kind of thrown into the job, too. I’ll help you fix whatever you need help with, Your Highness.”

“Oh, um, please just call me Sparklez. I’m a regular old starborne like everyone else! Well, not everyone here, obviously, since we’re in the presence of gods and angels, and. Well. Nothing particularly special about me, no sir-ree…”

“Okay. If you say so.” Scott then turned back to Sausage and hugged him again. “I’ll see you at home later. I’ll try to get back before sunrise here, and we can finally gaze at the stars together. Love you!” He gave a little wave then started out of the gazebo while Sparklez jogged ahead, although the violet starborne glanced over his shoulder once with a tender smile.

“I know!” Sausage called after him in return. He watched the two starbornes launch upward in twin streams of red and purple, his expression soft. Then he cast a thoughtful look at the reflecting pool. “Pearl, is there any way to check in on that other world? I kind of want to let Joel know we’re okay. He might wonder where we’ve gone off to.”

“Joel...?” she asked curiously, yet with a weird undertone that Sausage didn’t pick up on.

“The storm god. Oh, you might not have had to deal with him like the rest of the pantheon. He was pretty new to whole godly responsibilities thing. He seemed nice! He helped us out a few times. I think he liked seeing our progress.”

Pearl clasped her chin with one hand, considering the matter. Then she smiled. “Actually, no, we can’t – I tried to keep track of you, but the pool wouldn’t always attune for some reason. But I have the feeling he knows you’re all right now.”

~*~

Joel stood silently with a candle in one hand, looking over his work for the final time. With hammer, chisel, and some precise erosion techniques, the rock face had been turned into a relief-style statue of two figures facing each other, foreheads leaning together and perhaps implying they were planning to kiss. The one on the right had a hand up as if cradling the side of their partner’s neck, while the one on the left had their hand against the small of the other’s back in an embrace.

The tails of the righthand figure’s overcoat appeared to be swirling in the wind, encompassing the upper legs of both. They appeared to be standing on two different tree roots. In their hair were the same angelflowers and starflowers that stood in the nearby patch which Joel had surrounded with a low border of tumbled river rocks. He had set up a small shrine space in front, and that was where he now set the candle. He lit it with a spark from his finger.

He emitted a gusty sigh, causing the flowers to sway and the candle flame to dip for a second. “Well, wherever you are now, I hope you like this. I think I did all right. I’ll drop some hints and maybe other people will come visit, too. You did a nice job around this spot, so I think someone will find it to be a peaceful sanctuary someday.”

~*~

They say that if you find the flowers seen nowhere else in the world that grow near a memorial to two lovers, you should pick one of each and exchange them with someone you care for, as a sign of your own eternal dedication to your heart’s love.

 ~End~

Chapter Two

 When morning arrived, Sausage was surprised by how refreshing it felt to have those first rays of sunlight reach him. It was like going straight from knock-out tired to wide awake. It was no wonder Scott had always been up at the crack of dawn when he had been a floran in the other world. “Mmm, that’s so nice and warm! I don’t even feel like I want breakfast or anything! Maybe a little water, though,” he added thoughtfully, as Scott made the vines lower them to the ground before disassembling the hammock and returning to normal placement.

“We’ll find some on the way,” Scott said, although he was now standing there gazing at him with a dreamy smile.

“What?”

“Umm, nothing. This way.” Scott took his hand, his expression soft, then they started off for the day’s trek. Sausage had a light-hearted smile of his own as he squeezed Scott’s hand, and for a while he stopped worrying about the overgrowth he left behind with each step.

.

A short while later they reached the edge of the mesa, with red sand as far as the eye could see and spires of terracotta rising all around. Sausage ran ahead to see if any greenery would spring up, and sighed loudly in relief when the sand stayed bare. “Hurray! Okay, good, I was worried I was going to cause some kind of floral apocalypse or something!” He laughed nervously.

Scott eyed the sprigs of jungle grass that had suddenly begun to creep out onto the sand toward Sausage. “Don’t count that possibility out just yet…”

Sausage groaned. “Aw, come on, now! I’m still trying my best to not make it happen!”

“We’ll go further away where you won’t get distracted by what is growing, and then I’ll help you figure it out.” Scott took his hand again to drag him away from the jungle’s border, although this time he did so mostly in order to feel out how much power Sausage was leaking into the ground.

It felt much like the light of his halo when Scott had been experiencing the side effects of winter. The man simply radiated rampant energy. He supposed that was all part of his personality, but he would still try to help him get it under control. Maybe it simply needed to be redirected…

“Hey, look, more ruins!” Sausage slipped his hand free as they came around one of the larger spires and ran over to begin investigating. It was the architect in him, Scott thought fondly with a smile. He did give pause, however, when he saw just how big the area of the ruins was once he took a better look around. It appeared as if dozens of colorful if not eroded towers had fallen, with one particularly large building looking like it had been split down the middle.

Scott hurried after him. “Sausage, be careful – this looks old, but the ground could still be unstable.”

“Yeah, I know – but the sand has been filling it in.” Sausage pointed to where the red sand had been blown by the desert winds to pile against the base of the structures and over most of the fallen onion domes as well. They still picked their way through carefully, until they reached a spot where the mesa ended and there was a dip toward gravel and stone.

Scott’s gaze followed the line of a crack going from the mesa out across the empty gray expanse until he saw some other buildings – more towers, which were tilted, white and topped by faded pink domes lined with prismarine. Sausage joined him a moment later; and then a moment after that, some greenery began to poke out of the stone, although it wilted soon after. Scott moved closer to investigate. “Sea grass… This used to be an ocean. If I had to guess, shifting tectonic plates caused it to drain, and affected those towers out there.” He pointed.

“I, ah, don’t think I want to try to go out there and check those ones out. These are enough to explore around in, you know? And this is exactly what we need so I can learn, right?”

“Yeah, it’ll do. And if we want to check your progress, we can come back here to see how much sea grass you accidentally summon.” He smiled teasingly while Sausage grumbled.

They returned to the ruins and chose a space away from any gaps in the ground. Scott clapped his hands together. “Okay, we’ll start with focusing on what you can already grow on yourself. Put out your hand and think about growing a fern frond on your palm.”

“That sounds weird.”

“…Imagine you’re holding a feather,” Scott suggested, realizing that floran logic might not immediately help.

Sausage held out a hand then pinched his fingers together. A small frond grew, winding its way up between his thumb and index finger. He grinned. “Hey, it worked!”

“Good. Think about it falling off – drop the feather.”

Sausage opened his fingers but the frond stayed. He pinched it again, giving himself the mental image of a feather, then tried turning his hand downward to ‘drop’ it. When it continued to remain attached, he shook his hand rapidly. “I mean… I’m not used to consciously dropping feathers when they’re attached to my wings. They molt on their own.”

Scott moved closer and clasped the fern-bearing hand. “I’m going to try something. Let me know if this hurts.” He grasped the middle of the fern and mentally asked it to let go, as if it was the same as one planted in dirt. The stem separated from Sausage’s hand. Scott held the frond up with an inquiring look.

“Nope, didn’t hurt. I barely felt that. What, uh, does that mean if I grow something else?”

“I think you’ll need to ask it to remove itself.”

“But… you didn’t say anything.”

“Not out loud. I think it, and the thought reaches the plant through floran energies.”

“What.”

“Like you pulling a flaming sword out of thin air. Or, I assume that’s how that works. You ask it to appear.”

“That’s more like reaching into extra pocketspace.”

“Oh. Hmm…” Scott tried to think of what else to compare it to. “Well, like Pearl calling on you from the other side of the realm, and you do what she says because of that connection.”

“Huh. Okay. I guess I’ll try it out.”

.

They spent the day practicing, with Sausage serving as the only surface for plants to grow on, ranging from producing more of the same type of flowers he already had in his hair to summoning whole other ones. Scott was relieved that nothing grew out of control; he wouldn’t want Sausage to end up completely covered in blossoms or foliage.

When the afternoon began to wane, they moved to poke around the ruins a bit, looking for a stable piece of architecture to shelter under for the night. They chose one of the smaller onion domes that was laying on its side with only a minimal drift of sand blocking the opening. Scott was starting to miss the feeling of dirt under his feet, but it was necessary to remain there for a little longer. If it ended up bothering him too much, he figured they could always head back to the jungle.

“Meh. Sand in my fronds,” Sausage grumbled as he tried to get comfortable laying on his back. “Nope. Hammock was better.” He huffed in annoyance and rolled over onto his stomach, putting his face down on his arms. Then, muffled: “Nope. Sand in my mouth.”

Scott laughed quietly. He waved a hand over his arm repeatedly, growing a long strip of moss. He removed it then folded it up into the approximation of a square. “Here. Use a pillow. It will dry out by morning, but it’s better than planting your face in the ground.”

“That sounds like some kind of nature horror stuff that I don’t even want to think about, oh no.” Sausage pushed himself up to sit back on his knees, then accepted the improvised pillow. “Thanks. I guess I should try doing that?” he asked, watching Scott fold up another one.

“Mm, maybe after more practice. You might end up making a whole blanket. I don’t think I want to spend more than one night out here, anyway. Florans rest better with soil nearby.”

“Oh. Is that why I feel kinda itchy? And not from the sand in my fronds.” He twitched his shoulders as if to shake off the annoying grains.

“Ah, so you did notice. I was wondering if you would, since you aren’t used to everything florans experience.”

Sausage yawned. The sky outside was steadily darkening. “You’ll have to tell me in the morning…” He settled onto his side, snuggling his head against the moss pillow. “Oh, yeah, this is much better… Good night!”

~*~

Sunrise woke them, and although the warm light was streaming into the dome unfettered, something was making a rhythmic tink, tink noise off of it. Sausage wandered over to the opening and poked his head out, peering upward. “Uh, Scott? It’s raining.”

The other floran was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and didn’t quite catch on. “Huh? But it doesn’t rain in mesas…”

“There is exactly one cloud. Right above us. And... I think… someone is standing on it.”

That got Scott’s attention. He came over to look, squinting upward. “If we’re florans, then it makes sense for others with powers to be here. Might be a subtype of thunderborn.”

A voice called down to them, “Did someone say thunder?” The cloud grew darker and lightning crackled along the underside. A small boom of thunder followed. The two ducked back into the dome, just in case.

The cloud lowered into view, but the figure standing upon it was much taller than even the dome, so only the legs and bottom of a short chiton could be seen. Sandaled feet stepped off onto the sand, then the person leaned over to look inside. “How’s it goin’, fellas?” A face with brown eyes and a green stripe in dark hair grinned in at them. “Hello, I’m Joel, local thunder god. Thought I’d check in on things. Although, yuck, standing on the ground is weird. Also, this hurts my neck, so why don’t you come out here and we’ll have a chat.”

The two florans glanced at each other, then Sausage took Scott’s hand and led the way out. The godling sat down on the cloud as if to not tower over them too much. Scott smiled with some amusement as Sausage fell right back into his old habit of putting himself in front of potential danger first, despite Scott being the more experienced floran.

Joel looked at their clasped hands. “Well, isn’t that kind of cute. I heard you’re the new nature sprites in town.”

“Florans, actually,” Scott corrected. “We’re only here to help.”

Joel muttered under his breath, “Doesn’t look like you’re doing much to me.” Then, louder, he said, “So, what’s the plan for here? Were you going to turn this into some kind of oasis? I could probably help out, too. You need more water? It looks like you might need water. Since, to my knowledge, plants need that to grow.”

Sausage let go of Scott’s hand and rubbed the back of his neck, realizing they had possibly been wasting time while he struggled to get a handle on things. “Well, we really only came out here because I’m more powerful than we expected.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s very humble of you to say.”

Sausage bristled. “Hey, I can’t help it! I used to be a seraph before we got here! Very powerful angels, if you didn’t know!”

“Right, right… So, what are your names, so that I’m not calling you ‘Floran One’ and ‘Floran Two’?”

“I’m Sausage, this is Scott. He was a starborne. Y’know, also powerful, moving the stars themselves—”

“Yeah, I know about those. I remember getting complaints from them when we blocked up the sky at night while they were trying to help sailors navigate. As if they were above us, when we control the actual atmosphere.”

The florans traded looks again, mutually uncertain about the pronoun change. “A-Anyway,” Sausage stammered, “I needed some practice first, then we were going to get to work.”

Scott eyed the cloud. “Although, now that you’ve mentioned it, some extra rain wouldn’t hurt. We’re supposed to do some terraforming, too, and if we’re going to transform barren areas, that means rerouting rivers.”

Joel chuckled once. “Part of us thinks you aren’t meant to turn the entire planet into a lush paradise. That part would be me, with my own opinions. Deserts and mesas still have their purpose. I think this world’s overseer meant to fix the broken parts, or heal over the scars in the land – whatever way you want to phrase it – with your piteous floran powers. You’d never be as powerful as me, after all, but I can’t be bothered keeping track of how much rain each type of flower needs. But this particular place is only suffering from regular time and erosion. Like you say, a little extra water could change that. I can show you some really ugly spots.”

“Now who’s being humble,” Sausage muttered.

“Maybe just point us in the right direction,” Scott suggested. “Then we can fix up anything we happen to find on the way, and come back around if you decide to, say, dump a ton of rain over here.”

“I suppose I could do that. If you go back the way you came, on the other side of that jungle you were in, there are some uninhabitable plains to the west and then some mountains to the southeast of there. You’ll know them when you see them.”

Scott gave pause. “Wait, you’ve been watching us since the jungle?”

“Yeah, that’s where we first saw you walking around.”

Sausage blurted out, “Who is we?”

“Um. Rude.” Joel scoffed. “Never you mind.” He did, however, look uncomfortable for a second. “Anyway, I think it’s time to be getting to work. Don’t have all day to fix up a planet, and you’ve got some walking to do. I’m sure you plant-types aren’t interested in flying anywhere. I mean, you might fall through the cloud, and then what would I do?”

Sausage’s bottom lip wobbled, and Scott thought he might start some sobbing theatrics about his loss of wings, so he pushed his partner toward the far side of the dome. “Yeah, we’ll be on our way. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

Joel stood and waved as the cloud lifted up into the sky. He then zipped off, apparently not following through on the promise of rain.

“Weather gods. Right,” Sausage commented flatly.

“Don’t tell me that gave you flashbacks, too?”

“I couldn’t control rain, so not really.” Sausage flicked the fronds hanging close to his neck. “Let’s go. I’ll do some practicing on the way. I have a sudden urge to make myself useful.”

“You’re not going to let what he said get to you, are you? I honestly don’t think he was trying to rub it in. He barely knows anything about us. He’s probably used to lording over mortals. And we don’t really count as those, right?” Scott grinned and nudged him in the side with his elbow. “And now that you’ve got the hang of summoning whatever flowers you want, we can do what we love best – arranging a garden.”

Sausage smiled at him in response.

They casually made the journey back over the sands. When they neared the border Scott tilted his head a little, squinting with uncertainty. He jogged the rest of the way, then halted.

A lot more foliage had crept out onto the sand.

“Whoops…” Sausage put a hand to the back of his head. “Eh-heh. The plants really are going to keep coming to me.”

“Call this a field test, I guess.” Scott sighed, hoping all the practice had helped. He gestured for Sausage to walk ahead.

The other stepped over onto the actual dirt, a tentative look on his face. A small bit of the grass grew taller around his foot, but shrank back to normal height when he lifted it. He gave Scott a hopeful grin, then put a finger to his lips. “Shh, I need to think.”

Scott smiled with a brief chuckle and nodded. They set off again, with Sausage leaving minimal disruption in his wake this time. Scott decided the growth at the mesa’s edge must have happened overnight while Sausage was asleep and couldn’t consciously keep hold of the power he sent into the ground.

They should probably stick to spending nights in a tree for the time being.

.

By the next day they reached the other side of the jungle, emerging into the area that they had seen from the treetop and, presumably, was the one Joel had indicated. The soil was desiccated, most of the ground appearing gray, although it wasn’t all stone. The chasms littering the area were intimidating up close, but they cautiously investigated. With Sausage holding onto his arm for an extra anchor, Scott leaned over the side to get a look at what they were dealing with.

“Hey, so—remember how you said this looked like a lot of lava? That’s… not lava down there.”

“What else would it be?”

“I think it’s liquid redstone.”

“Okay… What do we do about that?”

Scott moved away from the edge and contemplated the distance between that particular chasm and where the jungle ended. “Well, you’ve learned to limit your power. Let’s see what happens when you cut loose. We can use roots to break through this tough ground and see if it will fill these in, burying all the redstone. We’ll probably end up with like a bunch of ditches in the process. But let’s start with one of them at time.”

He motioned for Sausage to follow him. He made sure they were within the boundary of the jungle before going to the closest tree. He waved his hand down the base of it and out over the grass. He kept his hand out as he turned to the ruined land. The ground started to buckle. He raised his hand slightly and the end of the root broke the surface so he could show Sausage what he was causing to happen. He then lowered his hand, and the root burrowed back into the soil.

Scott moved to line his arm up with the nearest chasm. The line of buckling soil continued to move until it reached the edge of the chasm. Scott flicked his hand sharply, then whipped it back and forth. They could hear the cracking sounds as the root thrashed, breaking off pieces of stone that tumbled down into the chasm. The light from the river of redstone was peppered with shadows as the debris landed in it.

Scott paused, waiting to see if that would accidentally set off some kind of adverse reaction, but after a moment the light went back to a solid glow. He smiled over at Sausage.

The former seraph rubbed his hands together. “Alright, let’s see!” He put both arms out, palms pointed at two different trees, then he thrust his arms forward. Scott nearly lost his balance as the ground heaved. Multiple raised lines appeared, speeding out across the ruined land. With a rumble, the affected roots burst upward out of one side of the chasm and shot across to the other, destroying the top edge in one pass. Sausage yanked his arms backward, and in a messy array the roots turned around, punching down into the next level of stone then back across the chasm.

He repeated the motions several times, wearing away that section and causing neighboring spots to start crumbling.

Scott summoned up a different root, making it grow to lift him up higher so he could watch the progress, leaning over the boundary of the jungle. Within minutes the glow from the redstone river had dimmed.

Sausage crowed with laughter. “This is fun! It’s kind of like unleashing holy fire! I think I’m getting the hang of this power even better this way!” He twisted one hand through the air and two of the roots zigzagged across the far ends of the chasm, completing the collapse. It was still going to be a hazardous gap in the ground, but now they knew they had an effective way of filling it in.

They could work on leveling out the land after the rest of the chasms were dealt with. One by one, they directed roots to break up the soil and stone. Scott tried coaxing several at a time, but he couldn’t compete with the dozens Sausage could manipulate. That certainly made things go faster, so he wasn’t about to complain.

After a point they needed to stop and prepare a spot for the night. Scott had Sausage stay on the border of the ruined land and simply stand there while grass began to work its way into the tough soil toward him. The much smaller roots would break it up enough to allow water to permeate the ground later. Maybe Joel would happen to come by and help speed that up. Scott couldn’t tell if there would be regular rainfall here or if it was like the mesa.

He made some vines form another hammock. The thought did occur to him that spending the night out in the center of the ruined land could also speed things up, although maybe only after they were sure the ground was stable enough.

~*~

The next two days were spent wearing down the sides of the chasms until all of them were reduced to sloping furrows. They continued to work with the roots to loosen and rearrange the ground until the area more resembled rolling hills, sans greenery. By the third day Scott deemed it safe to sleep out in the middle of it. He crafted sleeping mats out of woven vines with moss pillows again while Sausage practiced making a shelter out of available large tree roots, eventually shaping a decent lean-to.

They awoke to the sound of rain, although the ground closest to them was only getting wet because of stray raindrops. Peeking out, they saw a very precise circle of clouds leaving them with a little island, since the tough soil wasn’t absorbing the water as quickly as regular dirt, even with their efforts to break it up.

Joel swooped down on a white cloud, stark against the dark storm clouds. “Nice work, fellas. You made some decent progress. I’ll leave this here for a while. Maybe you’ll get a new stream from it. See you later!”

Just like that he was off, cutting upward through the storm clouds. They closed up after him.

Sausage looked around at the growing puddles. “Should we go somewhere else and come back later?”

“I think we take the day off. Or at least take a passive role. Come on, sit back down.” Scott held a hand out toward him after returning to his mat. Sausage hesitated, eager to keep working, but when Scott beckoned, he came over and took his hand, kissing his knuckles before sitting down beside him. Scott put his arm around Sausage’s shoulders, gently hugging him against his side. “We might get a little sleepy from lack of sunlight so it’s okay to take it easy. Not that we couldn’t travel to some place where it isn’t raining, but, y’know, we did a lot of work the past few days.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You’re always so restless,” Scott said affectionately. “You can think about spreading the grass toward us. That will help, too.”

“Hm-m. Okay.” Sausage peered out at the rain, picturing the edge of the jungle in the distance, then closed his eyes before drawing in a breath. He spread his hands out flat, as if smoothing a blanket. “I’m thinking about a carpet of grass over this whole area.” He held the pose for several seconds, then opened one eye to take a look.

“It’s not going to happen that fast. You’re not that powerful.”

“I know,” Sausage said in a sulking tone. “I just thought I’d try.” He laid down with his head on Scott’s lap, twig halo pressing into his hair. “I kind of want to get this done fast so we can go home, but at the same time I kind of want that home to be Heaven’s Reach? Pearl’s realm is nice and all, and also like home, but I still miss our home. This world has to have a place that looks like that, so maybe it’s better to stay here longer until we find it, and we could do a little something special to make it look like Heaven’s Reach, and it would be our mark on this world. A personal mark, not just what we’ve done to fix things.”

“We could do that…” Scott smiled down at him and traced a fingertip over the swirl pattern now making up his scar.

Sausage smiled softly back at him. “That storm god mentioned some mountains. Maybe we’ll find a place there.”

~*~

The rain tapered off shortly before sunset, so the two florans only took a quick walk around to check progress. The former chasms were now small ponds, but it would still take a little more time for greenery to reach them. Sausage was happy to see that the grass had actually advanced over the past day and he repeated his blanket-spreading ritual before they settled down again for the night.

The next morning, they decided to let the plants do their thing without extra help and set out to find the mountains Joel had suggested to them. Given the direction he had said they were in, Sausage and Scott figured he didn’t mean the mountain range that was at the far side of the area they were currently in.

Along the way they patched up any rough spots, calling up new growth where it looked like the greenery was struggling, and they used tree roots again to burrow around in search of more accessible water tables. They sprinkled around biome-appropriate flowers and improved the flow of streams where mud and gravel had spilled across interrupting the water’s path.

They came upon a set of cliffs with some type of ruins having fallen to the bottom when the top ledge had given way. It wasn’t as massive as the mesa ruins, but they did find a pit full of amethyst crystal shards, already partially buried by a landslide. They decided to cover it up some more so that a future explorer might dig it up later and get a shiny surprise.

Continuing on their way, they found traces of colorful stone along what might have been a road at one time. There were signs of an earthquake that became more apparent the closer to the mountains they got, until they had to start climbing over large chunks of rock that had clearly fallen down the mountain slopes.

Even though the temperature was dropping, they pressed onward to find out why Joel had singled out this place when it honestly looked like simple, normal erosion had been in play again. Their first clue was streaks of a red substance on the ground that wasn’t like the liquid redstone. Inspection revealed it to be some type of soil, but nothing was growing on it despite it cutting through regular grassy areas. In fact, when Sausage tried coaxing some grass onto it, the grass shriveled and died.

Scott glanced up ahead past a rise in the path. “Whoa.” He tugged on Sausage’s arm and jogged over the rocky hump. Before them, laid across several peaks and shallow valleys, were whole swaths of the red soil, along with the blackened scars of cooled lava flows.

Sausage studied the landscape. “I think we’re going to have to get some trees up here first before we can even begin to tackle this one. Any ideas for the red stuff? Do you think if I stand on it long enough it will become normal dirt?”

“You could try. Just don’t get hurt by it. I’m really not sure what that is, but it’s obviously preventing the land from healing itself. From the looks of this basalt, it should have been long enough for the grass to spread. There doesn’t seem to be a caldera, so this came from fissures, and had to have happened decades ago. I’m going to look around some more.”

“Okay! I’ll be right over here. Standing.” Sausage walked onto a grassy area, purposely leaking power so the grass would grow around his footsteps to make sure it responded, then he chose a block of red to stand on. It was about half a minute before he got antsy and started walking along the whole line of strange soil instead.

Scott explored for a while, taking in the extent of the damage. There did seem to be a concentration of the substance in one particular area, and below it was evidence of a large lava flow that had gone all the way down that side of the mountains. He returned to the other area and crouched down, placing his hand against the ground to get a sense if any plant life might have a memory of the fissures. What he got instead was a flash of extremely powerful magic that had been released, leaving an impression like a shockwave. It wasn’t what had caused the eruption or the corrupted soil – as the plants now told him it was called – but that magic had put a stop to the spread.

There was then a… silence, as if all life in the area had been temporarily quelled, and the plants had only resumed their existence – unfrozen, as it were – when the world itself began to breathe again.

Scott contemplated what that meant as he headed back to where he left Sausage.

“Hey, Scott! Look! It’s woorrrkiiiiing!”

The red around where he had been walking seemed to leech away, replaced by blue-green soil instead, and even a bit of grass had begun to grow at the edges. “Maybe I should give that a try,” Scott mused. He stepped onto the next nearest line of corrupted soil and walked back and forth, thinking about it turning blue-green.

After a few minutes nothing changed, whereas more of the spots around Sausage had done so. The former seraph halted and shrugged. “I guess it’s a ‘me’ thing. You could maybe work on something different? There’s a valley over there that looks okay. You could get a flower field going.”

Scott debated on what he wanted to do. “I’ll see what I can do with the basalt patches. It might be easier for me to get roots to start breaking it up than to do what you’re doing. And we should go collect some pinecones from the trees further down. I think it would be fine to sleep on the ground here, but we’ll still need some shelter for the night.”

“I’ll go get them! You see what you can do, then we can make a plan of attack!”

By the time Sausage returned, Scott had covered most of the basalt lines with a thin layer of grass. He hadn’t touched the ones in the spot with the biggest concentration of corrupted soil, choosing to leave it for another day – or even for an overnight campsite after they got the trees set in place.

“Let’s start them in that valley and after they’ve produced more pinecones, we can spread them out.” Scott took a few from him. He tossed one up into the air and neatly caught it, smiling. “This part shouldn’t take long.”

Chapter Three

 As with his effect on everything else, Sausage could get six trees to grow at once. In no time at all they had a small forest on the rise, filling the one valley and taking purchase in available soil along the higher elevations before spilling over into the next valley. It was there that they found a cave that had partially collapsed. Old runes were carved into the walls but since they were unable to read any of it, they left everything alone. Scott decided that sleeping up in one of the new trees would be better than using the cave – lest they wake up with the entrance blocked off by the taiga ferns that had sprung up with the trees. They went with a nest of branches since there weren’t any vines available for a hammock this time.

They were a little slow to wake up the next morning due to the cold but got to work after a bit of lounging in the sun. Sausage converted more of the corrupted soil then moved on to increasing the grass on the basalt patches while Scott went around calling up flowers and some sweet berry bushes to coax animals back to the area. He also grew some trees close to the central corruption area in preparation for that night.

When it came around to sunset, they stood outside the temporary tent formed out of roots and surveyed their work. Sausage was pleased. “It looks like a completely different place already! I think we can get this last part taken care of tomorrow and then find someplace new. Um, someplace warmer would be great, too. I’m not getting Heaven’s Reach vibes here, anyway.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, I have to agree with that. At least Joel hasn’t been by to dump snow on us.”

“Oh, don’t let him hear you say that! He might think it would be helpful, or something.”

They soon cozied up under a moss blanket after sealing the fourth side of the ad hoc tent to keep out a little more of the cold, snuggled close for extra warmth. Yet, partway through the night, Scott was jarred awake by a shriek from the land. He threw off the blanket and looked around in alarm. Sausage was still fast asleep. Was he unable to hear the plants screaming?

Either way, Scott felt driven to find out. He lowered one side of the tent to crawl out. He gasped loudly and scrambled to his feet for a better look. Pillars of the corrupted soil encircled the tent, curving inward almost like claws. The cold was gone, replaced by the heat of fresh lava flows. He stared around, horrified to see all of their work undone.

Everything around him was screaming in the way of nature being destroyed by an unnatural source. This wasn’t a normal eruption. Someone had done this. But he… didn’t see or hear anyone else. There was the sense of a presence, but… no one was there.

Then a pulse of pale blue energy rippled out from the center, exactly where the tent was. It passed through Scott and he could tell it wasn’t Sausage’s energy. It was cold, though. As it continued outward, the earth became quiet.

This was the magic that had temporarily paused time.

Scott realized he was having some kind of vision. He plucked at one of the flowers in his hair to check; it hurt, so he was awake right now. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to gain from this knowledge, but felt like he should resign himself to accepting they would have to fix the whole place again.

However, as the magic’s shockwave got further away, it faded out, and then the pillars and lava faded away, too, leaving him with the healed land – and the sight of the corrupted soil previously left from the night before now changing as the blue-green replacement made its way toward the tent.

Scott felt relieved that the plan for Sausage’s power was working as intended. He pushed the vision out of his mind for the moment and returned to sleep.

.

When he next awoke, he felt like he was being jostled around. Struggling to find full awareness after his disrupted sleep, he at least figured out that he was being carried in Sausage’s arms. The other floran looked slightly distressed. “Saus-? What-?”

“Sorry, things got weird back there.”

“Did you… have the vision, too?”

“What vision? No, um, there’s just…” Sausage stopped and put him down onto his feet, holding onto him to help him remain upright while Scott shook off the vestiges of sleep. “Well, look.” He pointed back toward the tent.

From between the new stand of trees Sausage had retreated to, Scott could see several deer, including a stag with a rather intimidating set of antlers. Most of them were nibbling at the ground. The stag was staring directly at the two florans.

Sausage ducked his head and hissed, “I thought they might try to eat us! That stag was sniffing at you but I got us past him. Why was the tent open? You were out cold even though the sun was up!”

“I think I… had a dream. I must have been sleepwalking, and subconsciously lowered it.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve never sleepwalked before. I watched over you for an entire winter and you never once woke up during the night. Honestly that was kind of worrying!”

Scott patted his arm. “Well, something weird happened to me last night. But, um, I don’t think we need to worry about them eating us.”

“But we’re part plant! We probably smell tasty!”

“Sausage.”

“What? Wouldn’t they be scared of us, then? Because we’re people, and deer are skittish.”

“Or, they understand we’re a mix of both.” Scott stepped forward, keeping eye contact with the stag. It watched him as he slowly approached until he was close enough to hold a hand up toward it. It lowered its head and sniffed his fingers, then briefly nuzzled his hand. When it raised its head again, turning away, the sunlight glinted off its antlers as if they were gilded with gold.

The illusion faded as it walked away. The two florans watched the herd forage around until they moved away into the next valley.

“Huh,” Sausage marveled quietly. Scott meandered off, collecting pinecones. “So, more trees on the agenda this morning?”

“Might as well extend the forest to give them a bigger territory,” Scott replied with a soft smile.

~*~

“Oh, so now they’re befriending the wildlife?” Adelfa rolled their eyes. Their expression seemed to become even more disgruntled as a series of trees began to pop up far below the clouds.

“Why not?” Joel asked. “It goes hand in hand with plants, right?”

“They shouldn’t get too familiar with anything. It’s not like they’ll be sticking around.”

“I don’t see how that hurts anything. They seem to be doing a pretty good job so far.”

“Well, then take some notes. Go dump a blizzard on them.”

“Why? I don’t think they’re built for the cold, and they can’t exactly set up a fire to keep warm or they’ll turn themselves into kindling.”

“Because I said to.”

Joel squatted and poked a hand through the cloud. He pretended to be feeling around for something. “Hmm, nope, sorry. Wrong atmospheric conditions.”

Adelfa’s face reddened. “How dare you—”

“Hey, you’re the one who decided we wouldn’t bother with the weather anymore. So now I call the shots.” He grinned, proud of himself for standing up to them.

Adelfa then gave him an unamused look. They separated off their portion of the cloud; Joel didn’t bother to watch them leave. He set off a light snow flurry, perhaps in the hopes it would signal the floran pair to move along before Adelfa chose a different way to antagonize them.

~*~

Sausage shivered as something icy landed in the fronds at the top of his vest. He turned, then looked up. “Snow? Oh, no. That’s not good.” He jogged over to where Scott was putting the finishing touches on a patch of light blue flowers. “Hey, umm… Can snow trigger winter mode for florans? I don’t know if this is Joel or is just happening. We probably can’t do anything about it either way, so… What should we do? Hole up somewhere in case we fall asleep, or go somewhere warmer?”

“I’m not feeling a seasonal change, so it’s probably normal mountain weather. I’d say we’re done here, anyway. Let’s head down. I’m sure it will turn into rain on the way.” Scott looked out over the area. Even the blue-green sections were nearly covered up by regular grass now, and the snow accumulation would help, too. He smiled and nodded.

.

They had to do some climbing here and there on the way down, but with Sausage purposely leaving a trail of greenery it was possible future travelers would find an easier path. Once they were on flatter ground, they found more remnants of the colorful road going the opposite direction away from the mountains. They checked on areas to either side of it, and camped out in a tree along the way, but as the clearly marked part of the road gave way to mere stepping stones in the brush, they began to see evidence of flower fields.

The further they walked, the greater a wistful feeling settled over both of them. There were traces of another volcanic eruption, but here nature had done the work by itself to regrow over it. Even more flowers sprang up with each step Sausage took. He glanced back at one point, then grinned at Scott and took off running. Blossoms of all types popped up as he went. Scott gave a grin of his own and ran after him, consciously asking flowers to grow.

The flowers answered in plenty.

They were laughing by the time they crested a hill, although both stopped when they saw what stood in the middle of the fields: a gigantic, single-stem white lily. Scott’s smile softened. “Well, what does that remind you of? Bit of a sight for sore eyes.”

“See, that’s what I miss about our old home, too! I hope the lilium praegandis is doing all right without us.”

“I’m sure it’s doing fine. …Hopefully it isn’t too lonely, though.”

They made their way over to the lily, noticing how there were fewer regular-sized flowers around it. Actually, they now saw small barren spots, too. Sausage walked over to one of them in case it was another corrupted soil situation. He halted as he started to lower his foot, then raised it, then placed it down completely. “Huh. Something feels… weird.”

“Bad weird or strange weird?”

“Umm… You tell me. What does it feel like to you?”

Scott went over to a different barren spot. He knelt to put his palm down on it, bracing himself for the weirdness Sausage might be talking about. His face brightened. “Sausage, that’s not weird – that’s something trying to talk to us.” He kept his hand pressed to the ground while turning to look around. “I think it’s coming from…” His gaze landed on the giant lily. “…I guess that should have been obvious.”

He walked up to the lily and gently placed both hands against the stem. He drew a sharp breath as his sight blurred. The landscape changed as it came back into focus, revealing that the barren spots were where other, colorful giant flowers used to be. There had been thick clusters of regular flowers on the ground surrounding them all.

His view blurred again, then resolved into the same flowers but now all of them were in shades of gray, including the stalks of the giant ones. Fire crisscrossed the land, burning everything except the giant lily. He saw the flames die down, then could feel the energy flowing out of the lily into the land where it repopulated the regular flowers, but it couldn’t fix where the other giant ones had been.

“Scott? Um… Hello??”

Scott blinked. The vision faded out – and Sausage’s concerned face faded in. “Sorry. Apparently, this world has really zeroed in on the fact I’ve been a floran before and is sharing the land’s memory of the past with me. That’s what happened up in the mountains.” He pointed to the nearest bare patch. “There used to be more giant flowers here, but something drained the spirit out of them, and there was also a fire. This lily is extremely magical, and fixed up what we see now. But…” He put his hand back on the stem. “It needs help to fix the rest.”

“Regrowing giant flowers sounds like something right up my alley.” Sausage turned to begin addressing the problem, but Scott grabbed him by the wrist and held his hand while keeping his other palm against the lily’s stalk.

“Floran field lesson. Can you hear that? Or… feel it, through me?”

“Uh, not really? What am I listening for?”

Scott now pressed Sausage’s hand against the stalk. “Try listening with your other senses. Try to feel the energy without physically acting on it. Or maybe not that last part. I forgot for a second who I was talking to.” Scott made an amused face.

Sausage looked puzzled for a moment – attempting the listening part and not acknowledging the extra comment. Then he held out his other hand and made a grab and pulling motion away from the lily.  He uncurled his fingers afterward and stared down at his palm. “Is it… something about tapping into its magic, not ours?”

“Good, you’ve got the gist of it. It wants us to redistribute the magic that grew it.”

“But doing that… it doesn’t feel like there’s enough magic in there to grow other giant flowers!”

“We’re probably only supposed to use it so regular ones grow in these spots. I think the time of giant flowers might be over.”

Sausage gently petted the lily’s stem. “I was hoping we could name you in honor of our lilium, but I guess not…”

Scott patted Sausage’s arm, then the two got to work, drawing out power from the lily and directing it to the barren spots. As clusters of small flowers began to grow, the color slowly drained out of the lily.

~*~

Joel could sense Adelfa’s rage and zipped around the sky if only to find them and tell them to stop ruining his day by projecting emotion in such amounts that he felt it, too – which might have contributed to his anger about it, come to think of it. He didn’t want to feel what they felt. He shouldn’t be feeling what they felt.

He found them stomping back and forth on a cloud over a flower field. Below were two figures – oh. He should have guessed. “What is it now?” he demanded before merging his cloud with theirs.

“They’ve gone too far! They’re supposed to be repairing things, not destroying things!” Adelfa pointed sharply.

Joel opened a hole in the clouds to have a peek. “I only see flowers,” he said flatly.

“That one, you buffoon! That was a primal nature power source! How dare they!”

Now he noticed the single giant flower, and memory stirred. “Oh, that thing. I don’t see why you’re mad about it? We couldn’t get it to heal that land, but maybe it decided to cooperate with them. Maybe they were less pushy than we were.”

“No. Nothing in nature defies me! It was meant to remain as it was!” Adelfa swiped a hand through the air, closing the hole. “Thunderstorm, now! I want some precision lightning strikes to remind them that they don’t ultimately have power here!”

“Hmm, I don’t know. All those nice, new flowers need sunlight to grow stronger. It defeats the purpose if I block off the plants from feeding so soon after they came back.”

“Joel!”

He gave an innocent smile. “Oops, wait, I just remembered I need to go check on that rainstorm over the archipelago! You still want a couple of islands left there, right? Bye!” He quickly split off his own cloud again and hurried away.

It had been so tempting to pull almost the entire cloud out from under Adelfa. All the gods traveled by cloud as a convenience, but that was all they could do with them. He now controlled the skies, and it was time for Adelfa to acquiesce to that.

~*~

Scott and Sausage decided against mourning the giant lily as the last of its color disappeared. It had sacrificed itself to finish healing its lands, which was a dedication they were very familiar with. Once again, they slept the night through up in a tree, and the next morning was spent running around the fields sprouting more flowers. It was a pleasant respite after the extent of work needed in the previous places. For Sausage, it wasn’t the same freedom as flying, but it was exhilarating in its own way. This was fun, where the other stuff had been work. He didn’t mind that of course, but it was nice having something to truly share with Scott again, which they hadn’t quite had since the time when he had figured out a way to fly as a thunderborn and Scott had been an angel.

Flowers – gardens – that was something they had always had together. These fields were a wonderful reminder of that.

Grinning mischievously, Sausage ran toward where Scott was arranging tall peonies and tackled him with a hug, lifting him up to spin him around. He lost his balance, and they both fell over into some tall grass, but they laughed. A quick kiss and a playful tussle later ended up sending them rolling down a hill, but they laughed again as they tumbled out into another patch of tall grass.

Scott was first to his feet and helped Sausage up, then they took stock of this new area. It was more fields, less hilly than the previous area, but lacked all trace of flowers. It had the appearance of purposely flattened ground, albeit completely overgrown.

As they took a better look around, Sausage’s expression went from lingering amusement to vaguely troubled. There were no structures that were immediately visible, but something felt disquiet to him. He pushed through the waist-high grass and sought a source for the feeling.

Scott noticed his sudden distress. “Are you okay? Did you get a vision this time?”

“No, something just feels… off about this place.” Sausage continued to look around. Nothing was standing out to him, but the unease wouldn’t go away. He retreated back toward the hill. “Maybe – uh – maybe you can check this one out, and I’ll, um, go around it to find the next place that needs us to work on it.”

“Okay,” Scott agreed, a little confused. He didn’t feel anything odd at the moment, but didn’t press Sausage for more. He waded into the overgrown grass to hunt around for any damage. He didn’t see any traces of volcanic activity this time, so he waited for a vision to give him clues.

When it did kick in, the scene took his breath away. A giant beanstalk was winding its way into the sky, with small man-made structures perched along it. Nearby was a modest farmhouse and a few outbuildings; it instantly reminded him of Pearl’s realm. His sight blurred, then refocused… and everything was on fire. He then noticed two figures flying around the beanstalk. They seemed to enter one of the structures. A minute later only one of them flew away.

Scott tried to make out some details about the person. However, he didn’t really get a chance before an ominous creak drew his attention back to the beanstalk. It swayed and began to topple toward the farmhouse. He instinctively dived out of the way, but the vision faded before the beanstalk landed. He came up coughing out dirt from his slide across the dry ground. He wondered if the intensity of the land’s memory was what had made Sausage nervous.

“Are you okay?” he heard Sausage call.

“Yeah! Just another vision!” Scott dusted himself off. He assumed they weren’t meant to grow a new beanstalk, but this place might need something to chase away that shadow of the past.

Meanwhile, Sausage walked a very deliberate route around what might as well have been an invisible bubble until he was nearly opposite the hill he and Scott had rolled down. He located the remains of a stone wall and sat upon it, drawing up his legs to prevent too much power from leaking into the ground, although the area was already grown over enough that he doubted he could add more to it. He hugged his knees and vacantly watched as Scott wandered around several meters away.

“Oi,” came Joel’s voice from somewhere above to his left. “Getting lazy, now? Why are you letting him do all the work?”

Sausage glanced over as the godling drifted down on a cloud; it dissipated and his feet touched the earth for once. The former seraph still had to look up at him. “Nah – I decided to have a rest! I can’t take all the glory!”

“Aren’t angels supposed to be all about glory?” Joel asked with a slightly sarcastic tone. He sat down and folded his legs, resting his wrists over his knees. He was at about eye level now with the other up on the wall.

“Well, there’s more to me than just being an angel! I have hobbies and other things I do! Or well, I had more when we were in our previous mortal world. I’m my god’s official architect and one of her seraphs. Actually, I think I’m the only one…” Sausage mulled that over for half a second. “I don’t think I’ve even seen any others before! Maybe on missions out of her realm, but this is the first time I’ve been out in a while, so maybe I might be forgetting. This is more like a vacation, really, even if it is technically work. Between you and me, I’d still kind of prefer being able to fly.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s the best part of being a powerful godly figure, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m not godly, myself.”

“But aren’t seraphs like an extension of their god? You have some authority, right? An architect is pretty important, too, as I understand it. I don’t have one of my own yet, we only made me about two weeks ago, so I… well, don’t even have many followers yet. Mortals are still worshipping us in general.”

Sausage cast a questioning look at him, one eyebrow quirked. “Seriously, why do you keep saying ‘we’ sometimes? Is it a royal ‘we’ thing that gods do in this world? I’m not judging if it is, I’ve just never heard a god talk like that before.”

Joel lowered his gaze, eyes sliding to the side. He absently rubbed his knees. “Up until two weeks ago I was part of the nature deity. They separated the part of their essence that controls the weather to make me. Couldn’t be bothered with keeping track of the weather, they said. I’m still… adjusting to having my own identity.” He then muttered, “Not sure why I’m telling you this. You’re one step up from a mortal, how could you relate?”

“I can, though,” Sausage said, having heard him perfectly fine. “I’m pretty much bound to duty. Comes with being a seraph. If PearlescentMoon calls, I have to answer. When I first revived as a seraph, she sent signs for me to come back to the celestial realm but I had no clue what was going on because I forgot who I used to be, so she literally dragged me back there through a portal! And then I had to fly back and forth all over the place doing tasks, and I didn’t really have a choice! But I was preoccupied with what I left behind, so I resented it for a while, but after things worked themselves out, I accepted that it’s what I was meant to be doing.”

“What you left behind, where? What do you mean, revived as? Don’t angels, like… ascend the ranks, or something?”

“The last world we were in had this crazy system of changing people into something different any time they died! I arrived there as a guardian angel, and became a whole bunch of different things, but then I reached the point of fulfilling my duty there, so then I was promoted to seraph rank, and then I was meant to go home.” Without looking, Sausage nodded meaningfully to indicate the field where Scott was. He smiled softly.

“Oh, so you had to leave him behind, I take it. If you were there because you were an angel, what does that make him?”

Sausage scratched his beard in thought, then shrugged. “Y’know, I never thought to ask. I didn’t even find out I was probably called there in the first place to be his guardian angel until after I was back in the celestial realm, looking in on him when I could get a chance. For all the power I had, I couldn’t go back. I had to follow my new duties.”

“Hm.” Joel abruptly stood. “Well, that’s enough chitchat, I think. Speaking of jobs to do, I should go sprinkle some more rain around for you fellas. Don’t you go sitting around here for too long – there’s much more of the world for you to see before you go home again.”

“Ahm—” The question Sausage was about to ask went unspoken as a cloud formed under Joel’s feet, lifting him up into the sky. Sausage tilted his head back to watch him leave. “Aw, come on now! He is rubbing it in, I just know it!” He uttered an exasperated sigh, then lowered his gaze to the field – then he gave a start when he saw what Scott had been up to while he had been obliviously talking to Joel.

The whole place was covered in sunflowers now.

Scott was on his way over. Sausage hopped off the wall, but still couldn’t bring himself to cross the invisible border. “S-Sunflowers?” he questioned. He was still unsure why everything here was making him queasy.

“Yeah… it’s the only flower that will grow here.” Scott shrugged. “I tried for more variety to brighten up the area, but if this is what the land wants, then so be it. Looks a little prettier, at least.”

“Um. Yeah. Yeah, it does look better.”

“What were you and Joel talking about?”

“Oh, you noticed that? I think we were commiserating, actually. Seraph stuff, newborn god stuff—”

“Newborn god?”

“Yeah – apparently, he was part of the main nature god up until… what did he say… two weeks ago? So, like, right before we got here! Something about wanting to put someone else in charge of the weather. I guess gods can just do that! Separate out parts of themselves into someone new!”

“So, like… splitting off a part of their soul?” Scott leaned into Sausage with a slight nudge of his shoulder, eyes turned upward as he tried to drop a poignant hint.

“Hmm, nah, I think it’s just a bit of their power, and then a new soul gets created by default. It would have to be a very powerful and very specific type of god who could make like a copy of their soul into another person!”

Scott chuckled, not bothering to clarify what he meant to the former wither.

[ A/N: Shout out to Cynthrey as usual for brainstorming parts of this, as well as a thank you to Cadmusfly for a single question that inspired an important addition I wouldn’t have thought of otherwise | Also credit to Cynthrey for additional details to Scott’s floran design ]

---

Chapter One

The two extra pairs of wings were a bit of a problem at first. They were great for maneuverability in the air but the rest of the time they just sort of… got in the way, until Sausage figured out how best to fold them all in while walking around. He had to switch half the furniture to backless stools, and doorways were an issue for a while as well, even though they hadn’t been much of one when he had only one pair.

It probably took far too long for him to realize that his middle pair of wings were actually larger than his old ones.

Sleeping was a chore, because if he didn’t lay on his stomach then one wing or another got pinned somewhere and he wouldn’t be able to move far until he sorted out which one was where. During a few occasional afternoon naps he would simply resort to being a heap of wings, which Scott would rest against, treating the mass of feathers like a cushiony pillow.

Yet more and more often Sausage was finding that he didn’t need much sleep at all. He began to return to old angelic habits of going out at night and smiting the undead, although there were plenty of times when he stayed home and merely watched over Scott as he slept, since florans were naturally less active at night.

Scott, meanwhile, would be awake on the dot at daybreak, ready to start drinking in as much sunlight as possible and spending almost all of his free time out in the gardens or in what ended up becoming one of two greenhouses.  Every plant he encountered would flourish, every seed started would sprout, and even the occasional weed that took root in the flower beds would seemingly relocate itself out of the garden boundary by the next day. When he talked to the plants they all seemed to understand, and he felt very much like they were keeping him company if Sausage wasn’t around; he had a literal connection to the flowers that bloomed in his hair and the soft, downy moss that had grown along dappled spots on his hands, forearms, feet, and lower legs.

Sometimes the two of them seemed a bit of an odd pair, with the angel in pristine robes and gleaming, gold-trimmed armor worn over them at times, the floran in dirt-caked overalls with the pantlegs rolled up and a short-sleeved shirt similarly dirtied from endless field work.

When he was out in the gardens puttering around, Sausage would fly overhead, casting shadows with each pass, either casually patrolling or simply reveling in being able to fly again. Every so often he would swoop down, calling out, “Hey! Hi! Hi! Hello!” in a cheerful tone then zip upward again, laughing. Seeing him have fun for a change brought equal delight to Scott, and it was joy they could also share when Sausage would carry him in his arms for an early morning flight to view the sunrise from above.

Either because of Scott’s abilities or the nature of some flora itself, random plants would sometimes just show up in the gardens. A rather unique one in particular appeared in the then-singular greenhouse in the ground level flower beds where Scott could swear he hadn’t planted anything yet. It had strange coiled leaves and one large flower that resembled a tiger lily with exceptionally soft petals that were variegated purple and pale orange. It had a mild scent, but none of those attributes helped identify it in any horticulture books.

He tended it like all the other plants, yet within days it had grown to take over half the aisle, sprouting more leaves and spreading. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he worried about the other plants being crowded out. Finally he asked Sausage to help him build another greenhouse just in case.

During a break from carefully digging surrounding plants out of what had been intended as their permanent beds, the seraph leaned on a shovel and studied the odd flower that kept growing bigger along with all the leaves. “What are you feeding this thing? Do you have some floran super power I don’t know about?”

“Nothing special,” Scott said with a shrug, setting a mini rose bush into a pot for transport. “Maybe it’s just one that does really well with extra love and care.”

“There’s doing well and then there’s this. I hope it doesn’t outgrow this bed. That’s going to be a lot of stuff we have to move.”

“There isn’t much I can do to stop it, to be honest, except ask it again to not spread anymore?  That, uh, hasn’t worked yet, as you can tell.”

“All right, well…we’ll move anything else we have to, then. We asked for gardens, now our cup runneth over.” Sausage offered him a little kiss to show he didn’t really mind the extra work.

He ended up eating his words later when the unusual plant’s leaves finally uncurled into a form of megaflora that filled the entire greenhouse with giant vines and massive new leaves, climbing up the walls and turning the place into some sort of localized jungle. It still only ever had the one flower, and they ended up calling it lilium praegandis just to be obvious. At least it seemed content to have the greenhouse to itself and didn’t spread beyond it. Scott would talk to it as he would any of the others when stopping in to water it or tidy up old leaves. Maybe it had just wanted somewhere to grow as it pleased, and a caring floran’s home coupled with the protection of a valiant seraph was the best place.

.

When the inevitable Blood Moon arrived once again, Sausage bid Scott to stay inside while he went out, eyes aglow. A twisting cyclone of holy fire came down to scour the mountaintop, and then the surrounding area, eliminating every last threat without harming the rest of the land. After that neither of them had any worry about the night or of times when the sky stayed crimson after sundown. The sheer amount of safety provided by the angel’s powers brought on what felt like a revolutionary concept: being able to live without fear of death disrupting everything.

Weeks of peace turned into a few months of quiet homemaking and garden tending, with generally the only change being the flowers in Scott’s hair switching out from things like azalea blossoms and daisies to roses and chrysanthemums, with the occasional green tendril that hung down like a stray lock of hair. These Sausage would tuck behind the floran’s ear as an affectionate gesture, but otherwise he was always careful not to touch the flowers, not wanting to hurt Scott; he had seen him wince one time when the floran had picked a bloom from his hair himself, and wasn’t sure just how painful that might have been.

After a time, small sunflowers began to appear in his hair again, and then one day some yellow maple and oak leaves grew in between the blossoms. Whether coincidence or not, Scott suddenly began sleeping in rather than being awake by dawn.  Soon he was remaining asleep a little later nearly every day, making Sausage become a little concerned.

Then came the day when the seraph returned from a smiting mission well after the sun had risen due to an especially stubborn infestation of zombies that had been attacking a village. Only partially to his surprise, Scott was still sound asleep in bed. “Hello, sleepy beauty,” he greeted after waking him with a soft kiss. “Has taking care of all those plants finally worn you out?”

Scott mumbled something unintelligible, the kiss not really enough to make him fully awaken.  Folding in his top and lower pairs of wings then tucking his middle pair over them, Sausage climbed into bed beside him to cuddle and kiss him some more; Scott nestled against him and even dozed off again, unbothered by the fact that his own habits were changing.

Sausage let him stay like that, lightly running a hand over his hair while avoiding anything more than brushing past a few flower petals. As it started to grow later into the morning, however, he moved so he could get off the bed then gathered Scott into his arms to carry him out the door. “Come on, my dear sleepy flower, time for you to get some vitamin sun.”

The floran only vaguely stirred and continued to rest against him as they went outside and into the largest of the gardens, where Sausage set him down in a big patch of sunlight. It was a few minutes before Scott stirred again and blinked up at him.

Sausage smiled softly. “Maybe you are getting worn out. I know you love them, but you spend so much time on the plants that maybe you’re not taking enough time for yourself? Especially the lilium greenhouse,” he added with a chuckle. “It has gotten darker in there with the way that thing is covering up the walls. I think it’s doing just fine, but you still need regular amounts of sunlight, my love.” He leaned over to kiss him again. “Maybe I’ll add a sunroom to the house and we can use that for naps and eating so you can make the most of the daylight.”

“Tha…soun’s good,” Scott mumbled. “Maybe I’ll… take a break from greenhouses… just sunbathe in the gardens more…”

The seraph nodded in approval. “Fresh air is good for you, too. They don’t need you there testing soil and water levels every day, you know.”

“But who else is gonna talk to ‘em?”

“They’ll be fine,” Sausage assured him with another chuckle, drawing him close for another little cuddle. Scott dozed off once again, but had a peaceful smile on his face as the sun warmed him, ever watched over by the angel who loved him.

~*~

He slept in again the next morning, and again halfway to noontime Sausage carried him outside to sit in the garden. He left long enough to get them both food, and then kept an eye on him when he wandered around checking on the flowers. That evening, instead of patrolling, Sausage built the sunroom as promised. He put a few small plants inside it for decoration but none that would require too much effort to maintain.

When daybreak rolled around he ended up carrying Scott from the bedroom to the sunroom and insisted that he stay there all day. He took care of any chores himself, including doing checks in the gardens and greenhouses just to make sure the floran would stay put. By the following day Scott had perked up more, although now there seemed to be more leaves than flowers in his hair, and before the week was out he wore a crown of just mixed red, orange, and yellow leaves.

Sausage still marveled at it, because he looked just as beautiful with it as the flowers, then something finally clicked.  The climate where they lived was mild year round and the changes of the seasons weren’t well-defined – plus they had always had other concerns on their minds than to pay much attention to the temperature – but now it was obvious: Autumn had arrived.

“You’re a bit like a seasonal timekeeper,” he commented as they collected the dishes from breakfast, admiring how the colors caught the light when Scott turned his head to smile at him. Sausage then gave an earnest look. “That might be why you’ve been so tired, actually. Shorter days, less sunlight. So you… might become even more sleepy when winter starts.” A troubled expression then came to his face.

Scott put down the cup he had been about to move to the tray. “What’s that look for? I doubt I’ll dry up like the leaves when the season ends. There are plants that do fine during the winter, you know.”

“Do florans need to hibernate in winter? It’s just, because you’re so sleepy, instead of going on as normal like fall flowers do.”

“We’ll just have to find out, I guess.” Scott tried to give him an encouraging smile as he took the last dish from his hand, placing it on the tray to bring it to the kitchen. “All in all, that wouldn’t be the worst thing we’ve ever faced, and I can’t really fight the nature of what I am now. At least we won’t have to worry about snow so much here, and I trust you to look after things while I nap.”

Now his smile became a bit cheeky, since they both knew that the seraph was more than capable of handling any issues that arose.

.

After that, Scott took to sleeping in the sunroom every night, Sausage leaving him alone there to avoid his wings blocking even the slightest of rays when dawn arrived, but would always check on him to make sure he didn’t sleep too much. Then, one morning, the colorful leaves in the floran’s hair had fallen off and were replaced by a small crown of ivy with snowdrop blossoms peeking through here and there.

Sausage gave a small, bittersweet smile when he saw. “End of the season, then. So… we’ll see what winter brings.”

Scott was ever so sleepy, but kept right on smiling whenever the angel checked on him. Soon he remained ensconced in the sunroom nearly all the time, only being active for an hour or two before once again dozing off. Sausage tried not to worry, and made sure he ate at least a little food and had fresh water at hand. He did attempt to not constantly look in on him – he wasn’t going to go anywhere, after all, and the rest of their home still needed to be taken care of.

Yet when the shortest day of the year came around and Scott didn’t wake up at all, Sausage stayed right by his side the entire time, holding his hand but comforted by the floran’s deep, steady breathing, knowing he was still peacefully sleeping with nary a dream to bother him. That night was, of course, especially long, but not needing any sleep himself, Sausage remained at his vigil.

Finally, during the following morning, Scott woke up again. He looked over to see Sausage there and he smiled softly. “Good morning, angel. Have I been out long?”

Sausage chuckled, grateful to see those spring-green eyes open again. “Over a whole day, you silly sleepyhead. I was beginning to miss you.”

Scott looked over to where the seraph still held his hand, and gave a reassuring squeeze of his own. “Well, you know I’m never going anyplace without you. Even if it’s for the entire rest of the winter, I’ll just be right here.”

“I should hope so. You wouldn’t make it halfway to the river without falling asleep again. Then I would just bring you right back here and tuck you under the covers, and wait for you to wake up again.”

Scott yawned and slipped his hand free so he could stretch his arms and his back a little. “That does sound like too much work. I think I’ll settle for a trip to the kitchen. And the gardens, if that’s okay.”

“Anywhere you want,” Sausage replied with a grin, standing then offering his arm for the floran to lean on while his limbs remembered how to move, just happy that he had the energy to want to go out. “…But you’re going to eat something before anything else.”

After a small meal they took a walk around to the gardens and greenhouses so Scott could apologize to his beloved plants for having been away. Sausage had to pick him up, however, when he started dozing off while leaning on one of the lilium’s giant vines, and whether by Scott’s doing or the plant itself, a smaller vine moved to try to hold the floran up before he completely fell over.

“That’s enough of making the rounds, my dear sleepy flower,” the seraph chided, nudging the door of the greenhouse closed behind them with one of his middle wings. “The rest of them can wait another day.”

“Okay, okay…” Scott yawned then smiled blearily up at him. “Is your halo brighter or is that just the sun..? Or is it ‘cause you’re so handsome and kind, carrying me around whenever I… need a nap...” He closed his eyes and nestled against Sausage’s chest.

Sausage merely chuckled, but now that Scott had pointed it out, he honestly wasn’t sure if he felt the halo burning more strongly. After initially reviving as a seraph, the warmth from it had faded to a minor background sensation, just sort of there but not bothersome. He could consciously dim his holy aura but the halo itself was constantly present, always giving off some kind of light. After he returned Scott to the sunroom he went to take a look in a mirror to see for himself.

It was different from the halo he’d had before, which had been a simple circle directly over his head – much like the one Scott’d had as an angel, although his had also had additional rays coming off of it, like Sausage’s did now, except as a seraph there were even more of them. He couldn’t tell if it was meant to be intimidating or just an expression of ‘radiating’ power; the memory of different types of angels came to him again. Before he had been at the lowest of the tiers, while Scott had somehow become one somewhere in the middle – if he remembered correctly – and now he himself was one of the highest. He didn’t know why this latent knowledge kept coming back to him. He remembered teaching Scott about angelic things when he revived as one, but Sausage had to wonder why it preoccupied so much of his mind when there had been just as much to either learn or intuit from everything else he had been since then.

Maybe it was merely a matter of starting as an angel and returning to being one, regardless of level. And yet…could he have been something before that? Had Scott ever been something different before they met, too? Well, maybe that was too much existentialism for the moment, and perhaps it was best to just hope that they stayed what they currently were for many winters to come.

Out of curiosity, as he returned to the thought that Scott’s question about his halo had raised, he let his aura shine unfettered. His reflection then nearly blinded him – he could barely make out his own outline. Dimming it back to normal, he laughed nervously. “Um, wow, haha, that was something—” He stopped short when he caught the reflection of someone else in the corner of the mirror. He quickly spun around. “Scott-?? Hello??”

No one was there. He glanced back into the mirror. The other reflection was gone. The only person it could have been was Scott…but if he wasn’t still asleep he would have responded. Also, Sausage could swear the other reflection looked like it had long, golden-brown hair.

~*~

Eventually the daylight hours began to last longer, and Scott became a little more energetic again, not sleeping as much throughout the day. Finally, the crown of ivy was replaced by small flower buds, heralding the approach of Spring. As more days passed the buds grew and then the welcome sight of purple crocuses and yellow daffodils began to appear.

Sausage felt a prickling of relief when the blooms opened, as if the wait through winter had held some kind of tension akin to anticipating the other shoe to drop; but that might only have come from a place of always awaiting the next inevitable death. Soon the floran was back to his usual activities out in the gardens, and the flowers in his hair cycled out more by choice than being dictated by seasonal limits, back to depending on if he wanted a particular perfume or just let a colorful mixed bouquet decorate his head.

One confusing day, however, while it was still in the Spring months, a small, leggy sunflower appeared in his hair, drooping over his forehead to the point of annoyance. Scott pushed it up several times while trying to clean the kitchen. Sausage then watched with concern as the floran closed one eye while tugging on the stem. “Hey, wait, let me at least get the pruning shears first!”

Scott sighed impatiently but let go of the sunflower. “Sorry, it’s really annoying. I didn’t ask it to be there. This never happens.”

“I guess weeds can grow on you, too, even if that isn’t technically a weed.”

“Well, either way I don’t want it. It’s still too early for sunflowers.” He sighed again but allowed Sausage to go get the small pair of shears, holding still as one might for a regular haircut when the seraph carefully parted the other blossoms to find where the sunflower sprouted from.

One quick clip and he pulled it away, then turned to add it to a vase by the window that held other cut flowers from the garden. “There. Better?”

Scott patted at his other blooms in their nice, organized crown and nodded, smiling. “Yes, thanks.” The remaining part of the sunflower’s stem would fall out on its own later, he knew. “Will you help me in the big greenhouse today? The lilium is shedding a lot of old leaves this week.”

“Oh, great,” Sausage said, feigning sarcasm. “That will do wonders for the compost pile. We’ll need a silo just for that soon.”

Scott laughed as he headed toward the door but came to a halt when he opened it and found a giant sunflower waiting right outside. There was another barely a meter behind it, and another beyond that. “Umm, Sausage… I think something weird is going on. Unless you put these here?”

“Put what where?” The seraph glanced around the corner, then saw the sunflower outside. “Nope, I didn’t do that.”

“There are quite a lot of them.” Scott walked out and started to follow what seemed to be a trail of the tall flowers, with Sausage now right behind him. The line went more or less straight to the church, and when Scott pushed open the door they saw that the sunflowers had come right up through the floor, leading to one wall where a dozen of them crowded in front of a mural of a woman in a green dress holding a stalk of wheat, fields of crops in the background and images of sunflowers at her feet. “Saint Pearl,” Scott intoned respectfully, gazing up at her. “I never really asked you much about this church before. Was there a reason you built it for her, specifically?”

Sausage thought back but oddly found that he didn’t quite remember. He decided to keep that realization to himself. “She’s the saint of harvests, and sharing a bounty is a sign of generosity and good will, which is something angels aspire to. She also bestows the favor of victory in battle.”

“Ah, I see why that appeals to you.” Scott cast a knowing smile at him, then looked up at the mural again. “So, if sunflowers are her symbol…do you think she’s trying to tell us something with all of these? Although, I kind of hope she’ll leave me out of the message-sending from now on.”

“Maybe.” Sausage studied one of the sunflowers growing out of the floor. “They led us to the church, which is a place for worship but also a place of safety from the undead. It could be a warning,” he said grimly, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if something else comes for us, now that we’ve survived this long without changing again.”

“Another Blood Moon? Haven’t had one in a while, now that I think of it.”

“Huh, yeah… We did go the whole winter without one. Although it would be nice if those stopped altogether, since they didn’t even used to happen. I wonder what changed to cause them in the first place?”

“Apparently the world wasn’t dangerous enough already,” Scott snorted. He then patted the sunflower closest to him. “Well, let’s just be extra careful then. If you go out at night, maybe don’t fly too far, and I’ll set some root snares around to warn me of anything that wanders too close. I know you can smite anything just by looking at it, but being cautious won’t hurt.”

“Oh, come on, I can’t literally do that, it would be way too overpowered if something actually could! But, yeah. We’ll play it safe until it’s more clear what she’s trying to tell us.” Sausage placed a hand on the mural and looked up at Saint Pearl’s face. His eyes then widened slightly. “Wait, I think I also saw her in the mirror one time! She was there for just a second – so she may have been trying to tell us something for a while, maybe it’s getting closer, that’s why all the sunflowers now.”

“You… saw her in a mirror? That’s a bit bigger than just some flowers.”

“I was, um, checking my aura. I guess I made myself into a beacon that caught her attention. I’m kind of hard to miss like that, you know?”

“I remember. Well, I don’t mind an extra helping hand, and… I guess sunflowers aren’t the worst thing that could grow on me.”

They left the church and returned to their plans for the day, with the addition of choosing spots for the warning snares Scott would set up before nightfall. The traps were effective for several nights in a row after that, catching mostly zombies, which Sausage left to simply burn in daylight instead of going out to personally smite them, preferring to stay on guard close to the house while Scott slept – after the initial triggering of the snares woke him.

But they soon learned what the possible warnings had been for when during one sunset the land fell dark and rather than a Blood Moon there was no moon at all. No stars. Not because of cloud cover, either. There was just pitch black darkness and eerie silence all around outside. Abandoning a casual late dinner, Sausage barricaded the front door with some barrels and stood by the other one, listening. He cracked it open to eye the small courtyard, which was lit only halfway out from the door by the nearby lanterns before any other light was swallowed up.

Scott put a hand out to try to coax the glowberry vines on the end of the eaves to produce more fruit and combat some of the darkness, but it still didn’t extend more than that scant meter out. Sausage let his aura shine through just a tad bit more to be his own source of light as he cautiously stepped out to have a look at the sky, counting on making it quick so he didn’t bother to get his armor yet. Scott was right behind him, a hand on one of his wings so they wouldn’t lose track of each other if the darkness spread further in.

There wasn’t a single sound, no telltale zombie groans or bones clattering, but they stayed wary. Sausage once again tried to see if there was even an outline of the moon anywhere, edging out just past the walls. “Somehow this seems even worse than the Blood Moon.” He then peered out toward where the rest of the mountaintop should have been. “Something is out there, though. I can sense it.”

As if to confirm, Scott went still and gripped his wing tighter as his floran connection signaled him through the ground. “One of the snares just went off. But it didn’t catch whatever it was.”

Before they could retreat back toward the door they both saw a shadow flit at the very edge of the range of light given off by the seraph. A sibilant voice came out of the darkness, murmuring, “This is almost like a moth drawn to a flame…and I see a pesky insect right there…”

Unsure of how close they actually were or what type of creature the voice belonged to, Sausage tensed and spread one of his top wings toward Scott to cover him, cottoning on to the suggestion in the words.

“I can still see you,” the voice threatened. “Time to pay for the sins you have committed, flower boy!” The blade of a large scythe swung down out of the darkness, cutting right through Sausage’s feathers. It missed Scott by a hair; the floran jumped back a step and made the branches of a nearby azalea bush grow to shoot out into the dark and stab back at whoever was there.  The branches drew back a moment later without seeming to have hit anything, though.

Having merely lost feathers and not actually wounded, Sausage turned and tried to locate the attacker. He considered letting his aura go to its full brightness to try to light the whole area, but didn’t want to blind Scott in case he still needed to defend himself before Sausage could step in. He didn’t know why the assailant only saw his light without acknowledging him—

The voice came again. “Hold still, little bug. I have weeds to cut back.”

Ethereal, smoky black chains snaked out of the ground at Scott’s feet and latched around his legs. Startled but still reacting quickly, the floran took advantage of the moss growing on him and was able to immediately slip one foot free while only the moss was sheared off, the chains unable to grasp tight to him.

At the same time, Sausage’s eyes widened, reminded of the black mist from the Enigma’s curse that had taken down Scott before. He had to find out what exactly they were dealing with. He risked glowing brighter, and with that additional light he saw a figure in a hooded black robe, two menacing magenta eyes focused on Scott as the reaper raised the scythe again – then in a split-second they leapt forward to close the distance, bringing the blade down toward the still-anchored floran.

Well, Sausage decided, if the scythe could sever his feathers, then the rest of him would be solid enough to it, even if the reaper themself didn’t see him.

Having to give up on freeing his other leg, Scott’s reflex was to use the azalea branches again to try to block the scythe – but to his horror they pierced through Sausage’s wings when the seraph abruptly threw himself in the way. The blade sliced across Sausage’s chest and into his unadorned left arm.  The reaper cursed about having missed again.

Scott hastily pulled the branches back and started to apologize, but Sausage waved him off with his right hand. Disregarding his own blood dripping onto the ground, the seraph steadied himself and glared toward the reaper. He then reached up and a flaming sword appeared in his right hand.

This the reaper was able to see, their eyes drawn to the blade. “What? No! That can’t be!”

They didn’t get a chance to protest further as Sausage wasted no time driving the sword into them. The scythe – and the chains – evaporated into nothingness, then the reaper crumpled to the ground, dragging Sausage with them as he kept his hold on the sword, continuing to glare at them with fury. When their body dissipated he used the sword to hold himself up while his other hand clutched at the gash across his chest. He looked down at the splashes of blood now collecting on the ground, then saw Scott’s hands come into view.

They were shaking, and then they were red as he touched the wound on the seraph’s left arm. Once again glowberry vines extended to try to curb the bleeding. “Don’t die, Sausage, please don’t die,” he heard the floran plead.

“I’ll…try not to...” he attempted to promise with a smile, although he needed to put his head down because, well, angels could still feel pain, and now it was catching up to him.

[ A/N: I’m going to retcon the first chapter of “In Light and In Darkness” to be canon to this universe (so please give just that chapter a read for things to make a little more sense in this one. <3 ) | Thank you to Joey Graceffa for an ongoing iconic line that fit into the plot of this fic perfectly. ]

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Chapter Two

 The wounds weren’t deep this time, Scott tried to tell himself, as he directed the vines to wrap around Sausage’s arm, chest, and the places on his wings where the branches had struck him. And at least there was no withering effect this time. There hadn’t been anything extraordinary about the reaper’s scythe – aside from it being a grim reaper in the first place and not some generic hostile or Blood Moon-fueled mob. He preferred to not find out who they actually had been, even though the voice did have some familiarity to it.

But those words.

The sins you have committed.

Scott was suddenly gripped by the image of the wing held over him, feathers sent flying as they were cut off, then the well of blood from the scythe cutting across Sausage’s chest. His memory suddenly transported him to another night where there were white feathers scattered around him and blood was all over Sausage’s neck, flowing out from two matching puncture wounds. Scott tasted copper on his lips and he looked down with blurring vision at the blood on his hands.

It was…It was my fault.

“I’ve caused all of your deaths, Sausage. You’re not safe around me.”

He didn’t remember when he said those words, but he heard them clearly in his mind.

He could see Sausage in front of him right now, six wings, holding his wounded arm with his good hand, breathing heavily, and not dead yet. But memory flashed again, and an angel with one pair of wings was held in his grasp, drained of blood.

A wither, hair turned white, laying on the floor before him…

Electricity flashing over water…

The look of dread as an arrow wasn’t prevented from reaching him…

Scott’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Burned and singed from an explosion…

Smaller, gray feathers and a quick spray of blood…

Memory after memory, time and again.

The tiny cave, where all that was needed was a solid barrier to prevent from being followed…

Blood, his blood, forever on Scott’s hands.

He didn’t even notice the flash of silvery light and was only brought back to the present when Sausage, still in seraph form, caught him up in a hug and swung him around once in a celebratory circle. “I’m – I’m fine! I’m okay! This is – This is me, I’m staying this way!” Sausage was laughing in relief, and Scott managed a smile when the fact registered, but after he put him down the floran’s gaze was drawn to the blood that had soaked into his robes on either side of where the gash had been, now healed by angelic powers.

He nearly flinched when Sausage put a hand on his shoulder and asked, “Are you all right? Is your leg okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m…not hurt. Just a little itchy, from the moss…” Scott ducked out from under Sausage’s hand and stepped back, pretending to doublecheck his legs. He tried to focus on the exposed green dappling on his skin instead of the feathers scattered all over the ground, but he wondered if things really were all right…

~*~

The sunflowers were becoming a bit of a problem. Even when Scott was able to get them to replant themselves, more would pop up, blocking the doors and growing in the middle of pathways. He tried giving them their own section of a garden, and even resorted to transplanting some into a huge swath around Wither’s Grasp just to give them a home without destroying them, but they just kept appearing. Tall ones at the windows. Small ones growing out of cracks in the walls. A few appeared on the roof. When they started growing in his hair again and pushed out his other flowers, the floran began to get frustrated again, not as willing to be a messenger anymore.

“Nothing else has happened yet, what is she trying to tell us?” Scott grumbled as Sausage trimmed the latest half dozen small sunflowers out of his hair, even though they would likely just grow in again the next morning.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should check the church again? They haven’t shown up in the greenhouses yet, right? I didn’t look…” While Scott had been relocating sunflowers, Sausage had been patrolling, constantly on the lookout for any threats that might be part of another warning.

“Not as of yesterday. I’m pretty sure nothing will get into the lilium’s greenhouse, anyway. Actually, I think I would be worried if they did show up in there. Let’s check that first, then go to the church. Honestly, if this doesn’t become clear soon I’m going to start throwing them all in there.”

Sausage gave an awkward laugh. “That, um, that might be kind of blasphemous, don’t you think?”

“Well, is it not kind-of rude to use me as a surface for message sending? My other flowers are suffering, and that’s not fair. Are other plants not considered part of a harvest?”

“Point taken.” Sausage put the pruning shears away in the kitchen drawer that had become their new closer-at-hand location, then followed the grouchy floran outside.  As had become the norm, they were greeted by tall sunflowers to either side of the path, an array of yellow spots across the distance between the villa and the greenhouses. A quick peek inside showed none present among those plants, and much to Scott’s relief the lilium remained alone in its greenhouse, although there was a creak from the walls as the giant vines shifted. A smaller vine moved out from the side and nudged the floran’s arm, and he quietly promised he would come back in a little while to tidy up the leaves.

He had become a little preoccupied dealing with all the sunflowers, after all, as well as some other things that had been on his mind.

Then, upon nearing the church, they saw that the door itself was completely blocked. As they made an attempt to get to it, Scott noticed the flowers had grown just far enough apart to form a walled path away from the door toward the side of the church. “I think we’re supposed to go this way,” he pointed out, and cautiously stepped into the corridor created by the tall stalks.

Sausage tucked his wings in tighter to avoid getting caught on any of them and followed. The path funneled them right into the cemetery, which hadn’t seen much use when people tended to come back to life not long after dying, but Scott couldn’t stop himself from staring at one particular grave even though the ground had been resettled long ago.

Sausage looked around for anything out of place since the sunflowers stopped at the cemetery’s border. “This looks the same as we last left it. And we’ve been pretty good at avoiding permanent death, so…maybe she wants us to repurpose this? Might be a good location for a fountain, or another altar or something – you know, it would make sense for a tribute to a harvest to be outside, in the sun and rain, kind of natural, really.”

Scott was about to comment, but then he felt movement on his head and he reached up. The petals from his entire set of flowers came cascading down off of him, littering his shoulders and the ground around him. A new crown quickly grew: all sunflowers. He stood stock still, completely stunned, staring at the multicolored petals on his hands.

Sausage took a step toward him to ask if he was okay, but then there was an odd whooshing sound as a portal made of what looked like glowstone appeared behind him. He had barely turned his head toward it when a hand reached out of the crystalline blue surface – a hand with a bracelet made of tiny sunflowers – and grabbed him by the arm.

Sausage looked from the hand to Scott, his face panicked as he was yanked into the portal. The last thing the floran heard from him was a desperate shout of, “I love you!!” before the portal closed and the frame shattered, leaving him alone with no answers, only accursed sunflowers everywhere.

~*~

“Hey, I know you can be a little distracted sometimes,” said a feminine voice while Sausage kept his eyes squeezed shut against the dizziness of interplanar teleportation, “But you really kept missing the message, huh?”

He peeked one eye open, then both went wide as he gaped at the figure from the mural become flesh and blood before him. All around them were the fields from the image, as well. “P-Pearl?” he stammered.

“Don’t you remember me? Have you been gone so long that you forgot? You did build a church dedicated to me, you silly sausage.”

Memories came back to him in a rush. That was how he got his name. He had always been an angel. He was from the celestial realm. He had grown up in the domain of a farming goddess. He had been her architect. He had… He had received a calling. Pearl wasn’t just a saint. She was a god. His god.

He tried to say something but all that came out was a confused squeak.

“You know,” Pearlescent drawled, “When an angel is called to be a guardian, they’re not supposed to fall in love with their charge. But, you always have been a little different. I mean that in a good way, mind you. I couldn’t be more proud of you. You were such a good protector for so long even without angel powers that you earned a new rank, and that meant you could return home!”

“What— But— Th-That was my home! I – I don’t want to be here, I want to be with him!”

Tone more curious than accusatory, she said, “So, you’ve forgotten about how you said you didn’t want to leave here, that you wanted to stay with me forever? You really are an odd one. But I guess that adoring loyalty transferred to him when you found your exact calling there.”

He did remember saying that, now. It made his heart hurt, knowing how much he had loved her – but not in the same way that he loved Scott. “H-How do I go back?”

“You can’t.”

“But – why not?!”

“Those are the rules. I don’t make them. You fulfilled your duty, and now, as a seraph, your place is here.”

He stared around at the fields that stretched out toward the horizon on all sides, the flat land broken only by the silhouette of buildings that he now remembered designing long ago. “But…w-what about what I want..?”

“Rules are rules, sorry, Sausage.” Pearl made an apologetic shrug, then gave the situation more thought and smiled somewhat slyly. “Although, if you defeat me in fair combat you might get a chance to make your own rules.”

He stared at her, mortified. “I can’t fight a god!”

“You just defeated a grim reaper like, two weeks ago, was it? You are the most powerful rank of angel there is. If anyone ever stood a chance, it would be someone like you. We can have a few sparring matches, and maybe you’ll find a way to win.” She grinned, always up for a good challenge – and it was her making an attempt to distract him from what would likely be a problem on his mind for a while.

His distressed expression revealed his reluctance. “ I – uh – I might need to think about it. Am I at least allowed to send him a sign that I’m okay, or-or look in on him, to see how he’s doing? H-How did the rules of a calling decide when I was supposed to stop watching over him? How is he going to be protected now?”

“I suppose he has everything he needs to protect himself now.”

“But he’s…alone.” Sausage’s shoulders and all six wings sagged.

Pearl reached out to gently touch his arm. “Look, don’t tell anyone, but seeing as you’re still my favorite, you can use the reflecting pool in the royal gazebo. You can’t communicate with him directly, but… I’ll help you sneak in a divine sign somewhere. Just make it a good one so he can’t miss it.” She winked and together they walked toward the center of the fields, while Sausage began thinking about what the best way to signal the floran would be.

~*~

Scott was at a complete loss of what to do. This wasn’t the same as sitting and waiting for Sausage to revive. This wasn’t like making changes around their lives and adapting to new abilities. But at least he refused to think that wherever Sausage was now, he was anything but dead.

Scott would…

He would be patient.

A little bit of research revealed that it had been an Aether portal that had appeared. That plus Sausage’s angelic nature led him to surmise that the seraph was now somewhere in the celestial planes. Aether portals could only be created by celestial beings, so he couldn’t exactly build one of his own, but he kept thinking about it as he went to bed that night. He didn’t really sleep, however, floran night instincts overridden by the sight of the empty spot Sausage would have occupied. Scott knew he couldn’t fool his brain by thinking that he was simply out on patrol.

He still looked over when dawn broke, but there was no angel-shaped phantom there. Scott sighed and got out of bed, made breakfast just for himself, and started on a mental list of all the things he could do to keep busy while he waited. He could start with all the chores he hadn’t done yesterday.

Oh, and all those wretched sunflowers had to go.

But when he opened the front door there weren’t any in immediate sight. In fact, the only flower that was out of place was a shorter, white one with a silver cast to it – although about the same size in diameter as the tall sunflowers – with six large petals that almost appeared to be shaped like…the broad section of a wing? There were smaller petals layered underneath them that were feathery in appearance. A hopeful smile broke across Scott’s face. It could only be a sign from Sausage.

Remembering what the seraph had said about repurposing the cemetery, Scott went and built an altar of his own there, covering up all evidence of graves with a blanket of moss and making it more of a memorial shrine, with a small fountain on one side and a low centered dais where he could place objects. He carefully dug up the angel flower and relocated it at the end of the dais. He spoke quietly to it in the way he did with all the other plants, then stepped back and spoke louder, presuming that Sausage could hear him. “I know you’ll come back to me when you can. You always come back to me. I’ll be waiting.”

He stood there for a few minutes, watching in case there was another sign that Sausage had heard him. Even though nothing happened, he still felt comforted by the sight of the brand new, unique silvery-white flower.

.

Over the coming days Scott made a ritual out of leaving fresh cut flowers on the dais and rambling for a little while about his plans for the day. During a few evenings he would return with a lantern and sit beside the dais to watch the sunset, then take the lantern and go inside.

Meanwhile, Sausage found that the reflecting pool now automatically tuned to the memorial altar rather than needing Pearl’s help to focus on that area of the mortal realm like the first time when she had helped him shape and place his angel flower. Scott had unknowingly created the perfect focal point for him. He couldn’t always look in on him, though, since he had actual angel duties he needed to perform, attending Pearl at court like the old days and doing assorted building tasks.

There were other angels around, as well, and he had to keep up appearances but he no longer felt like he was one of them. As soon as time allowed he was back at the pool. Some days he made it in time when Scott was visiting, and he listened to him talk with a wistful smile. Other times he was late, and just gazed at the different bouquets Scott would leave. Occasionally he saw him sitting there at sunset and wished he could be there watching it with him.

As the weeks stretched on, Sausage started to pay more attention to the type of flowers in Scott’s hair. Then one dreadful evening he saw as the sky remained red after sunset. “Pearl! Pearl!! You have to do something! Or – let me do something!”

The goddess, having been calmly seated in her wicker throne and already knowing of the moon’s status, looked over at him and gently shook her head. But she did wave a hand and expanded the pool’s view to encompass the entire mountaintop. Scott was outside, battling mobs with a diamond sword and a wooden shield at hand as he made his way toward one of the greenhouses. Sausage clenched his fists, holy power crackling through his veins – what good was being a seraph if he couldn’t intervene?

Then, before his eyes, the walls of the greenhouse burst outward and the vines of the lilium praegandis lashed out across the area, coming to Scott’s aid. The massive plant made short work of the monsters, and the floran climbed up over it, finding a sheltered spot by the lone flower. Once the mobs were thinned out, Sausage could see him petting the stem in thanks for its help. He silently thanked it as well, now grateful they had let the darn thing grow so out of hand.

Sausage ignored a call to duty that came up during the night, refusing to leave the pool until the Blood Moon passed, watching as Scott spent the night hunkered down between giant vines. Pearl took exception this one time and ordered another angel to take his place.

She might have to do something about the seraph’s preoccupation soon, though. That calling was complete. Any other angel would have moved on by now. But as she well knew, Sausage wasn’t just any angel.

~*~

Scott was exhausted by the time dawn arrived, and even fell asleep in broad daylight while trying to retrieve pieces of the destroyed greenhouse – which was a small price to pay, really. He woke up a little while later with small vines curled around him and giant leaves shading him from the sun, perhaps so he could sleep better. The lilium had gathered itself back together, still happier, it seemed, to be in its own personal space. As he looked around, he saw that it had even picked up larger pieces of the walls and was holding them in proximation of their original locations.

The flower lowered and brushed its petals against him as if to check on him. He patted its stem in return. The smaller vines uncurled from around him but followed him as he walked, lending a hand – as it were – as he set about rebuilding at least part of the greenhouse. He spent the night there again, sleeping on a bed of interwoven vines with a giant leaf as a blanket, taking comfort in the fact that the care he had shown the plant was being repaid. It wasn’t the same as being in the embrace of the person he loved, but the lilium was communicating some kind of concern for its floran, and certainly all of the other plants were too small to outright hug him.

Something disturbed him during the night, whether a dream or the random screech of a spider, which he trusted the lilium to deal with, but it was the weight of the giant leaf against his back that kept him awake – and thinking. That weight, like a certain one that had once hung from his shoulder blades…

If he had also been an angel at one time, maybe there was a way to reach Sausage, after all…

.

Having no need for sleep, Sausage was more so weary from the stress of watching the night pass. Scott was safe from the Blood Moon this time, but if anything happened to the lilium, what then? Sure, Scott was perfectly capable of fighting, but he couldn’t take on what was basically an entire army by himself.

“Pearl. When can we have that sparring match?”

Having been about ready to order him to leave the reflecting pool, Pearlescent smiled instead. “If you actually attend your duties over the next five days, I can arrange something.”

Sausage was on his feet in an instant and nodded, his words falling over themselves as he promised he absolutely would, those would be the most attended duties ever, he would do anything she asked, right now, and in fact he was remembering something he was supposed to have gotten done an hour ago – and off he went.

It was true that during the time since his return Pearl could have asked any of the other angels to spar with her when the mood for a good fight struck her, and many of them were great fighters, literally born for battle – but nothing was at stake for them. It was just duty. She had opted to wait until he agreed, because he had a goal to fight for and that made all the difference.

~*~

Sword clashed against shield, blades glanced off of each other, figures dodged and weaved around obstacles placed in the small arena that was separate from the quiet agricultural grounds. A small audience of other angels and even a few minor gods with some free time watched from the seats above, intrigued to see the Farmer Goddess show off her battle skills against her lauded seraph. Many of them thought a mere architect wouldn’t be much of a fighter, but he was giving it his all, and there were quite a few near-stalemates before both of them would step back and reevaluate their respective tactics, then rejoin the fight.

Pearl inevitably won the upper hand several times, and Sausage would have to retreat to the side for a rest. Others would step in to try their hand against her for a while, but they bowed out when he returned determined to win at least once – or come as close as he could, and learn from that to do better the next time, because this would eventually have to end whether he succeeded or not.

And he failed.

And he waited for the next chance, after what seemed like too many extra days of work and assignments that had him flying all over the realm and further from the reflecting pool that was his only window onto what was happening in the mortal world. He knew Pearl wasn’t giving him such jobs to be spiteful, this was just what seraphs were supposed to do.

He wasn’t supposed to have become close with his charge, after all. He wasn’t supposed to get attached to the mortal realm to begin with. It just so happened that he was called to a world that had very unusual circumstances regarding what happened when someone died. And he changed, and he forgot, and his worldview grew, and he fell in love.

He wasn’t supposed to…But he did anyway.

.

One morning he was finally able to access the pool while Scott was at the memorial. There were a few yellow leaves in his hair and Sausage began to worry all over again, but he set it aside as he listened to him talk. Apparently he had been travelling around using his floran powers to help others, either minor things like crop management or full on rescuing villages during zombie attacks. Scott mentioned that it meant he wasn’t as alone anymore, although he did say that he tried not to stray too far from Heaven’s Reach for long because, of course, he still had the gardens to take care of.

He seemed…happy. That made it a little easier for Sausage to leave the pool and return to work, although the reminder about Autumn made him request another match with Pearl. He needed to try to return before winter.

~*~

Things were not working out as well as Scott had hoped, or at least not as quickly. His continued efforts to aid others, from those also with supernatural abilities to mundane villagers to neutral animals out in the wild, had earned him a heroic reputation, but there was no sign it was anything more than that. He didn’t risk anything he didn’t think he could handle without being certain for sure what might happen afterward, because he didn’t want to lose being a floran. If Sausage were to come back, he wanted him to see him happy with his gardens, and they could go right back to enjoying them together.

Maybe that was too selfish, and was what prevented the change he wanted. Or maybe it was just a delusion to think he could reawaken his own holy power, if just long enough to construct an Aether portal. Plus there were the words of the reaper that continued to haunt him, although he was reluctant to mention it when he was talking at the memorial. He might be— well, helping others wasn’t a waste of time, of course, but it could prove fruitless to his goal.

What if he had never truly been redeemed? Even though Sausage, even as a wither, had been redeemed. But after all, Sausage had started out as an angel. Scott hadn’t. What was he supposed to ultimately become? What would he return to?

.

Some weeks later Scott went to the memorial with clusters of Forget-Me-Nots in his hair along with some orange and red leaves, and he didn’t have much to tell Sausage because he was starting to feel tired. The bouquet he placed on the dais was made up of white chrysanthemums and purple hyacinth, coaxed into growing despite the season. He sat quietly for a while, thinking over decisions he might have to make before Autumn came to an end; if he should seek refuge with someone who would be willing to watch out for him during winter, or if he should try to relocate the lilium to a secure spot and have it watch over him, or…

Or…well, he didn’t know yet. Neither would be the same as the trust and safety he had known with Sausage over the previous winter.

He glanced skyward and watched the clouds for a while. There was nothing there to indicate how much time had been passing since Sausage had been taken away – except for them being framed by the tips of the leaves at the edges of his vision. He stood up and plucked one of the tiny blue flowers from his hair, then said out loud, “I love you.”

He remained standing there, and waited, hoping to somehow hear the response they had both come to understand held all the meaning in the world, and Sausage would finally reappear.

But after a few minutes he accepted reality again, and dropped the Forget-Me-Not onto the dais then whispered, “…I know…”  Then he walked away.

~*~

Sausage could tell that Scott’s smile was becoming more of a front. If he had to be honest, it looked like it would break at any second. The floran might have made some allies or even friends, but they were never present in any of the reflecting pool’s views when Pearl would occasionally expand its sight for him.  Everything else still looked well cared for when she did, though. But there was also more significance to the choice of flowers Scott was leaving, instead of the random assortment of whichever there had been an abundance of that he had started with.

Then there were the single blossoms laying separate from the neatly arranged bouquets. He began to suspect Scott was taking them from his own hair. This was confirmed when an orange leaf that didn’t belong to any of the trees in Heaven’s Reach was left beside a bouquet of mostly stargazer lilies and pink carnations.

He had the image of those flowers in his mind as he sat on the floor of the arena, defeated once again, and panted out the words, “Pearl… At least… tell me… that there won’t be another Night… of No Moon before Spring…”

~*~

Before he grew too tired – and admittedly too weak – Scott dug out a portion of the floor in the lilium’s greenhouse to create a small bunker of sorts out of obsidian but with access for the thinner vines. He had waited too long and didn’t have time anymore to go for the relocation strategy. This would serve just as well as a natural cave, if not better, anyway.

Instead of a bouquet and leaving it to chance that Sausage might hear him, he placed signs on the dais that said “Hibernating with Lilium. If you return before Spring, wake me up. Sorry for not visiting.” He plucked a snowdrop stem from his hair and left it laying in the middle in lieu of a signature.

On the first day of winter he let the livestock loose to roam freely, knowing he could just find new ones later, and then enclosed himself in the bunker space, surrounded by the roots that the lilium had spread into it. He had only the vaguest hope that it would be Sausage who woke him and not simply the passing of the shortest days of the year.

As he slept, completely unbidden the lilium pushed the roof of the greenhouse up so it could absorb more sunlight. Fibrous threads from its roots draped themselves against the exposed skin on Scott’s arms and legs, setting up its own system to pass along water and nutrients, once again intent on assisting its floran in its own way.

Winter passed quietly for him, with uninterrupted, dreamless sleep, with no reason to wake for even any few hours of daylight activity. The grounds of Heaven’s Reach went mostly undisturbed, the nightly roaming mobs unable to find anyone to bedevil, and anything dangerous that wandered too close was dealt with by the lilium.

.

Sausage, meanwhile, had just as many tasks as any other season, and now had less reason to be sitting around by the reflecting pool because the only thing to see was the signs and the dried out snowdrop, which was eventually blown away by a strong wind. The angel flower had bobbed into view a few times, standing strong through the weather and keeping vigil over the former cemetery.

The winter was not very peaceful for him. And he didn’t want to admit that he might be getting desperate.

He didn’t want to think too much about how there were actually other options for ways he could get back to the mortal realm.

During a trip to the celestial library to acquire a specific old tome, he ended up with extra time to peruse the books, and he had looked around for any accounts of other angels wanting to return to a world they had been called to. There hadn’t been many, as it turned out, because of course most angels adhered to their duty and then just moved on to the next task.

But… there were the fallen angels, who went against their nature. He was already different, as Pearlescent had said, but it was usually greed or pride that got to the ones in the books.

Nothing was ever mentioned about love.

But those fallen ones did go off to make their own rules.

And if he couldn’t defeat Pearl in fair combat… maybe he would have to do something unfair.

But… that wasn’t really in his nature, either.

But he needed to get back to Scott.

But… he couldn’t betray Pearl… Could he?

Perhaps no more than an angel could steal souls – which he had done. That led to him thinking about if someone could steal the soul of a deity. What would that taste like? It would probably cause indigestion.

He laughed out loud. Why was he even thinking of such a thing?

Yet were not the powers he had now going to waste? He thought about his question to Pearl about what rule defined the end of his calling and stop being Scott’s guardian. Wouldn’t him being like this have allowed Scott to live out a full life, perfect as he was as a floran now, without the fear of death at any moment? How was Sausage supposed to just walk away from that idea?

He returned to Pearl’s domain with the tome she had requested, only half-listening as she talked about something that didn’t entirely concern him anyway, and his gaze kept going to the center of her chest where a wither might access a soul. He had to shake himself from those thoughts again. He didn’t have those powers anymore. He would need to think of a different way.

Rather than using his now-granted free time to check the reflecting pool, he wandered out toward one of the barns. To his inconvenience, there were a couple of younger angels there baling hay. They greeted him and tried to chat about the barn’s design, but he excused himself and went off in search of someplace without industrious little angels everywhere. He was honestly getting tired of seeing others like him but of which he was not anymore.

Finally he came across a small mill, abandoned for a larger, more efficient one further out across the field that he remembered also building. Using one wing he swept away only enough of the cobwebs to make a spot to sit amongst the remainder of the old chaff, then began thinking about all of the abilities he had cycled through and if any of that knowledge would help in a match against Pearl. He had always been careful about how he discharged lightning while knowing exactly what could happen when he did. Reversing gravity was a good way to take someone off guard. Somewhere, if a mix of the two could be combined with holy fire…

But it was supposed to be a contest of skill with melee weapons. Pearl didn’t use any godly powers during a match. Any claim to the prize of ‘making his own rules’ would likely be disqualified if he fought any other way. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait for a sparring match at all…

This might be a slippery slope he was on. Could he really bring himself to do something so dishonorable? What kind of angel would that make him? …Would he still be deserving of being a guardian, if this is what he might resort to?

But his heart was aching ever so much, separated from the one he loved, and with Scott’s own fate hovering so uncertain between now and when winter ended, and the days to come after that…

Then something happened to Sausage that hadn’t occurred in that realm since the time before he answered his calling.

He fell asleep.

[ A/N: Shout out to Cadmusfly via @teuthisdreams for their AI generated art project that brings us this view of Heaven’s Reach at one point in this chapter. ]

---

Chapter Three

The goddess PearlescentMoon lay on the floor of the royal gazebo with a spreading pool of shimmering blood surrounding her. It wasn’t clear where the wound was – some would later say she had literally been stabbed in the back – but there was only one witness, and as his wings sat in the blood while he held her, it seemed to be absorbed by his feathers. The sight of a seraph with fully crimson wings stepping out of the gazebo was enough to make anyone hesitate, and no one tried to stop him as he took flight to make his way out of the celestial plane. He shouldn’t have been able to leave like that, but he was no longer bound by the rules.

He entered the mortal world over the peninsula as before, but knew exactly which way to go to find his destination. There were still traces of winter in places, and he was glad he hadn’t missed his chance. Upon reaching home he went straight to the specific greenhouse and pushed aside the vines, cracking open the obsidian cover with ease. He pulled away the roots and leaned over to give a kiss to wake the sleeping beauty.

And Scott smiled up at him, although he was squinting in the sudden brightness of the seraph’s halo. “Is it Spring already?”

“It feels like a hundred Springs since I was last able to kiss you,” he replied, and gathered the floran into his arms for a hug.

It was then that Scott was able to see the difference in him, and he nearly pulled away from the hug. “Sausage… Your wings…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Just a little side effect. I’m still the same me. Let’s get you out of this coffin and back into the sunlight.”

Still under the atrophy of winter, Scott let the seraph pick him up and start carrying him out of the greenhouse. He tried to glance back at the lilium to thank it, but all the blood-red feathers got in his way when Sausage shifted his top pair of wings. He didn’t get a chance to see how some of the roots and vines now curled away from the bunker as if driven back from the spot, rather than simply moved out of the way.

. 

Life seemed to get back to normal after that. They cleaned up the areas left unattended through that part of winter, gathered together some new livestock, and fell back into a routine. The only thing that bothered Scott about any of it was how sometimes during sunset the light would settle over Sausage and cast a red tint over his face, somehow highlighting his scar more vividly, and it stood out in a ghastly way almost like it had when he was a wither. Scott tried to shrug it off, but he kept ending up staring at his wings as well.

The color didn’t hold the same warmth as his own sunrise-hued wings had. There was just something not right about that shade of red. Instead of sunrise or sunset, it reminded him of Blood Moons and particularly deadly archers, and for some reason it invoked an image of a bloodstained wooden floor.

Speaking of Blood Moons, the first one of the year wasn’t met with holy fire but with Sausage taking a regular sword out to slay the mobs by hand. He pushed Scott back into the villa when he tried to come out to help, and there was no sign of activity from the lilium. Sausage became surrounded a few times but never faltered, cutting through everything the night threw at him. He was still invincible it seemed, even if he wasn’t using the easier solution.

Scott began to wonder if maybe he didn’t actually have access to the holy fire anymore, perhaps as a condition of being able to return to this world. He didn’t want to ask him about it, though, and lumped it in with the side effects already attributed to the crimson wings. And maybe it was also a side effect that made him appear to be taking great joy in slicing through the monsters when it had been such a grim task before.

By the time he returned to the house, the sword was dripping with green blood from creepers, and purple enderman blood, and whatever the ichor from zombies counted as. There was also red dripping off the bottom of his middle and lower wings. Scott was certain that he hadn’t seen him get hurt, but… “Sausage. Where is the red coming from?”

Sausage simply walked inside, not paying any attention to it. “Hmm?”

“The red, Sausage. The— You’re getting blood everywhere!”

“Oh, that! Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

Sausage kept telling him to not worry about a lot of things after that, such as why the lilium seemed to be retreating into its old corner of the greenhouse or why there appeared to be footprints burned into the path just outside the church, or how the mural of Pearl had gotten cracked over the winter when the temperatures didn’t drop enough for ice to have formed long enough to cause that kind of erosion. Or the times when Sausage returned from a nightly patrol and left spatters of red all over the place.

And then one day while making his rounds of the gardens he found those burnt footprints around the lilium’s greenhouse. When he went inside to check on it, he found that the flower had closed up and begun to wilt as normal ones would at the end of a season, but it was nowhere near even Autumn yet, and it hadn’t done so the previous year. Shortly afterward the vines began to dry up and fall from the walls.

“Sausage, I think there might be some kind of evil thing wandering around here when you’re away. You know those footprints by the church? They’re by the greenhouses now, and something killed the lilium.” He put his head down, sad at the loss of such a wonderous plant.

The seraph put a hand on his shoulder but the gesture didn’t quite feel as comforting as it should have been meant to be. “You can grow something else in there. I’m all you need to be protected, anyway. But I’ll keep an eye out for whatever is leaving the footprints if it’ll make you feel better.”

 .

Scott didn’t really feel like replacing the lilium after the arduous task of clearing out all of the dead brush. He made a little descriptive plaque instead, and was preparing to place it in the corner where it had first grown from when he got an idea and started sifting through the soil, hoping to maybe recover some small bits of roots that still survived, maybe even the tiniest of coiled leaves that hadn’t yet gotten a chance to grown amidst the weight of the larger ones.

What he found instead was a damaged feather, eroded away by the roots and earthworms. It might have been white at one time. It certainly wasn’t red, he was pretty sure. Maybe it had been gray. It could have just been a random bird feather. But he didn’t know how it would have gotten there, and then the coincidence of it being exactly where he had been digging… He probably shouldn’t be reading too much into it. He could have just picked it up on his own clothes while walking around and it had fallen off there a long time ago.

He decided to go with that and continued his search, but it seemed that nothing of the lilium was left. He didn’t understand what could have so utterly destroyed it. None of the other plants had been affected. Unless this had merely been its natural lifespan. That thought gave him a slight bit of acceptance, and he went about setting up the plaque. Maybe he could use that greenhouse for tool and empty pot storage.

After washing up he went looking for Sausage just to have a quiet sit with company, but couldn’t find him anywhere. It was still early in the evening for a patrol, but if instincts had told him to go out, then that’s merely how it was. Scott took a lantern and went out to the cemetery, figuring he could at least sit with the angel flower for some seraph-like company.

He probably should have taken Sausage’s absence as a sign to stay inside, however, because as the sun began to set there was a suspicious lack of stars as the sky grew darker. Night quickly enveloped the land and like an all-consuming wave, the darkness snuffed out all light but the very closest of ones from his lantern and the half of the church nearest to the cemetery. Beyond that, he could see nothing.

As Scott debated what to do, he hoped he would see the glow of an angelic aura coming his way. Now that he thought about it, it was odd that Sausage hadn’t shown up yet. He must have flown off far, or else the darkness was just that pervasive that his aura wasn’t shining through.

Then, from some distance away he heard a voice that he didn’t immediately recognize. “Wait, please, I’m just a little lost – I couldn’t find my way in the dark, I know I’m looking for the next mountain over, if you’ll just pardon me, good sir, I’ll be going now, you don’t have to trouble yourself over little ol’—"

The voice abruptly cut off. Scott couldn’t identify the sound the followed, for it was too far away. But then he saw a burning orange circle behind Sausage’s head as the seraph finally stepped out of the darkness. Why… wasn’t he using his aura to light the way?

And… why was there fresh, red blood dripping from the sword..?

Scott’s eyes went wide. It had taken him too long to put it all together. He should have known right away but he had been blinded by the hope fulfilled when Sausage had returned. “S-Sausage. It happened… You’re the evil presence. Y-You have to stop. I’ll stop you. Listen to me, we can do something about this. Let me be your conscience from now on. You just… have to wait before doing anything like murdering people.” If he could figure out where the body was, maybe he could save whoever had just met the wrong end of the seraph’s sword.

Sausage only scoffed. “Murder? That was precaution. The last time someone was out in this darkness they tried to kill you. I’m not falling for any tricks at a time like this. And I can’t be evil. I’m the most powerful angel there exists! I can make my own rules.”

Scott was very certain the owner of the voice had not been a reaper. “That doesn’t mean the difference between right and wrong changes, and it doesn’t mean you haven’t been going too far. You’ve lost your holy powers, haven’t you? That’s why your footprints burned around the church. And you… killed the lilium. Why?”

“It would have gotten in the way.”

“Of what? It protected me! It was just another plant, like the rest of the gardens. Are you going to destroy those, too? Take away everything I care about? What would be the point of being here, then? Why not just stay in the celestial realm, instead of whatever you did to yourself to come back here?”

The seraph froze, staring at him, but there was indifference in his eyes. Blood dripped from the lowered sword and from the bottom of his wings.

“What did you do, Sausage?”

“I fell from grace for you. You know I would die for you. I would kill for you, too, just to be with you again. There was no other way. I wasn’t allowed to come back.”

“W-Why would you do that? That goes against everything you worked toward! There had to have been another way!”

“I wasn’t strong enough to do it the other way. I needed to win fairly, but I didn’t have time for that. So I cheated. And now I’m back.”

“You cheated by killing? So you’re just going to keep killing, even if it’s something I would never ask of you?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Takes to do what? What even is your goal now, if you’ve forgotten how you said your heart wasn’t meant for evil deeds?”

“I’m not evil.”

“That blood dripping off you says otherwise.”

Sausage looked down at the sword but Scott pointed past it to his wings.

“You think I haven’t realized what that signifies? You think I don’t remember what it was like to be bathed in bloodshed? Where do you think I am now, with my sins weighing on me, and the truth of my own nature dragging me into an abyss? Where’s the light that’s going to save me now, if you’ve become this?”

Sausage looked at the red spatters below his wings, then tilted his head and looked back at Scott. “What do you mean, where you are now? You’re right in front of me. You’re still alive.”

The floran stared back at him, expression dark.

“Scott— what do you mean? Where are you? …Where are we?”

The red drained downward out of his wings, flowing across the ground and pooling at Scott’s feet. His halo turned from orange to white. The sword fell from his hand.

“Scott? Scott?? What happened to you? Am I too late? Where – Where are you?!”

~*~

Sausage woke with a gasp, then coughed as he inhaled some of the dust he had churned up with a flail of his upper wings. Thank the gods it was just a nightmare. He – He would never go that far. He didn’t want to kill Pearl. He could never do something like that. None of that was the real him. It couldn’t be.

But that last part –

Something was wrong. He needed to find out what exactly it was. He stumbled out of the old mill and prepared to take flight back to the reflecting pool, but then a compulsion rang through his head, and he had to go see to a different task before he could get a chance for personal issues.

Time was always working against him no matter where he was.

~*~

When winter ended Scott’s crown of ivy gave way to small sprigs of purple hyacinth. After he had shaken off the vestiges of his long sleep, he made his way around cleaning up anything that had gotten out of hand with no one to tend things. He started to round up a few sheep and cows along the way, but decided it wasn’t as important at the moment, and settled for taming some more bees instead. A few sips of honey were refreshing, helping him to wake up a little more.

He removed the signs from the memorial and left a bouquet of white daffodils and green tulips. He smiled sadly at the angel flower, and brushed his fingers over the feathery petals. At least it was still doing well by itself.

He couldn’t say the same for himself.

He swept away some of the cobwebs from industrious spiders that had taken advantage of the empty villa. Everything else was as he had left it – no Sausage waiting patiently for him to wake up, no smile to greet him, no gentle chiding about how much he had slept. Just a quiet emptiness.

There wasn’t complete silence in regard to plant life. There was always an underlying sense of something living and growing. There might not have been a literal heartbeat, but water flowed and photosynthesis processes were occurring all the time. Scott had a heartbeat, and also underwent some of those processes, and he understood how the plants were alive, and he knew how they thrived best when shown love and care.

But his own love was gone. Looking around at the emptiness, everything felt so hollow. Flowers would just grow and bloom because that’s all they knew how to do. There was more to him than that, however.

He continued the rest of the day’s work with his mind running on automatic. He went to bed early, not even bothering to wait until the sun fully set. He wished he had slept further into Spring, as well, just to pass more time until Sausage could return.

If he returned.

Had Scott been able to, he would have rooted himself into the ground to wait alongside the rest of the flowers, taking in sunlight and rainwater and simply existing until his reason to live came back to him. All he was doing now was just…existing. They had been together for so long and been through so much, but now he was alone.

.

When he went to the memorial a few days later his hair was covered by anemone and asphodel blossoms. He removed the old bouquet but didn’t have a new one to replace it, and only tossed it aside. Then he sat down beside the dais, staring at the ground for a moment before laying across the stone surface, resting his head on one folded arm with the other draped out toward the far side. “Sausage… I’m sorry. I… don’t know if I can keep waiting. Even the flowers aren’t enough to keep me company anymore. They don’t really need me. But I need you. I – I want to keep waiting, but… I feel so alone, and I’m tired. I’m so… tired. I’m sorry. I love you.”

As he closed his eyes, a small sea of asphodel, purple hyacinth, and anemones grew from all available soil, coming out from under the moss hiding the cemetery’s original purpose, and spilling over past the walls. Across the whole of Heaven’s Reach flowers bloomed, blanketing the mountaintop in color while serene clouds drifted above.

It didn’t need to be monsters or illness or accidents that led to an end. Sometimes all it took was the pain of a broken heart that just didn’t want to beat anymore.

~*~

The sight of daffodils and tulips had given Sausage a little hope. That meant Scott was finally awake after winter, and it felt like things would be able to go in a different direction from the gruesome vision he’d had. He wasn’t certain if it had entirely been just a dream. Some higher power might have sensed his intentions and sent him a warning, but he hadn’t put the option completely out of his mind. He still needed to get back to Scott.

It was a little late in the day when he had a chance to check the reflecting pool again, but if not getting to hear Scott talk he could at least see what new Spring bouquet there might be. Sausage threw a quick glance to where Pearl sat in her throne idly chatting with some messenger and then held his hand over the pool’s surface to attune it to the memorial dais.

It was not a bouquet he saw, but Scott himself, surrounded by waves of grayish and purple flowers at the edges of the pool’s view. Sausage narrowed his eyes. Something didn’t look right. Similar flowers were in Scott’s hair, but they were wilted and faded. His heart leapt into his throat. “Pearl! You have to let me go back, now! Something is very wrong!”

She turned to him, a pragmatic expression already in place. “Sausage, I told you—”

“Make up a mission for me! Or – cast me out, banish me back there! You have to be able to do something! I need to find out what has happened to him! He – I think he – but he’s not waking up!”

With her own heart breaking at his tone – he was her favorite still, after all, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ban him from the pool to put a stop to this – she stood and calmly walked over to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Sausage. This doesn’t fall under my domain. You’re going to have to let go of that mortal world. I understand it’s difficult. Remember when I told you about my old world? It took me time, too. But you have to step away. It’s out of your hands. You’ll need to accept that.”

“But I could have prevented this! Why did you have to bring me back here in the first place?!”

“Because this is where you were supposed to be. When you—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish. He pushed her hand off his shoulder, then stood and shoved her away from him. “No! I’m sick of hearing about what’s supposed to be! You know what is supposed to happen? He should have come back to life! Different, changed, not - not just lying there, like that was the end, like that was the last--!!” Sausage’s breath hitched and he felt tears begin to spill down his cheeks. He reached one hand up to his face. “Is – Is that why my calling ended? Is that why he would no longer need me as a guardian? Because that was his last life??”

Pearl started to reach for his shoulder again but he slapped her hand away, jerking his wings outward for good measure before fleeing out of the gazebo and taking flight for who knew where, just away.

~*~

Scott had known the feeling of Limbo once before. He couldn’t say how or when, but the place his soul was now felt very much like that as he curled up on himself, arms hugged close to his chest. In one way he felt like he was being tugged back toward the body laying on the dais, the magic of that world ready to change him into something new. But he didn’t want to go back to it, knowing he would still be alone when he drew a breath again.

And even if it turned out he wouldn’t be alone, he knew it would only be a matter of time until his presence caused Sausage to be injured or even killed again, seraph or no seraph.

Maybe this was for the best. Maybe this was what he deserved. Just floating in Limbo, not ascension, not one final death to rest forever, just a pervading dimness all around and vague, sourceless light that was just enough to see his own hands.

Sausage’s blood on his hands. Sausage’s blood sliding down his throat as he drank too much. Time to pay for the sins you have committed. Is this where the reaper would have brought him if they had succeeded that night? If Sausage hadn’t gotten in the way?

Fangs. Blood. No restraint. Someone doesn’t just get away with killing an angel. A mockery of forgiveness. Fate biding its time to catch up with him. And maybe even love was part of that mockery. How foolish, how ironic, to fall in love with someone who had somehow forgiven him for killing them—

Continuing to get them killed. Causing one death after another. Even the unrelated accidents might have been avoided if they hadn’t been in that one specific place at that specific time. Maybe Sausage wouldn’t have ever been in any of those places at all if Scott hadn’t been there with him.

And maybe he would have remained an angel for a very long time, even forever, if Scott hadn’t precipitated that first death.

He clamped one hand over his mouth, cursing that vampire hunger. He clutched the other to his chest, over his heart, cursing his angel self for reading more into a wither’s kindness, and a thunderborn trying to care for him while he was dying. Fate mocking them by not allowing them to even touch each other. Another of his choices leading Sausage to fall into the one place he shouldn’t have been anywhere near for his own safety’s sake.

“But, just— Remember, no matter what I come back as, I love you.”

Why…was he remembering Sausage saying those exact words? There was no other memory to go along with it, except…

An image of Sausage laying feverish in bed. Scott trying to take care of him, even though…

Even though—what? When had that happened? He was engulfed by a sudden helplessness, the same as when Sausage disappeared into the Aether portal.

Then he remembered a time when his own thoughts came out in Sausage’s voice.

“I would die for you. I owe you this. I’m sorry I ever hurt you. You didn’t deserve it. Sausage, please, I want you to live.”

And the wither/thunderborn had replied—

“We don’t both have to be in darkness. What’s done is done. Let go. The shadows were never your fault. Share your light with me. I’ll share mine.”

Sausage…loved him. Even when Scott had no longer been an angel, even when they couldn’t at the very least just hold hands…even through all the death…

“I love you!!”

It was as if the seraph had known that those would be the most important last words he could ever say. He could have been too shocked in the moment to say anything – or could have called Scott’s name, or cursed, or yelled that he would find a way back – but that was what he had made sure to say.

Scott pressed the spot over his heart with both hands now. That was what was important. Not the what-ifs, not the deaths themselves, not his guilt. It was so hard to forgive himself but he needed to accept that Sausage had truly forgiven him. Sausage wanted them to be together, had fought through the pain time and again, had kept coming back to him and kept holding his hand.

Sausage didn’t want to let him go.

Sausage wouldn’t want him to give up. He had always been waiting for Scott when he came back to life. Scott needed to be there for him when he returned. In the meantime, he needed to do the living in the mortal realm for the both of them.

His anguish fell away from him like a shower of dried petals from his former crown. With the tension lifted, he uncurled his body and was ready to get up from the ground.

Except—

He was still somewhere dark. It didn’t feel the same as Limbo, but it wasn’t the same nighttime as in Heaven’s Reach, either. And…

His hands looked different, as he turned them back and forth, just barely able to make out something dancing along under his skin in the dim light. He clenched them into fists. He should at least try to figure out where he was, then he would deal with that. He set off, darting from one shadowy shape to another, looking for anything familiar for a clue to where he was.

~*~

Sausage perched on top of the royal gazebo at nightfall after silently swooping around the area to make sure no one else was in immediate range. Pearl was alone for the moment, as far as he could tell. He leapt down to an opening of the gazebo that would allow him to come up behind the throne and he folded his middle wings over his shoulders like a cloak so he could keep one hand hidden by the feathers. His fingers tightened on the handle of a dagger.

He didn’t care anymore where it led him or what else awaited him. The unanswered questions and the horrific revelation had made the pain in his heart drown out everything else. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending eternity knowing he could have at least been by Scott’s side holding his hand when he died one last time.

He placed his other hand on the arm of the throne and gathered his resolve.

But then she turned and she smiled at him sympathetically, her eyes kind, and that look made his fingers go weak. It was all he could do to not drop the dagger, almost risking being found out.

“There you are. I figured I’d give you some time, but I need you to do something for me and I can’t ask any of the others. This is something only you can do. There’s a mischievous light sprite out by the far fields and those little guys will only listen to someone with a great deal of power. You can either try to get it to leave or catch it and bring it here so I can figure out what plane it belongs to.  Just make sure you do it before dawn or it will be harder to see in the daylight.”

Sausage shifted on his feet, gripping the dagger tight again and almost reconsidered his hesitation. But then he just sighed. “Fine,” he said sullenly, resenting the task.  He kept his middle wings down until he was out on the pathway, then carefully moved his hand to keep the blade hidden while opening his wings. He slipped the dagger under his gauntlet for another try later.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the sprite below, a roughly humanoid-shaped, glowing creature that was cavorting around unchecked among the stalks of wheat. As Sausage approached it seemed to glance up toward him, then it skittered off into the neighboring pumpkin patch, hopping over the gourds and making him chase it across the entire field. Then it hung a right and cut into a cornfield.

Sausage stayed in flight and followed it from above, but rather than be slowed by the cornstalks it continued to remain ahead of him. He sighed in exasperation and glided higher, thinking maybe once it cleared the corn he could swoop down on it. But then it suddenly doubled back, and he was chasing it toward the pumpkin patch again.

Just as he dived down and was about to grab it as it exited the tall stalks, it shot upward, leaving a stream of purple sparkles and narrowly avoiding his arms. This thing could fly, too? He watched it arc over the pumpkins and land on the path, where it seemed to look back at him again before dancing away.

Now it was just taunting him, wasn’t it. He adjusted his wings and pounced after it, yelling in frustration, “Get back here, you stupid—!!”

The sprite stopped and once more appeared to be looking toward him. This time it stayed in place as he started to reach for it, but its voice stopped him in his tracks. “Excuse you, is that any way to talk to me?”

Sausage’s eyes widened. His hand trembled as he now slowly reached toward the sprite’s face with trepidation. As soon as he touched its cheek the glow dimmed and the form became clear – still alight, though, with the twinkling of thousands of tiny pinpoints across skin that was a gradient of purple to black along the limbs, covered by a shimmering garment of gold and silver that blended in with this appearance in places. Purple hair that seemed to have a ring of tiny silver sparkles around it like a closely fitting constellation framed luminous violet eyes.

Familiar eyes.

Familiar voice.

“Is – Is that you?” Sausage asked weakly. “Scott, is that really you?” He didn’t wait for an answer, throwing his arms and wings around him in a grateful hug. “H-How are you here? What are you? Y-You look beautiful, but how did you get here? I saw you laying there, and I – I thought that was the end for you! What happened? Why were you—”

Scott silenced him with a kiss and put his arms around him. Sausage relaxed into his embrace and let all his questions fade away as they quietly held each other and kissed again.

After a few moments of gazing into Scott’s eyes and seeing the cosmos held within, Sausage withdrew his wings and stepped back. He summoned a flaming sword to his hand but immediately dismissed the flames and planted the tip of the blade into the ground in front of Scott, then knelt down on one knee and looked back up at him. “Marry me?”

“What?” Scott laughed at the abruptness, but his heart soared with elation.

“I’m serious. We’ve got our whole afterlives to spend together. Let’s make it official.”

Scott smiled and held a hand out to cup Sausage’s cheek. Sausage then took it and kissed the back of it. “Yes,” the starborne said.

Sausage smiled, then stood and hugged him again.

 .

Hand in hand they walked back to the center of the realm, knowing they would never have to let each other go again.

Pearl was waiting for them when they arrived, a broad grin on her face. “I thought that might cheer you up, you silly sausage.”

“You knew?” the seraph asked, his hand tightening around Scott’s.

“I had a suspicion, but didn’t quite know for sure. That was an unusual way for a new guardian to be born.” Pearl cast a calculating look over the two. “Seems you’re both willing to do anything for the other, like somehow breaking part of reality to get here. A guardian of the stars, to go along with a guardian of my realm.”

Sausage gave a nervous smile for a second, wondering if she was implying that she knew about his close brush with becoming fallen. Then Scott squeezed his hand and grounded his thoughts once again. “Say, uh, Pearl… There isn’t any rule saying an angel can’t get married, is there?”

“I wouldn’t dream of stopping you if there was.”

 ~End~

[Post A/N: So, a while back I made a post about hoping that Scott’s Afterlife series would end a certain way, and if it didn’t then I’d do it myself. Well, now here we are! | Also, if you’ve been seeing homages to such things as The Last Unicorn and the Gargoyles animated TV series, you might be right. :3c | Bonus: THIS BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK by Cynthrey that helped light a fire under me to get this fic finished! XD ]

Chapter Two

It might have been the sound of his own labored breathing that disturbed Sausage during the night, but after a few moments he also noticed that there seemed to be something scrabbling around in his room. He could swear he heard a faint beeping noise but then it stopped. “S-Scott? Is – Is that you?” he called blearily. He couldn’t see much in the dark but didn’t have the energy to turn on the light.

Someone who definitely wasn’t Scott muttered, “Signal is weak but this is the source. Bad and good timing it seems.”

They sounded like they were almost right next to his pillows. Sausage turned and attempted to push himself up, black mist curling around his hand. “W-Who’s there? H-How did you get in here?”

“Oh, you really are in rough shape. That will make this easier. Hey, over here.” A dull greenish light lit up beside the crate of health potions. Sausage was very confused by what he was seeing. There seemed to be a very small, semi-transparent bipedal creature dressed in some type of red bodysuit with a closed helmet standing on the wooden chest, holding a tiny silver box which was the source of the light.

“Who – and what – are you?”

“That’s going to take some explaining. Let me start with this: I’m from somewhere far away, and I arrived here on the night of crimson, and you caused me to crash land because of some gravity malfunction. It has taken me far too much time to track you down because everything on this planet is absurdly large, and as I now see you don’t even have that much gravity power left. Since you obviously won’t be able to help with that part of the matter, you can help me in another way – because right now, as I see it, you owe me one.”

Sausage gave a quiet little laugh then coughed. “What? I was – I was fighting monsters half the night. What do you mean ‘this planet’? …I must be delirious or something.” He eyed the tiny creature then reached over it to try to pick up one of the potions. His fingertips caught at the top of a bottle but he only managed to knock it over in the attempt.

The creature watched and shook its head judgingly. “You really don’t have a lot of time. Listen: I can give you more time, but we need to make a deal. I have a mission to carry out and I need a host to get me across this stupidly big landmass. You’re about to die, and you’re responsible for my delay. Work with me and we both benefit.”

“A mission? A host? What does that even mean?” Sausage huffed in frustration and tried again, although his hand was shaking, and he was unable to grip the neck of the next nearest bottle. He was beginning to fear what this creature meant when saying he was about to die.

“The princess of my people came to this world and was murdered. I’m here to find her killer and enact justice. But not being of royal blood, I can’t fully function in this atmosphere and have to conserve my body’s energy. If I have a host – that is, if I possess a body like yours – I’ll be able to do what I need to and then be on my way. You can have an extra day here, then let me take over and complete my mission, and afterward I leave and you can do whatever it is your species does when it expires.”

“How do you even know how much time I have left?”

“If I can possess a body, don’t you think I would know what condition it’s in?”

Sausage couldn’t believe he was still entertaining this delusion, but had to ask, “So how much time, exactly?” He remembered that at the end the mist had overwhelmed Scott without much warning.

“About four and a half hours.”

“Uh… So that’s… What time is it now..?”

“You’re not making it to sunrise, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sausage tried to think if he could successfully manage to find Scott, get through another possible argument with him, and still say what he needed to in order to make peace with him within that time frame. As he grabbed the side of the blanket to pull it back so he could get up, he saw the mist surrounding his hand. He realized he had two options: he could try to yell for Scott so he would come to him, but he didn’t feel like he had the lung strength for that right now; or he could agree to this alien creature’s proposal and buy the time to talk to Scott in the morning. He wasn’t sure how he would explain the latter, but maybe Scott would be more reasonable by then.

“If I agree to this, promise me you’ll leave Scott out of it. Actually, no, I want you to help him. All he can think about is blaming himself, and I don’t want him to keep on like that. There has to be a way to get past all this.”

“I’ll see what I can do, after I get back.”

“Fine. So…what happens now?”

“Lay down for one thing. You’re going to fall off of this rest platform if you don’t, anyway. Then just close your eyes. I promise you won’t feel a thing.”

~*~

It was more than four hours later when Sausage opened his eyes to see daylight streaming through the curtains. He held a hand up, staring as he tried to determine if there was mist around it or if he just wasn’t fully awake yet. He felt… nominally better. Breathing seemed a little easier and his arm wasn’t as weak when he reached over to pick up one of the potions. He took a cautious sip. Much like the last time it didn’t seem to do anything to help, but he drank the whole bottle just so Scott would see that he had listened.

If only the former merling would listen to him. However, he didn’t know what else to say to ease the guilt. He could go over each incident that had led to his deaths and try to rationalize them, but he knew Scott had never gotten over the first one. When he had tried to remove that specific guilt Scott had stopped him, not wanting to be forgiven. The guilt was a part of him, integral, important to him, to always have inside. Maybe it was due to not having much of a conscience as a vampire then gaining one as an angel, particularly in regard toward Sausage as he fell in love with him.

It hurt Sausage to think about it, but maybe he himself needed to accept that Scott would continue carrying those feelings through all of his future lives. He would prefer still trying to help him heal, but this life, right now, wasn’t the one to do it. Maybe he could try again in whatever followed when the alien was done with him.

A knock on the door made his thoughts scatter. “C-Come in— Oh.”

Scott walked through the door without opening it, seeming to make a point to face away into the room as he spoke in a clipped tone, “Good morning. I’d ask how you were feeling but I know the answer won’t be ‘better’.”

“N-No, actually, I do—” Sausage stopped himself. Should he tell him about the alien? Would it make much difference? It was only an extra day – well, less than that by this point – and he would still die with no way of knowing what would happen next. “—because… I slept all right,” he continued. He felt he should say something else, but no words were coming to him.

Scott tilted his head, ear turned toward the bed. “No cough right now?”

“No, it – it cleared up a little. Maybe the potions are working better this time?”

“They’re not a long-term solution. You know that.”

“Scott, can we please just talk without all the impending doom hanging over our heads?”

The former merling didn’t reply so much as exhale loudly through his nose.

“Fine,” Sausage said sadly, “Be that way.” He fidgeted with the edge of the blanket then sighed, unable to commit to the silent treatment. “But, just— Remember, no matter what I come back as, I love you.”

“I – I know.” Scott struggled with the traditional response. He uttered a sigh of his own and finally moved, sitting at the very end of the bed out of reach but feeling like he owed it to Sausage to sit with him for at least a little while. “I still hate every second of this. I can’t think of any way it could have gone worse.”

Sausage had a few ideas but kept them to himself. He racked his brain for something funny to say instead, something to try to lighten the mood, but then Scott said, “I… won’t see when you go, or when you come back because then I might curse you all over again. I won’t know what you are. I hope it isn’t also bad, because… well, remember what I said when angel-me died? I can’t be much of a conscience for you if I’m like this.”

Sausage was about to ask him to stay beside him until that moment, but realized the situation could change very fast when the alien took over. “Hey, um, how about this for an idea: if you get some paper and a quill, I can write a note for myself, to remind me to keep that promise, too! And I’ll—” He stopped himself again. “…I’ll, um, I’ll let you know what I am when I can.”

He had to include that last part in case he wasn’t near home when the alien left, although he would hope it would have the courtesy to not abandon him thousands of blocks away. Maybe he should add a reminder in the note to keep obsidian plus a flint and steel on him so he could take a shortcut home if that did happen.

“I’m not sure that would work,” Scott replied, although he stood up. “But I’ll do it if you really want. Let me go look.”  He walked directly through the door again.

Sausage let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He really should have asked the alien creature more questions about what would happen when it took over, and when it left.

If he hadn’t simply dreamt the whole thing.

But then, he was better right now, and it was true the potions didn’t ultimately work. His thoughts then doubled back on themselves. Scott didn’t seem any more agreeable this morning, and the rest of the day would likely go the same.

“You don’t have to give me a whole day anymore,” Sausage whispered out loud. “It doesn’t matter.” He got out of bed and picked up one of the empty potion bottles, clutching it tightly as he went over to the open window beside the desk. It would be a simple matter to climb out. “Let’s go now, before he comes back. It won’t be fair, but none of this is.” He placed the bottle so it sat precariously close to the edge of the desk. “Don’t let him catch us leaving.”

“If that’s what you want,” said the creature’s voice inside his head. “Hold on to your bronchial tubes.”

Sausage then began to cough violently. His legs started to give out, causing him to stumble until he caught himself on the wall, where he saw the mist surrounding his hand once more. Scott would undoubtably hear. He shakily reached out for the windowsill.

He blacked out before he even hit the floor.

.

The sound of glass shattering caught Scott’s attention more than the coughing. The latter he couldn’t do anything about, but if Sausage got hurt by any broken pieces that would just be literal insult to injury. He left the book and quill in favor of a dustpan to clean up the glass with. This time he opened the bedroom door instead of walking through it. “Sausage, are you all…”

The room was now utterly silent. He could see some of the broken potion bottle from under the edge of his blindfold. It was across the room, not near the bed. He set down the dustpan and felt around along the blanket to be sure. No body was there. He carefully searched around to make sure Sausage wasn’t just slumped somewhere out of view, but there was also no other sounds besides his own breathing. For a second he entertained the thought that Sausage was now also something that could walk through walls, but the more acceptable thought – and what he preferred to be true – was he had come to his senses and left altogether to avoid being cursed again.

Allowing listlessness to take hold, Scott lifted his blindfold just enough to be able to more safely clean up the glass, then pulled it back into place once it was taken care of. He put away the remaining potions then returned to the bedroom, curling up on the bed and imagining that it still felt warm, that Sausage had not been gone for long.

He should have told him that he loved him one more time, or had the guts to say goodbye when he knew this was what could happen.

~*~

The next few days blended one into the other for Scott. He tried to do some upkeep around the villa, tried to make sure all the flowers in the garden patches were watered, tried to tend the animals. It was just things that had to be done. He considered letting the animals free to return to the fields, considered letting the gardens grow wild.

But what if Sausage returned and decided he wanted his home back?

Scott thought about returning to his vampire mansion, long since left to the elements after Sausage basically took him in while he regained his strength when he became an angel, and then it just seemed right to stay in Heaven’s Reach after that. As a compromise to himself, he went down to Wither’s Grasp and made the manor a little more livable since it had also been left to gather cobwebs. Boarded up windows were certainly suitable for whatever his new life alone was going to turn out to be.

He didn’t know yet what else he was going to do. Just wait, perhaps, and let nature take its course. One thought at the very back of his mind – something he didn’t dare call hope – was that Sausage, reborn hale and hearty, had left to find a better answer to the problem.

It occurred to Scott that he should write down everything he knew so far, since he had left that one book back at the stronghold, just in case Sausage did return, and there was the chance that one of them might become an Enigma again in the future. The project took up part of an afternoon, and he was leaving the manor to bring the book up to the villa when he heard footsteps crunching on the rocky dirt of the path. He quickly tugged at his blindfold to make sure he didn’t accidentally catch sight of them.

“Hello?” he called out, keeping his voice steady to avoid giving away his weakness. “Who’s there?”

“An old friend,” came a semblance of Sausage’s voice; something seemed off about it, not to mention that was a strange way to refer to himself. “Ssscott,” he then sounded out the other’s name as if it was an unfamiliar word. “Come with me. We have business to tend to.”

Before Scott could react, a hand closed on his arm and he was practically dragged across Wither’s Grasp, over the bridge, and partway up the stone staircase. “Saus—where are we going?”

“Back to the scene of the crime.”

That phrasing didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t protest as he was encouraged to climb up into the cave that sat inside the wall, left just as it was on the night of the Blood Moon. Still holding onto the book, Scott was about to ask why they were there now, but hands turned him to make sure he was facing toward Sausage and then the blindfold was yanked off his head. “No-!” He started to cover his face with his arms but the glimpse he caught of who he thought was Sausage made him stop and stare in shock.

Green, translucent skin and pink hair greeted him, strange clear eyes staring back from what was definitely Sausage’s face. He was wearing the same clothes as the last time Scott had seen him, although they hung oddly on his frame and there was residue from gunpowder dirtying his shirt. Scott recovered from his shock and tried to block his line of sight again, but the alien version of Sausage stopped him. “No, don’t look away. This is important. Now, listen to me: Do you want to forget this ever happened? I can make him forget, and I can make you forget.”

“Make… him? So you’re… not Sausage? What are you?”

“Very long story. If you forget it won’t matter anyway. Let’s just say I needed to borrow him. No, keep looking at me. I still need you to end this.”

“Then…make sure we get this book. In case one of us comes back like me again.” Scott pointed with the book’s spine toward the bit of cobblestone wall where the black cloth was still laid out. Pseudo-Sausage nodded, and Scott backed up to place the book on it, glancing away only long enough to make sure it was properly on the wall and wouldn’t fall off. Then he said, “Forgetting won’t take away the guilt, you know.”

“That’s a matter for you. My business is vengeance. You can think of this situation as that. You’re knocking me loose, but I’ll avenge this mate of yours before I go.”

Understanding dawned on Scott. He suppressed a grateful smile and continued to hold his stare. The black mist appeared around pseudo-Sausage’s hands and feet, progressing even faster than before.

The alien looked down at his hands, holding one up to study the effect. “Hm, that will do. Next we just…” He took a small silver box from his pocket and fiddled with it. “Wait, that’s not… Right, got it.”

Scott watched curiously and leaned forward a little. A beam of bright red energy shot out of the front of the box, striking him in the chest. He dropped to the floor without a sound. The alien then sighed and placed the box on the ground by the cave’s entrance, then sat down next to Scott and waited.

~*~

When Sausage woke he first registered the sunlight streaming in from the front of the cave, and that was a relief. At least the night full of hordes of monsters was over. Next, however, came the feeling of the cave wall pressing in on him. His body felt oddly spread out, like his shoulders were too wide and his arms farther apart. He tried to move a little and nearly hit his head on close-hanging rock. Had there been some creeper around that collapsed a wall on him?

His gaze fell on a book sitting upon the black cloth where arrows and a potion had been, seeming far below his line of sight. That hadn’t been there before. He reached for it and—

Well, if he had been able to pick it up he probably wouldn’t have been able to turn the pages. His hand was gigantic in comparison. It wasn’t the cave that had changed. He had gotten bigger. But where was… “Ohgod. Scott? Scott??” The only thing stopping him from looking around in a panic was the threat of hitting his head again. “Please don’t tell me I crushed you…”

“Over here.” The voice had a strange quality to it, reminding him of endermen speech.

It took a moment because he was looking for a regular-sized person, but what he finally did see was a small (was it extra small because he was so big?) creature with purple crystalline horns coming out of its forehead, strangely shaped motes floating around pale yellow hair, and violet eyes that stared up at him. “Or down here, I guess I should say.”

“Oh, you’re tiny. That’s kind of cute.” Sausage giggled.

“And you’re stuck. I don’t know if you’ll fit through the way out even if you can crawl over there. Of all the places to turn into a giant,” Scott mused. “I’ll go get a pickaxe and try to get you out.”

“Wait, there’s a book here, it wasn’t in that bundle. I can’t, uh, pick it up.”

“All right, let me see.” The wall was just low enough for Scott to reach it. He started to flip through the book, wondering what relevance it had in the wake of them being shot by the terrifying skeletal archer. “This is…my handwriting. I don’t remember doing this.”

“What does it say?”

“Something about a creature called an Enigma. Huh… Oh! I put a little note at the end. …Oh.”

“That didn’t sound good.”

“That’s the thing that killed me when I was an angel.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know why this was here, but I guess I found information or something? But I still don’t remember writing this.”

“Maybe… it’s the cave. Like you found the crossbow and stuff, and the first time I came in here I found stuff I could use as a wither. I didn’t question it before.”

“The cave has prescient abilities?”

“I don’t know. Weirder things have happened.”

Scott batted at one of the motes floating around his head, not that it really did anything to affect it. “Obviously. Well, give me a few minutes.” He scurried out of the cave and Sausage couldn’t contain another giggle while watching him. He then worked on maneuvering around to do the aforementioned crawling toward the cave’s entrance, earning a few scrapes in the process when trying to figure out where his limbs could fit. This was going to take some getting used to.

Scott returned and started work on expanding the sides of the entrance. Sausage noticed the extra pickaxe strapped to his back. “Why did you bring a gold one?”

“I don’t know. I just kind of wanted it.”

“Huh, so… where am I going to sleep now? I’m not going to fit in the house…”

~*~

As time went on the cycle just kept continuing for the two of them. An excessively packed TNT trap took out Sausage despite his extra resilience as a giant, although it was that resilience that shielded Scott from the blast. Yet before long, in a similar fashion, Scott was caught unaware by a creeper, which dealt immediate death due to his smaller, less hardy state.

They soon found themselves in a new unusual situation when Sausage became an owl and Scott a red panda. They made a nest inside a small forest cave as they adjusted to animalistic senses, although it didn’t last long anyway when a dire wolf found them.

Throughout it all they stayed together as best they could, while Sausage soon outpaced Scott in the count as he continued to be driven to protect him. A lengthy amount of peace came again when Scott found himself settling in as a floran, content to just tend gardens again while the very plants themselves grew upon him, giving him his own personal flower crown at all times. Meanwhile, the various pools and house pond came in handy again when Sausage had a turn at being a merling. Scott took out his old trident to give him tips on using it, and showed him the best spots for fishing in the river. There weren’t as many adventures anymore, and as Scott put it one time, “Now I don’t have to go far to get the flowers I want.”

Reminded of a particular flower-gathering disaster, Sausage was glad to agree.

~*~

Scott idly kicked his bare feet in the water of the deeper of the western ponds, smiling at a late afternoon butterfly that was investigating the flowers growing in his hair. Sausage had been napping at the bottom of the pond and was on his way up while Scott simply waited for him, a picnic dinner set out nearby and plans to watch the sunset ahead of them.

Surfacing near the middle, Sausage swam over and rested his webbed hands on the tops of Scott’s feet, which the floran lightly alternated again to create small ripples between them. Sausage smiled up at him then patted one of his knees before going to the side and hauling himself out. With water running down his face from his hair, he gave Scott a little kiss, then they moved to the picnic blanket to eat.

It was a perfect evening… up until the red of the sunset failed to fade from the sky. Sausage peered at the horizon, doublechecking the sun’s position. “Um… Not liking that. We should maybe get inside…”

“Too late.” Scott was already looking toward the villa. Creepers and spiders had begun to appear en masse, and a group of zombies was starting to head their way. Scott put his hands to the ground and after a scowl of concentration, twisting vines emerged from the grass in front of the undead, tangling around them as they shambled forward. He caught up a few creepers as well.

Sausage reached back into the pond where he had left the trusty trident leaning on the wall, having a habit of keeping it nearby at all times. “We’re getting to the river this time,” he insisted. Scott nodded and left the sentient vines to do their work without him, and together they ran for the waterfall. Unimpeded this time, they reached the fountain and slid down into the river below. After the brief plunge they both surfaced and assessed the threat collecting on the banks to either side. They began to swim underwater with the current, hoping it would speed them along a little faster, with Scott leaving a trail of petals as the flowers were pulled from his hair by each dive.

Sausage dealt with any Drowned they encountered, which for the moment were thankfully few. But skeletal archers on the banks were becoming wise to their presence, and the two had to start diving deeper to avoid the arrows, with the merling providing breaths of air when it became too dangerous to surface. They found respite when the river opened up toward the ocean, but colder depths weren’t very agreeable to a floran so they started to head back up and hoped to find a spot of land with the least number of mobs possible.

As much as Scott didn’t mind Sausage kissing him to give him air, he was glad for the next breath he took on his own as he reached the surface first, and one of the green tendrils in his hair poked at his ear as if to tell him they didn’t appreciate being submerged for that long. Scott brushed at it and looked around for a safe place to get out, starting to feel a little uneasy without soil beneath his feet. The nearby beach, however, was already crawling with zombies, and they were now beginning to funnel toward him, sinking as they hit the water only to start being converted into Drowned.

Sausage had been scouting from below and grimaced at the sight as he swam back upward, but he had located what he had been looking for. He surfaced and reached for Scott with his free hand. “I know you would really rather get back on land right about now, but there’s no safety at all there. I found a spot we can hide out in until daybreak, it’s just another little swim down. Come on, I’ve got you.” He offered a reassuring smile.

Scott brushed at the tendril by his ear again, then smiled back, trusting the merling. Together they dived back under and Sausage guided the way. A trench lined with exposed magma provided a natural barrier but crossing it was risky for the floran. Sausage wrapped his arms around him and used the trident to propel through the water across it as fast as he could, then continued swimming for a little ways through a crevice before letting him go and pointing upward.

Above was a small pocket of humid air within a section of the tiniest lush cave either of them had ever seen. The glowberry vines barely had any fruit but it was enough light to see by. Scott gratefully climbed up from the deepslate to sink his feet into the clay. It wasn’t dirt, but it was enough to sustain the dripleaf, the nearest of which he petted as it leaned toward him on its stalk. New flower buds began to form in his hair. Sausage watched with a smile. It was always fascinating to see that happen.

Something gurgled behind him. The smile fell from his face, stomach turning with dread. So much for being safe. He only had time to notice that the Drowned that had found them had a head like a wither skeleton before a smoky black trident was thrust into his chest, and then he was the one gurgling as he was pushed backward against the clay wall, his own trident falling from his hand.

“SAUSAGE!” Scott yelled. Acting fast, he caused scores of dripleaf to erupt from the ground and shoot up to the ceiling, cutting off the wither-Drowned. As he rushed over, glowberry vines descended upon Sausage, wrapping around his chest to stem the flow of blood from his wounds, although Scott worried how effective it would be if the accursed trident had pierced too deep. “Hold on, hold on, Sausage, I’ll – I’ll think of something, okay?” He clasped the merling’s face between his hands, hoping to get him to focus on him. Sausage smiled weakly but there was already blood seeping out between the vines.

And then the withering took effect. With nothing to counteract it, at that point Scott could do little more than hold Sausage’s hand until the merling’s grip grew slack. As unfortunate as it seemed, it was now something they had grown accustomed to. Scott cradled him in his arms, leaving the vines in place to keep the wounds covered until Sausage regenerated with the change to a new form.

With no other indication of the hour, he relied on the progression of the original meager vines on the cave ceiling to mark time. Slowly but steadily they grew downward, and occasionally a new cluster of berries blinked into existence, adding a little more light. But after a while Scott decided it was a terrible way to keep track of time, because it seemed to be taking too long.

“Sausage, come back to me, please. Y-You can’t just leave me in here, okay?” He tried to laugh. “This was your idea. You know, it’s kind of silly, putting ourselves in a dead end like this with no plan for a way back if you can’t swim us out.” He leaned his head over his face, teardrops falling onto Sausage’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I said that. It wasn’t silly. It was a good idea. I should have blocked the way behind us sooner, just as a precaution. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to protect us. Y-You’re going to come back, right? You have to. …Sausage?”

He stroked his hair then slipped a hand under the vines to check for a heartbeat. “L-Listen, Sausage, I can get us out, don’t worry about that part. I can get roots to dig through even the stone and we won’t have to worry about the swimming part no matter what you are. But you’ve got to come back first. Okay?”

Scott gently laid him against the clay wall so he could climb a little higher and touch the ceiling to start summoning the roots as promised. If the unthinkable happened, he still needed a way out…  He then sank to his knees and looked at his hands, feeling helpless. “W-What am I supposed to do if you don’t come back? Sausage…tell me?”

New light suddenly blazed into view, but it wasn’t the soft orange of a glowberry. It was silvery and bright, and it came from between the vines around Sausage’s chest. Scott uttered a gasp of relief and hurried back down toward where he lay. The light spread, engulfing Sausage’s body as he was finally revived. The vines fell away, and before the glow even faded his silhouette alone stopped Scott in his tracks. The former merling didn’t move right away and so he couldn’t help crying out, “Sausage! Sausage! Please, wake up!”

On Sausage’s part, he was a little disoriented by the light but as it dimmed he could see the new, full blooms in Scott’s hair and thought to himself that this was good, because it meant the floran was unharmed. But he himself felt like he was on fire. “Urg…my head…is buzzing. Am I a thunderborn again?”

Scott answered with a voice full of awe, “No…No, you absolutely are not.”

Sausage shifted to sit up and felt a weight on his back. A familiar one, and… in three different places. The fire actually seemed to be focused behind his head. He stood up and like he had as a giant felt like he was towering over Scott, but it was only an illusion because of the power thrumming through his body.

“A-Angel,” Scott stammered. “…My…angel.”

Holy power was what he felt, stronger than ever before. Sausage looked around at himself, folding one set of wings forward so he could look at them. This time his feathers were white with silver edges, a barely perceptible pattern along the tips. There were three pairs of wings altogether; he wasn’t just any old angel this time. The memory of hierarchies and titles came to his mind. The fire at the back of his head was his halo, and its light was shining on Scott’s face like the sun. When he held out a hand toward the floran, Scott reached for him in turn and a vine coiled out along his arm, splitting into multiple leaves and a small sunflower that all turned upward toward the seraph’s face.

Sausage offered a quiet laugh and made an effort to consciously dim his aura. The vine withdrew and the sunflower popped up in Scott’s hair amongst the others. “Well, I think I can safely say that with this much power, nothing is going to hurt you ever again.”

Scott gave a laugh of his own. “So, you’re now the guardian angel you’ve always wanted to be. I would say you’ve earned it, and… everything might have been worth it.”

Sausage grinned at that, and pulled him closer to wrap him in his larger pair of wings for a hug. “We’ll wait here a little longer. I’m not that eager to test out my smiting abilities yet.”

As he leaned in for a kiss, the other flowers in Scott’s hair fell off and were replaced by a new crown made up of more small sunflowers.

 ~To be continued in Then We’ll Rewrite the Stars~