Chapter Text
Frost pulled himself to his knees, blowing his duo-toned hair out of his face. Black on one side, white-blonde on the other—perfectly divided, impossible not to notice. He had grown used to the stares long ago, but that didn’t make them easier to endure.
Heterochromia was rare. Hair like this was something else entirely.
He was unique, he knew that. Still, the constant attention—people whispering, pointing, speculating—was enough to drive even the most self-absorbed individual insane. Rafessor and Florian tried to sympathise with him as best they could, but they could never truly understand the weight of being looked at before being known. The repetitiveness of the judgement by strangers, people who didn't understand that he didn't choose his hair to be like this.
A shriek snapped him back to reality.
Frost turned just in time to see Rafessor pinning a writhing Florian to the ground. Flo’s laughter rang out, loud and uncontrolled, as Rafessor mercilessly tickled his sides. Florian squirmed and kicked, trying and failing to break free.
Despite himself, Frost felt a small smile tug at his lips.
With each other, the three of them could be entirely themselves—no masks, no expectations, no pretending. There had been arguments over the years, moments when their bond had stretched thin, but it had never truly cracked. Never even come close.
Still… there were secrets.
Things Frost had never told them. Feelings he buried deep and refused to examine for too long. And he didn’t doubt Raf and Flo carried their own hidden thoughts as well. After all, what was a friendship without a secret or two?
Florian was nearly crying from laughter now, gasping for breath, while Rafessor looked far too pleased with himself. Frost watched them from the side, something unfamiliar twisting low in his stomach. It jabbed at his insides, sharp and unsettling.
Was he…jealous?
No. Don’t be stupid Frost, he scolded himself. They’re just best friends. We’re just best friends. Nothing more.
Suddenly, Florian went completely still.
Frost whirled around, adrenaline spiking—expecting a trader, a threat, an ambush. Anything.
Instead, Florian and Rafessor were staring skyward, eyes wide.
Frost followed their gaze.
He gasped aloud.
A silver object plummeted through the clouds, rapidly growing larger as it freefell toward the ground. None of them spoke. None of them even moved. They could only watch as it slammed into the earth with a deafening BOOM, the shockwave tearing through the still air around them.
Rafessor was the first to recover.
“Well,” he said slowly, “that’s new.”
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Thick smoke spiralled upward as the three admins landed near the impact site. Whatever the object had been, it had shattered on contact, leaving behind a mess of wrangled iron and disturbed earth. Frost stepped forward cautiously, eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of movement.
Something shifted.
Florian and Rafessor closed in behind him without a word, their presence comforting at his back. Together, they approached the crater until only a metre or two separated them from its gaping jaws.
They looked down.
Bodies.
Six figures lay scattered across the cracked ground below—some stirring faintly, others horribly still. Frost heard one of his bondmates suck in a shocked breath.
How many were dead?
He took a step forward, instinct screaming at him to help, but a firm hand caught his shoulder and stopped him. Frost spun around to face Rafessor.
“We don’t know who—or what—they are,” Rafessor said quietly.
Frost bit his lip, swallowing the sharp retort that threatened to spill out. Rafessor seemed to sense it, stepping back as he lifted his hand away. The lingering warmth vanished.
“I’m not saying don’t go,” Raf added. “Just… be careful.”
Before any of them could say another word, movement in the crater sent their eyes back to the hole.
One of the figures sat up.
Avian, Frost realised, spotting the bird-like wings folded awkwardly behind the stranger’s back. Definitely a he. The newcomer ran a shaking hand through his hair, eyes darting across the wreckage until they landed on someone lying nearby.
“No—no, no—”
The stranger scrambled across the debris and gathered the feebly moving figure into his arms, clutching them tightly.
Frost’s chest tightened.
If that had been him… and Raf and Flo lying broken beside him—
He didn’t need to look to know his bondmates were thinking the same thing.
Without another word, the three admins descended into the smoking wreckage, each silently hoping—praying—that peace was still possible.