Chapter 5: Aftermath
By the time the two of them reached the edge of Acrine village, the sky had fully darkened and the thin moon glowed a hazy, soft light.
“You sure you don’t want me to help you inside?” Wren asked not for the first time since they’d begun the trip back. Enya shook her head.
“No, it’s fine.” Her wounds ached and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, but more than that she didn’t have the energy to play peacemaker between Wren and Nadine’s inevitable tirade. One scolding was enough; she didn’t need to hear two.
The mercenary nodded. “Alright, be sure to get some rest. I’d take tomorrow off if I were you.”
“You too,” Enya muttered. Wren raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue.
“I’m staying at the tavern. Come find me whenever you’re ready.” She gave a wave and turned to head the other direction. Enya found her mouth opening on instinct, ready to answer with the customary “Sixth bless your travels,” but she stopped herself. Considering the woman in front of her housed the soul of the Sixth, it didn’t seem like an appropriate response.
Once Wren was out of sight and she had no more excuses to delay the inevitable, Enya sighed and made her way over to her house. The lights were on, a warm glow lighting up the small windows as she approached. There was no question that her sister was still awake.
Enya hadn’t even finished knocking when the door swung open and a scowling Nadine greeted her in the entryway, hands on her hips and her head tilted up to emphasize her slight height advantage.
“Where were you,” she demanded.
Enya blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden light pouring from inside. “Finishing the funeral rite.”
“Uh huh. And what else.”
“I didn’t go anywhere else.”
“Oh for the love of—“ Nadine groaned. “I mean what else were you doing.”
Her mind drifted back to the fight against Aeon, the feeling of burning flames followed by cold, the talk with Wren afterwards. The woman hadn’t explicitly said she couldn’t tell others about what had happened, but she’d mentioned that she wasn’t supposed to talk about Arks with mortals. Enya frowned. Mortals. She could never get used to that word.
Nadine furrowed her brow. “What? You look constipated.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did that mercenary woman do something?”
“Wren,” Enya corrected automatically. She shook her head and decided to omit parts of the truth. “No, we just ran into a Decay on the way there so it took longer.”
Nadine squinted at her in the way she did when she was trying to tell if Enya was lying or not. After a few moments, she finally sighed and swung the door open fully, Enya stepping back just in time to avoid being hit with it. “Hurry up, you’re letting the cold in,” Nadine said, already turning to go inside. Enya quickly followed, carefully shutting the door behind her.
Warm light greeted her as she stepped into the little house. The lamps had all been lit, and Nadine had placed a few candles on the windowsill as well. She set her sword down by the doorway, then turned and noticed a plate of food on the table that Nadine quickly snatched up and took over to the stove.
“Wait a couple minutes,” she muttered, and Enya gratefully collapsed back onto the limp couch.
A few minutes later, Nadine turned, heated food at the ready, and paused. Her eyes widened. “What the hell happened to you?” She set the plate down and hurried forward, immediately rushing to inspect her wounds. Enya must look worse than she thought.
“Decay.”
Nadine cursed. “Fuck, it must’ve been strong.”
Enya hummed in response. “Wren killed it.”
“Did she?” Nadine stepped back and grabbed the plate, bringing it over to the couch. “Guess I’ll have to thank her later then.” She held the fork up in front of her. “Hurry and eat or it’ll get cold again.”
Enya took the food without complaining, taking a bite of the broiled meat. Flavors burst in her mouth and she sighed in satisfaction, not realizing how hungry she’d been. She quickly devoured the rest of the plate. “Did Raynor and Theresa get back?”
“Theresa was done like an hour after you left. Raynor got back later.” She paused, eyes hardening. “He and Altair got in another fight.”
Enya frowned. “What was it about?”
Nadine released a long sigh. “You know, the usual. Apparently Raynor scheduled his Rite and Altair blew up at him. Not that I really blame him,” she added under her breath.
In order to become a Paragon, someone first had to be a licensed practitioner. Practitioners were specialists at magic; whereas the average person avoided using magic in order to keep themselves as healthy and long-lived as possible, practitioners specialized in finding ways to improve their magic output. A regular person would used magic simply by drawing from their innate reserves, but practitioners trained themselves to draw in atmospheric magic, mix in just enough of their innate magic to make it usable, and then cast with that converted power. It took years of dedication and practice, but the end result was that practitioners were capable of far grander feats of magic.
Being a practitioner did not, however, mean a longer life. Quite the opposite. In order to begin the process of drawing in and converting atmospheric magic, someone had to have space available in their reserves to take in a new outside source. This meant that in order to even begin training, a practitioner had to sacrifice decades off their life. And while converting atmospheric magic did mean less innate magic used, the amount was still greater than zero. Combined with a practitioner’s already reduced innate reserves and they were some of the shortest lived people on Elaren.
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Enya could still remember Maren, slowly withering away. First she’d noticed her become slower during their practice spars, then the woman’s increasingly sluggish movements, and finally, one day she couldn’t move at all anymore. Enya had sat by her bedside with Nadine, watching the life drain away from the woman who had saved her life. Watched as she was killed by her own magic.
(When the other Paragons came to give their condolences, some of them had said Maren was lucky. Other motion affinities spent years paralyzed before dying; at least this way she didn’t have to suffer for long, they’d say.)
(Enya had shoved those people out of the house and slammed the door on their faces.)
Enya’s gaze drifted over to the candles, flickering softly by the windowsill. Altair had never approved of Raynor and Theresa’s goals of becoming practitioners, Raynor in order to become a Paragon and Theresa to improve her medical skills. He was a little kinder Theresa, who had decided to take the slow approach of steadily using her innate magic until she’d naturally used up enough to begin practitioner training. Raynor, however, had opted for a more direct approach.
The Rite was a simple process; a person was taken to a secluded location and monitored by practitioners as they forcibly expelled their magic until they had enough capacity to begin training. It was the fastest way to start, but also notoriously painful and very easy to go wrong; it wasn’t uncommon for people to drain too much magic and die in the process.
Enya had always known Raynor was going to do the Rite, he’d told her years ago and practically begged for her not to tell Altair. Still, it felt different to hear that he’d scheduled it. More tangible. “I see.”
Nadine sighed and reached over to grab the empty plate before Enya could protest, carrying it over to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes. Hurry up and get some rest; you look like shit. You know where the medicine is. Call me if you need anything.”
Enya nodded gratefully, rising from the couch and taking a moment to steady herself before stepping down the hallway.
Sleep that night was a restless affair. Her eyes had fallen shut easily enough, eyelids weighed down with fatigue, but her mind stayed awake, churning with thoughts. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but she couldn’t get the image of red eyes out of her memory. She heard Wren’s voice echoing in her head, Aeon called you an Ark because you are one.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, Enya woke up feeling just as tired as the night before. Her wounds, at least, hurt significantly less. She’d have to remember to thank Theresa for the salve again; it had saved her from a lot of pain over the years. She didn’t know what she’d do without it.
Enya dressed and got ready at a slow pace, constantly pausing to rub the sleep from her eyes. It was well past noon by the time she finally made her way into the living room.
A plate of eggs and toast sat on the table beside a note in written in Nadine’s small, neat handwriting. I’m heading to work, it read. I already told Morris you’re not working today so I’d better not see you out of the house. Enya snorted and folded the paper, sitting down to eat. The eggs were cold, but they still tasted heavenly to her. She didn’t think Nadine would appreciate her going to the tavern, but that was something she couldn’t be talked out of. She had to see Wren, had to get the questions bouncing around her head answered.
She hurried to finish the meal, eating in quick bites, before she rose, threw on a cloak, and headed for the door.
—
Nadine scowled at her from the tavern counter, but Enya ignored her. She paused at the doorway, scanning the interior. Finding Wren was easy; there weren’t many people at this time of day, and the woman easily stuck out in a crowd. She was seated a little ways away from the door, sipping on a drink and flipping through the morning newspaper. She looked up and smiled at Enya, setting the paper aside as she stood up and walked over.
“Morning,” she greeted.
“The First blesses the day,” she said automatically. Her jaw clamped shut and she once again wondered how appropriate these sayings were. Wren simply chuckled, so at least it didn’t seem like Enya had offended her.
“Your injuries look better,” the woman commented. “Hope you didn’t have too much trouble sleeping last night.”
“It was fine.”
Wren didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push the issue. “I’m guessing you’ve got a lot of questions, so why don’t we head outside somewhere and chat?”
Enya nodded in agreement. She was about to turn and head out the door when she noticed Nadine frowning across the room, her sister’s eyes darting between her and Wren with suspicion. She waved reassuringly at her. Nadine didn’t seem convinced, but Enya didn’t have the energy to come up with a better excuse, so she just gestured for Wren to exit and did her best to indicate that she was fine. She wasn’t sure how successful she was, and she left the tavern with the feeling of Nadine’s eyes on her back.
It was a cloudless day, the blue expanse of the sky seeming especially huge with nothing to interrupt it. A few pedestrians could be seen strolling along the dirt road, enjoying the weather, and a soft breeze wove its way through the short wooden buildings lining the street. Wren pointed down the road. “There’s a park up ahead, let’s head there and talk.”
Enya followed the woman silently, and they soon reached their destination. Despite Wren calling it a “park,” it was really no more than a small garden that the florist had insisted on planting, and the town council had added a few benches around it to make it more presentable. It was empty, and Enya took a seat beside Wren on one of the stone benches. It felt cool under her. The ring of pink and white flowers swayed in front of them.
“Alright, what do you want to know?” Wren asked. Enya took a deep breath, having run through her questions hundreds of times in her head already during her sleepless night.
“Yesterday you said I have one of the fragments, which means I’m an Ark.” Wren nodded in confirmation, and Enya continued. “But I haven’t awakened yet, so I’m not too different from a regular person right now.” Another nod. Enya inhaled. “Awakening. What is that? What do you mean by it?”
“It’s exactly like it sounds,” Wren said. The wind ruffled through her hair, and she leaned back on the bench. “Fragments attach to compatible souls, but no soul’s going to be perfect. So even if you have the fragment inside you, it can take multiple incarnations before it’s fully bonded with your soul. When that happens, that’s when you awaken as an Ark.”
She frowned. “It takes that long?”
“It depends on the Ark. The oldest Arks awakened within a few centuries of the Shattering, while the current youngest Ark awakened just a hundred years ago. There’s no telling how many incarnations it’ll take.”
New questions rose to the surface, and Enya leaned forward, her fingers gripping around the edges of the bench. Her heart drummed in her chest, and when she spoke, her voice sounded loud in the empty garden.
“Is there any way to awaken faster?”