The Lost Prince and The Demon King [BL]

"Wake up," Myran said gently.

Perry felt his body being softly shaken. He blinked blearily, taking a moment to catalog his surroundings.

The river. The barge. The boy smiling innocently up at him.

Myran. His name was Myran. And he was... where the hell was he?

"Where are we? Are we there yet?" Perry rubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes. He ignored the way his eyelids felt like they were coated with sand and glanced around.

"It is a halfway point. Master Rennin's temple is inland and we will need to find other transportation."

"You don't mean... horses, do you?" Because that was the last thing he needed.

Myran let out a small laugh. "No, horses are expensive. We can walk or rent donkeys."

Donkeys. Donkeys? Surely, Perry had misheard him.

As it turned out, he hadn't. An hour later, Perry found himself staring dubiously at a sturdy-looking gray donkey. The animal gazed back at him with what he could have sworn was equal skepticism, its long ears twitching occasionally as flies buzzed around its head. 

"Too expensive, too expensive," Myran exclaimed for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Too cheap. No, too cheap," the weathered old man whose deeply lined face suggested he'd been renting out donkeys to unsuspecting city boys since the dawn of time, answered back. 

They went for a couple more rounds while Perry rotated his feet and legs this way and that to make sure nothing was broken. After a while, Myran and the man finally seemed to reach an agreement.

Perry kept his distance as Myran secured their few belongings — two small bags containing some food and Perry's grimy clothes — to the donkey's back. The whole situation felt absurd. Then again, what part of all of this didn't?

"I could only get one," Myran said apologetically. "The price was higher than expected."

"That's fine. You take it," Perry said quickly. "I could use the exercise anyway. My legs are still feeling stiff from sitting for so long. At least I got some shuteye."

Myran stared at him in confusion. "Yes, your eyes are usually shut when you sleep."

"That's not… never mind. Just… get on. Or hop on. I'm not really sure how one would go about riding this… creature."

Myran started to protest, but Perry held up his hand. "Really, it's fine. I'm a city boy, born and raised between concrete buildings. There's no way I trust myself on that thing anyway."

"If you insist," Myran finally relented. "We will take the secondary road to the temple to avoid any more Royal Guards or Messengers."

"Sounds fine to me," Perry agreed easily enough.

Myran got on the donkey and Perry took his position a safe enough distance from the animal. He didn't need to get bitten on top of everything else. 

And then they were off.

The dirt road stretched before them like a dusty ribbon winding through the countryside. The sweet scent of wildflowers and fresh grass filled the air. They walked past small ponds populated by ducks and insects flitting all over the place. The water reflected the sky, creating mirrors that caught the morning light.

Perry's injured foot ached dully with each step, but the pain was manageable. The peaceful surroundings was a welcome distraction, and watching Myran perched on top of the donkey — looking way more comfortable than Perry would have been — gave him a chance to ask some of the questions dancing around his head. 

"So, assuming this isn't all some kind of fever dream, tell me about these Crimson Star Lords," Perry said, breaking the companionable silence that had fallen between them. "What's their deal?"

Myran's expression grew serious. "They are powerful magic wielders who have fallen from the righteous path. They draw their power from the Circles of Hell itself." 

"When you say Circles of Hell, do you mean literally or as a kind of metaphor?"

"They are very real." Myran paused, considering his next words carefully. "There are supposed to be nine circles, each more terrible than the other. But two of them—" he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, "—two of them are sealed. Or so I've heard whispered in the temple corridors."

"You don't say. Any whispers as to why these circles might be sealed?"

Myran glanced around, his fingers tightening around the reigns of the donkey. "I am not supposed to talk about this. We are taught about the Circles of Hell because we must understand our enemies if we are to defeat them. But speaking so openly about…" Myran shook his head quickly and pressed his lips together. 

"No hell talk, got it. Then… what about these so-called Heavenly Plains you mentioned earlier?" Perry asked. Myran's eyes immediately lit up.

"Ah, the celestial realm!" Myran's whole demeanor changed, his face taking on a dreamy look. "That is where the gods dwell, ruled by the Sun Father himself. Below him are the other gods, then the demigods, and the saints who earned their place through great deeds and unwavering virtue."

Perry nodded, trying to keep track of this supposed celestial hierarchy. He still hadn't ruled out the possibility that he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, his mind conjuring up elaborate hallucinations. The memory of those flashing lights coming from people's hands during the fight still nagged at him, going against all his attempts of rationalizing everything.

"And this Golden Light temple we're heading to," Perry ventured, "what exactly happens there?"

"It is a sacred place of wisdom and enlightenment," Myran said with reverence. "Master Rennin teaches the honorable and righteous ways of the world to those who seek understanding." He straightened his back proudly. "There is no finer temple in all of Avare."

Perry filed away the name, though he doubted it would help him figure out where in the world he actually was. He'd never heard of a anywhere called Avare in any of his history classes. Or movies. Or the few books he'd read. 

The sun climbed higher as they walked, casting shorter shadows across the road. Perry was just starting to appreciate the rhythm of their journey when he noticed Myran slowing the donkey's pace. Ahead, a wooden bridge stretched over a narrow river, but Myran seemed to be looking beyond that. 

"Is everything okay?" Perry asked, noting the sudden tension in the boy's shoulders.

"There's a graveyard up ahead," Myran said quietly. "It holds the remains of warriors from an ancient battle."

Perry squinted into the distance, making out what looked like worn stone markers spread across a field. "So? Dead people aren't dangerous. They're just... dead."

Myran turned to him, disbelief written clear across his face. "Your education is severely lacking," he said, shaking his head.

"Thanks. Again," Perry replied dryly. "Is there another road we could take?"

"Yes, but this is the shortest path to the temple." Myran squared his shoulders, clearly trying to project confidence. "And with the sun out, nothing dangerous should happen. We should push forward, no matter the perils."

Perry wanted to brush off the boy's concerns, but something in Myran's tone made him pause. He spoke with so much certainty that it was hard to shake the tendril of uncertainty that curled in the pit of his stomach. He eyed the distant graveyard with some hesitation. Maybe Myran was right and his education was really lacking in ways he'd never even considered.