When will I get to see you again?
That’s what it sounded like Zed said.
Shen opens his eyes. The position of the moon in the sky is the only indication of how long he has left until dawn. Sometimes during his meditation he will reach a state like dreaming, where he can watch a separate world through eyes that are not his own. His communion with the stars gives him the ability not only to watch over the world and its inhabitants, but also to see the ripples of balance. Sometimes, though it has become rarer over the years, they allow him to see Zed.
Tonight he was sitting on the rooftop of the temple Shen recognizes as the Kinkou’s previous—Kusho’s final temple. It was not meditation that Zed was in, but reflection. He watched the stars pensively, and Shen had felt almost as if his brother had been staring at him instead. He had let his guard down and removed the mask so that Shen could see what that young boy he’d known had become.
Tired eyes and a lined mouth. Shen imagined in that moment that he was the only one in years who had seen Zed like this. Then that tired mouth had opened and asked:
When will I get to see you again?
The sound was garbled, but he has years’ worth of experience understanding Zed in every condition. Now, on the privacy of his own veranda, Shen allows himself a moment of privacy too. The mask is tugged off, and his hair stands up on end as though the chill air has startled it. There’s a scar around his own mouth, he knows, that says more than Shen has in years.
Zed cannot commune with the stars, so Shen knows he is truly alone. He tilts his chin towards the sky, letting his eyelids fall shut as he enjoys the feeling of the breeze on his bare skin. The mask is held in his lap, between two tight fists.
“I do not know, brother.” But I hope it is soon.
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