Chapter Text
You did good today, Thoirt’s voice rumbles in my head. I don’t say anything in response, just scratch his neck in the spot he likes with one hand, the other still clutching the pommel of his scales as we head back toward Riorson House. I had gone back to the wards, as instructed, but had stayed at their very edge, assisting when able. Though the battle had been won, we had lost a lot on our way to victory.
The images of cadets, screaming and bloodied, of warriors taking their last breaths, floods my mind. I had seen a lot of death today, but I had seen more people being taken to makeshift infirmaries to be nursed back to health. I focus on that. I had crisscrossed in and out of the wards, pulling injured fighters to safety and loading them onto stretchers carried by gryphons…
I hadn’t seen anyone I knew well on one of those stretchers, but that didn’t mean they were okay. It could simply have meant they died on the battlefield. I shudder at the thought, forcing it from my mind. I am remiss to admit it, but I am worried about Violet—The shadows that had swept over the land, ending this, were unmistakably Xaden’s, and she was unmistakably the reason his power would flare so strongly. I hoped they were both okay.
Thoirt’s wings flare as we prepare for landing, and I press myself against him, bracing for the impact. Thank you, Thoirt. I offer as I slide from his back, landing in the tall grass. Get some rest. You need it. We had been flying nonstop, first with whatever Aaric needed me to deliver to Violet, and then scanning the battlefields perimeter from just inside the wards, looking for those bodies that needed to be pulled to safety.
As do you, He offers, blinking slowly at me before launching back into the sky, his powerful wingbeats sending a breeze over the landing field. I watch him until he disappears in the distance, then turn towards Riorson House. The windows are all alight with a golden glow, and sounds of celebration reach me even at this distance. The thought of celebrating turns my stomach inside out. I know we should celebrate the win for what it is, but it’s hard to feel like celebrating when I see the dead eyes of cadets starring back at me every time I close my eyes. Maybe it’s just one more thing that makes me weak, this inability to compartmentalize, but right now I couldn’t care less. My eyes and my heart are heavy when I think about making my way up to the house, to be greeted warmly and pulled into revelry… Instead, I make my way to a fallen tree at the outskirts of a pond awash in moonlight and have a seat.
“Fuck, Aetos, are you ever not following me?” I snap when I hear his footsteps behind me several minutes later. I don’t need to turn to know it’s him, I can feel his power, as easy to match to a person as the sound of their voice.
“Are you ever not making bad decisions?”
“Oh, really? You’re going to lecture me about making bad decisions?” I snap back, turning to glare at him. “You look awful.”
“If it helps, I feel much worse than I look.” I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes me at that.
“What are you doing here, Aetos?”
“Just trying to have a moment of peace before heading up to Riorson House. I can see now that isn’t going to happen,” He says, taking a seat on the far end of the same fallen tree I’m perched on.
I roll my eyes at him. “If you keep your mouth shut, I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Hard to believe that’s possible, but deal.” We both go silent after that, and shockingly the silence is rather… Comfortable. I can still sense the steady thrum of his power, though it’s much weaker than before I siphoned from him, and hear his sharp intakes of breath whenever he moves wrong and twinges a pain point. Aside from that, though, the only sounds are of the wildlife surrounding the pond; The garbled croak of a frog, the deep, musical hoot of an owl, the occasional drumbeat of a dragon’s wings far overhead… The land is a symphony, and I close my eyes to relish in its music. It’s the first time in hours I’ve felt calm; that my body has stopped shaking.
The moon has shifted in the sky before I break my vow and speak again, “So after all this we just go back to acting like everything’s normal? Battle Brief, Sparring, the rest of it?”
“As soon as we get back to Basgiath it will be training as usual,” Dain confirms, stretching his long legs out in front of him, rubbing at his right knee. “Preparing us for the next fight.” He’s silent for a moment. “You don’t want to be up there celebrating?” He asks, gesturing towards Riorson House, where the sounds of revelry still echo. Silhouettes still dance through the golden glow of the windows, some single shadows, others couples of two or three with their arms thrown around one another.
“It doesn’t feel like there’s much to celebrate,” I mutter, picking up a stone near the toe of my boot and tossing it into the pond, watching as it hits the water’s surface with a soft plop and sinks below. “You’re not up there, either, if you haven’t noticed.”
“It felt like there was somewhere more important for me to be,” He says simply, and when I turn to look at him, his gaze is locked on me. I feel myself flush and I toss another rock into the pond. This one falls short and hits close to shore; one of the frogs goes silent. “Besides, I need to see a Healer and the waitlist is about a mile long since I’m not on the brink of death.”
“What a shame,” I snark, surprised when he huffs out a laugh.
“If you really wanted me dead, today was your opportunity,” He says and shrugs, his eyes back on the pond. His face glows in the moonlight, the silver light highlighting his chiseled cheek bones and the proud angle of his nose. His curls are mussed from whatever fights he partook in today, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His forearms flexi as he follows my lead and chucks a rock into the water. I let myself stare for approximately twenty seconds before I toss another rock into the pond, hitting it further out than Dain did.
“I don’t want you dead,” I get to my feet. “I just want you away from me.” I finish, spinning on a heel and walking up to Riorson House.
---
The next morning we’re heading back to Basgiath, a riot of dragons tearing through the sky, back to our War College.
Violet made it back in the early hours of the morning, but Xaden didn’t, and I don’t ask any questions. His absence is a vivid reminder of Liam’s—the brothers I spent several years of my life with, both gone. I know Xaden isn’t dead, but Violet looked like she was going to be ill when asked about what happened, so I didn’t press. “Not dead” is good enough. It has to be.
I hate myself for feeling jealous that Violet still has both of her siblings. That I was able to save Mira when she couldn’t save Liam. I hate myself for feeling that, and yet, no matter how often I push it away, the thought still comes back. I would never change what I did for Mira, but the hurt is a black hole in my heart. Why does she get to live, and Liam doesn’t? Why does Brennan get to come home, and Xaden doesn’t? Playing that game is going to lead you to insanity. Thoirt chides, and I know he’s right, but the pain is too fresh for me to be rational. There is so much anger and fear inside of me I can barely keep it contained. I have never felt so completely alone.
I scratch Thoirt’s red scales, right in that spot he likes, reminding myself that he is here. He is fine, and I will never have to be without him. There is a peace in knowing that the last of my family, that Thoirt, cannot leave this plane without me. I will never have to know what it’s like to live without him. It doesn’t make-up for what I’m missing, but the ebb of my loneliness blurs at the edges. Stop being so sentimental, it’s unbecoming,He huffs. I smirk, scratching the scales harder before grabbing the pommel with both hands, preparing for our descent.
We have been flying for hours; from dawn to dusk. The wind has been tearing at me with ice cold fingers and my skin has gone numb. I only wish the flight could have numbed my heart instead.
Basgiath rises in the distance.
Back to training as usual.
--
“Too much! Too much!” Bowen screams, and Lynx jerks him backward, my hand falling from his shoulder into empty space.
“S-Sorry!” I chirp, feeling my skin flush bright red as I back away, absolutely mortified.
Professor Carr runs over, “You’re fine,” He snaps at Bowen, who glares at the professor’s back as soon as he turns. I think he might even be prepared to raise his middle finger, but Lynx smacks him lightly upside the head. “I thought you were able to use your signet on the battlefield, Cadet? Why are you still letting it control you?”
“It was different then! It was—“ Eyes here. You’re life. The memory flashes, and now I’m embarrassed for entirely different reasons.
Professor Carr takes a deep breath. He’s better at signets made for battle, like Lynx’s ability to control shadow, or Bowen’s ability to disappear and reappear several feet away. Mine is next to useless to him, I’m sure. He only understands terms of more power, while I’m clinging desperately to wanting less.
“You need to practice more, Cadet Mairi. You should have more control over it by this point, and not just in matters of life or death.” I know my face is still red as I nod, keeping tears at bay. Gods it feels awful to be so damn terrible at something. You have saved countless people with your power. Do not allow someone to belittle you for not understanding it. I soak in Thoirt’s reassurances, but even if my abilities aren’t completely useless, my attempts at controlling them have been.
I killed General Sorrengail. I remind him.
She gave you her life. He counters. In siphoning her power to the wardstone you saved countless others. And you didn’t kill Aetos. No, I didn’t. I had been able to stop myself then. Barely. Only because the thought of sucking the life from those honey-colored eyes had turned my blood to ice. I didn’t want to be a killer.
“I’ll keep trying,” I promise Professor Carr, though I’m not sure if there’s any truth to the words.
“Good,” He says. “If you want me to continue to instruct you, I expect to start seeing some improvement.” His words aren’t unkind, but the ultimatum hits like a blow. I need to figure this out before I’m so abysmally hopeless at it that an instructor bows out.
Class ends a few minutes later, and I'm gathering my thinks when I hear Bownen shout for me. “Hey, Mairi!” I slow my pace and wait for him to catch-up. “Uh, sorry, about that. It just felt… Weird. Losing my power. I didn’t mean to like, cause a scene or anything.” He offers me an embarrassed smile, tousling his dark hair.
“It’s fine, Bowen,” I mutter, adjusting my pack on my shoulder. “If you can’t handle me, you can just say that.”
“Feisty,” He laughs, flashing me a grin. “I like that.” He gives me a once over and wiggles his brows before turning down a different corridor. I roll my eyes, heading towards my room.
Bowen is cute enough, but I’ve decided to swear off men for the time being—Partially because I’m not sure I can handle giving someone my heart and watching them die, and partially because I’m afraid I’ll lose control of my power mid-make out session and accidentally kill them. I already slipped in class, immediately after convincing myself I had some sort of control, so slipping outside of the barriers of instruction is inevitable. It was more so a matter of when, not if. I sigh. Fucking useless. Fuck me.
“Mairi!” I snap out of my self-hatred to see Dain at the end of the hallway I’d just turned down, bruises mottling the exposed skin of his arms and the left side of his face still covered in scratches that will probably take a few weeks to heal. “Have you seen Lynx?”
“I’ve got eyes, and we’re both first years, and you know we both just had class, so yeah,” I say, continuing down the hallway. Dain closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. “He just left Professor Carr’s signet training class. He was heading toward the flight field.”
“Thanks,” Dain offers, turning in that direction.
“Why?” I can’t keep myself from asking. Dain stops and turns his gaze back to me, as if considering whether he should tell me or not.
“Questions about his shadows.” Is all he gives me before our paths go in opposite directions.
After dinner that evening, I slip outside and make my way to an open space that no one else has claimed. You’ll be nearby in case I come too close to killing myself, right?
Your confidence knows no bounds. Thoirt grumbles, but I look overhead and see him in the skies above, keeping a necessary eye on me. I’m not sure what he could do if I mess-up too badly, but his presence is, as always, a comfort.
I grab the rounded piece of stone I’d found earlier, a crumbled bit of Basgiath, and turn it around in my palms. I’m going to imbue this rock and then toss it to the bottom of the lake the next time Thoirt and I fly over. Or maybe Professor Carr will have a better plan for it. As long as I can get rid of it I honestly don’t care.
Everyone has told me it’s more dangerous to try and use my own power to imbue, but I’m tired of hurting other people. I’m not sure I would have many cadets volunteer to sit outside, freezing, while I suck the power from them and hopefully don’t accidentally kill them in the process. “Alright, Mairi, you can do this,” I tell myself as I close my eyes, cracking open the window to Thoirt’s power and focusing on it. I let it flow in, a small, steady trickle that I try to hold onto. But the power is like sand, and the tighter I hold it, the quicker it slips through my fingers.
I sit outside, cross-legged, for so long that my legs go numb, and yet there’s no power imbued in the stone. It’s still just a soulless piece of Basgiath. I scream in frustration and bury the stone in my pack, before rising to my feet and storming off.Good thing you’ve remained calm about it. Thoirt chuckles.
Calm is not my strong suit, I snap back. He chuckles again and I close the window that leads to his power, letting the scene outside it turn to night, blocking him out for a moment’s peace.
I don’t have any more success the next night, or the night after that, nor the fourth night in a row that I sit out there holding that stupid rock in my hand and focusing on Thoirt’s threads of power. By the fifth night I’m so frustrated that I toss the stone into the woods, knowing it’s no different from any other fucking rock out here.
The other cadets have started avoiding me during signet training, though Bowen is always game to let me practice on him. He sits in front of me now, and I have a hand wrapped around his wrist. I can feel his power swirling inside of him, and I reach for it, grabbing it thread by thread and pulling. I can feel it answering to my call, moving from Bowen’s wrist into my palm as I tug at it. He tries to stifle a gasp, but my eyes fly open all the same. He’s sitting in front of me, biting down on his bottom lip so hard it’s gone pale, clearly trying not to scream about whatever pain I’m inflicting. “Fuck, Bowen, I’m sorry,” I sigh, dropping his wrist.
“No! It really felt like you were getting there this time!” He protests, reaching his arm back out toward me. “You weren’t draining me too fast or anything!” His optimism makes me crack a smile, but I shake my head all the same.
“I appreciate it, but I’m done for the day,” I sigh.
“Cadet, give me a moment with Cadet Mairi,” Professor Carr snaps from behind me. Bowen offers me a sympathetic smile before blinking and reappearing across the room. Gods, it seems so easy for everyone else. “You’re out.”
“Wha—What?” I gasp, staggering to my feet. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not spending my time or my cadet's time on training your signet when you’re too afraid to wield. You’re out of my class until further notice, Cadet Mairi.” His words aren’t said with any venom, but they feel like a slap across the face.
“No, I’m trying, I swear, I just—“
“You’re just afraid of your power, and no one here can teach you how not to be afraid. Once you figure out how to get past that part, you’ll be welcome back. But until then I’m not having anyone else spend time holding your hands when they could be training their own signets.” I have never felt so humiliated in my life. I nod, grabbing my pack and turning my back to the classroom before the tears start. The only thing that could make this worse is if I start fucking crying in front of Professor Carr.
As soon as I hit the hallway I turn towards my room, ready to throw myself onto my bunk and have a full-on pity party. Instead, I hear Thoirt’s voice in my head, I did not bond a quitter.
I’m not quitting, Thoirt, I’m being fired, I snap back.
So dramatic, He scoffs. Find someone else to teach you.
Who?
I can’t give you all the answers, Mairi. I swear he ends his sentence on a yawn, and the idea of him taking a nap somewhere in the sunshine while I’m trying desperately to control his power infuriates me. That he can be so relaxed and I still can’t fucking control the power he’s given me. At least the frustration pushes out the embarrassment.
I’m still rushing down the corridor when an insane idea pops into my head. Find another teacher. My legs switch paths of their own accord, following the trajectory of my thoughts before the intelligent side of my brain, or my sense of pride, can catch-up.
I enter the sparring gym a few minutes later and set my pack on one of the seats, making my way towards the mats, where I know he’ll be at this hour, practicing fight maneuvers on the test dummies while most of the cadets under his command are under the watchful care of Professor Carr.
And there Dain is, shirtless, the muscles in his back flexing as he throws a punch, quickly followed by a second. Sweat drips down his back, beading over the hard ridges of his tanned shoulders as they flex again, releasing another devastating one-two combo. He pushes his hair back, tugging his hand through his chestnut curls, before reaching to the hemline of his pants, fingers flexing as he tugs them back up on his waist. He seems to sense my presence then, and spins towards me, thick brows furrowed in confusion.
“Mairi? What are you doing here? Have you been… Crying?” Gods, how embarrassing.
I swipe quickly and my eyes, then swallow and take a breath. “I need you.”
“Wha—What?” He asks, brown eyes widening. "Is something wrong?"
“No--I just...I need your help.”
“Fuck, it really is the end of the world,” He chuckles, coming off the mat and pulling his shirt on over his head. He pushes his sweat-slicked curls off his forehead and crosses his arms, muscles bulging at the seams of his shirt. “What do you need?”
“I need your help training my signet.”
“I’ve seen you use your signet flawlessly within the last week,” He looks to his wrist, as if remembering how it felt when I took his power. He brushes a thumb over the pulse point there. I shouldn’t be surprised he doesn’t want to be in that situation again. “Why would you need help?”
“Because I still can’t fucking do it!” I scream. My voice echoes in the sparring gym and I’m grateful we’re the only two in here. “I still don’t know what I’m doing, and of the two people I’ve “successfully” siphoned on, only one of them is alive!” My emotions are getting away from me, as they’re so keen to do, but I don’t tether them back in. I’m ashamed at myself for crying again, but keeping the emotions bottled in hasn’t been helping. Maybe letting them out will. “Professor Carr has given up on me, and I’m terrified that if I can’t figure out what I’m doing, I’m going to kill someone else!”
Dain’s features remain neutral, unbothered by the rage-filled rant or the tears streaking down my face. “Okay,” He says, grabbing his water skin and taking a long drag from it. “I’ll help you.”