Rahcel



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    “Quit teasing,” Mydeimos hisses beneath him. His face is flushed, chest heaving.

    It’s not enough. He’s had Mydeimos beneath him before, more times than either of them would care to count, but never this slow; never this long. It’s novel, devastating, addicting.

    Or, Phainon wins a spar against Mydei. As per the rules of their battles, he's free to have the prince as he pleases.

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    19 Jul 2026

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    “Glad to see you back among the living,” Phainon says through a yawn, clearly having spent the night in the uncomfortable chair in the infirmary by Mydei’s side. Like he often does.

    Mydei’s head hurts. Just the regular kind of pain, easily managed by ignoring it until it goes away. But what makes it worse, is the confusion at his predicament. The memories returning to him in death used to vary in time and people who appeared in them. Why is it always Phainon nowadays?

    “Fuck you,” Mydei says, hoarsely. He feels like he is losing his mind.

    Phainon’s mouth locks mid-yawn and he blinks down at him stupidly, tilting his head with confusion. It’s probably fair, he hasn’t even done anything to earn Mydei’s ire as of late.

     

    or; Human brain lives for a few more minutes after dying, replaying the most cherished memories. Mydei starts seeing Phainon after each of his deaths.

     

    Translation into Russian (Русский) available: here
    Translation into Chinese (中文-普通话 國語) available: here

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    05 Jul 2026

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    “You’re distracted, Deliverer,” Mydei mutters. Despite saying this, he isn’t pulling any punches today.

    The silence between them becomes stiff, and Phainon needs to occupy his hands with something, anything. “I’m in the middle of… researching something,” he says.

    Mydei hums. “With the Grove?”

    Phainon feels sort-of-bad-sort-of-not for obfuscating the truth: one because it’s Mydei, and the other because the matter is about him confessing to Mydei, you see. He pulls a face. “You could say that.”

    Kremnoan Roses aren't real. Probably. Phainon is about ninety-nine percent sure. But after coming across an antique Kremnoan vase, Phainon swears that if he, by some miracle, manages to recreates them, he will confess to Mydei with a bouquet of mythical roses.

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    10 Apr 2026

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    Mydeimos’s smile is sharp as he shrugs. “What’s your name again?”

    “Phainon of—” Phainon cuts himself off, looking away. It doesn’t matter where he’s from. Not anymore. “Phainon.”

    “Phainon of Nowhere,” Mydeimos says, and those words disembowel Phainon, cutting into his belly and slicing clean across it. “Come to bed with me. We have a show to put on.”

    In the midst of an ongoing war between Okhema and Castrum Kremnos, Mydei's mother gifts him Phainon, an Okheman bed slave he neither wants nor needs. But there is more at stake for both Mydei and Phainon: between Gorgo's ploys, Eurypon's plans, and the advancing black tide, they are pulled between a growing desire for each other and the very fate of their world.

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    09 Apr 2026

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    “Long story short, Mydei’s messing with a DILF.”

    Titans strike him down now.

    Or, Mydei shouldn't have asked for a job to randomly appear in his life if he couldn't deal with the repercussions.

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    23 Mar 2026