Chapter 9: Midnight Conversations
The wooden post bent, curving towards the side. Enya narrowed her eyes, sending out a second pulse of magic and shifting her hands, drawing a line through the air. The wood followed the motion in jerky, stilted movements, bending the opposite way. Finally, she clasped her hands together, breath heavy with exertion as she fought to maintain the strands of magic. Slowly, inch by inch, the wood warped back into its original form.
The moment it was straight again, she hunched over, hands on her knees. The glow of magic faded as she fought to catch her breath. There was a strange sensation lingering in her body; her skin felt looser, more malleable, like it might begin melting. She shuddered.
“Consequences?” Wren’s voice called from the side. Enya tilted her head up to see the woman approaching and nodded shakily.
“Yeah, it’s hard to get used to at first. Personally I’ve always thought form magic has one of the most unpleasant consequences. Is it cracking or melting for you?”
“Melting,” Enya said. She straightened, breath marginally more steady, though each inhale and exhale made her feel like her lungs would burst. She swiped away some of the sweat dripping down her forehead, finding her skin sticky to the touch. Wren made a sympathetic noise. She turned to the side, placing a hand against the wooden post, and knocked against it a few times. It remained firm and unmoving.
“Well done,” she complimented. “You’ve come a long way.”
Exhausted as she was, Enya couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face as she stared up at the perfectly straight post. It had been a week since she’d first managed to crudely reshape that cube of clay. Once she understood the theory behind form magic, improvements had come at a much faster pace, though she found that, while her control increased, she always came away feeling just as tired.
Still, despite the fatigue, there was something thrilling about watching her magic improve. It made her feel strong, powerful. The last time she’d felt this sort of excitement from training was when she’d first learned sword fighting from Maren.
“Here.” Wren held out a canteen of water, which Enya took gratefully. “How’re your reserves?”
Enya took a moment to finish drinking and screw the lid back on. She frowned, focusing. “About an eighth less, I think.” More than she’d realized. That would explain why she’d been so tired lately.
“Take a break tomorrow.”
Enya pursed her lips. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted.
The woman smiled in amusement. “Maybe, but it’s better to be safe.” Her voice took on a more serious tone. “Besides, wasn’t one of your friends doing the Rite tomorrow?”
Enya’s eyes widened. The Rite. The past week she’d been so focused on training that she’d completely forgotten Raynor was doing it tomorrow. How long had it been since she’d last seen him? These past few weeks were such a consistent schedule of recordkeeping and training that she hadn’t had time for much else. She stared down at the ground. The grasses, once tall and springy, had flattened steadily over the time they’d spent here training.
Wren watched her, silent. After a moment’s pause, Enya felt a hand on her shoulder, though it was gone once she looked up. The woman turned away and gestured for Enya to follow. “It’s gotten late,” she said. “You should head back and rest.”
Blinking, Enya peered up, realizing how dark it had gotten. There were no visible gaps in the canopy, all of them merged together with the night sky. She nodded slowly, moving to follow Wren. Her eyes lingered on the wooden post as she exited the clearing.
—
Enya didn’t go home right away. After Wren left to return to the tavern, she’d turned, about to head to her house, but found herself pausing. There was a restless energy thrumming through her body, crawling along her skin and rolling inside her veins. She doubted that she’d be able to fall asleep anytime soon. So, she turned away and started walking the opposite direction.
Acrine village at night felt like a different place. There were no passersby waving at her while she strolled down the quiet, empty streets. Curtains were drawn shut and store windows dark; the colorful wares displayed on the windowsills became vague, amorphous silhouettes. Above her, the hazy orange glow of the street lamps cast odd shadows over the road, which occasionally sparkled as individual stones caught the moonlight. A cold breeze rustled through the leaves, and Enya shivered, the sweat from training evaporating. She turned a corner, hoping to get out of the direct path of the wind, when she noticed a figure pacing along the road, walking back and forth in front of a brick building that she recognized as the post office. The person was tall and a little hunched over, as if in thought. As Enya moved closer, her eyes widened when she realized who it was.
Raynor spun around to face her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Enya! What’re you doing here?” The man wasn’t in his armor, dressed in a plain shirt and loose trousers that looked too thin for the chill. His brown hair was messy and mussed, strands sticking up in different directions.
She frowned. “I got back from training and felt restless.” She gave him a questioning look, the unspoken question obvious, and he scratched his head.
“Same thing. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d walk around a bit.”
“…because of the Rite?”
He smiled crookedly. “Guess it’s pretty obvious, huh?” He began pacing again, turning every few steps in a manner that made Enya feel dizzy. “I mean, I knew this was happening, and I’m ready for it, I really am, but I still feel kind of uneasy about it, you know?” he rambled.
She nodded slowly. “That’s understandable. It’s a difficult process.”
“Believe me, I know. Altair’s been telling me horror stories about failed Rites for the past two weeks. Won’t even say hi first, he just sees me and starts reciting them like it’s the weather.” He shook his head.
That sounded exactly like something Altair would do. Enya furrowed her brow, studying the man’s expression. His shoulders were tense, his entire body drawn in a taut line, but Enya’s focus was on his eyes. They were downcast, darting every which way. She frowned.
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“Is something else wrong?”
Raynor shifted his weight, gaze shifting to stare off to the side at the brick wall.
“You can tell me. I won’t judge.”
He frowned. After a few more moments of silence, where Enya remained unmoving, expectant, he finally sighed and his entire body deflated. “It’s just, do you think I’m a terrible brother?”
Enya blinked slowly. “What do you mean?”
“I just keep thinking about when our parents died, and what it was like afterwards. I know I’m not gonna live long. I’ve come to terms with that. But I can’t help but feel like I’m just gonna end up abandoning him.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s just a kid. I can’t leave him alone like that, but I’m probably going to end up doing it whether I want to or not.” He laughed hollowly. “I’m being selfish, I get it. If I was a good brother I’d stop trying to be a Paragon. But it’s hard to let go, you know?”
She did know. In Enya’s experience, people tended to cling onto things. Maybe it was a way to keep themselves steady, to find an anchor in a world that everyone knew was slowly falling apart. Maybe it was just human nature to be drawn to things and want to flutter closer, like moths drawn towards light. Pure instinct.
Maren had been that anchor for Enya. The day the woman had whisked her away from her ruined home, she’d become the shining beacon to run towards. Enya had wanted to become a Paragon to help people, too, but more than anything she’d just wanted to feel closer to that light. She imagined it was the same for Raynor, growing up with two Paragons as parents.
The difference was that Raynor’s parents had died while on duty, going out in blazes of glory befitting of the heroes in fables. A blaze that was brought back and recounted to their surviving children, where it could stoke those sparks into a brighter flame. Enya, meanwhile, had watched Maren fade until she was left with the undeniable truth that the lofty things she aspired towards were painfully real and tangible.
“Altair’s going with me to the Rite,” Raynor blurted out. His brow furrowed. “I don’t want to leave Callan alone at home, so he said to bring him too, but…” He shook his head. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”
“Tell me.”
His face twisted. “I don’t want him to see me weak.” He began pacing again. “I’m his brother, I’m supposed to look out for him. How am I suppose to do that if he sees me like that?” He turned and began pacing the other direction. “Theresa keeps getting called away to help other villages, and Nadine started taking later shifts and I don’t want to force her to take one off.”
Nadine was working later shifts? Enya frowned. She hadn’t realized. These days her sister was usually already in her room by the time she returned home from training. Enya fidgeted, shifting her weight.
“I could watch him tomorrow, when he gets back from school,” she offered.
His eyes widened. “You sure? You’ve been training, right?”
She nodded. “I have tomorrow off.”
Raynor’s shoulders slumped forward in relief. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.
“You should sleep,” she suggested. “You don’t want to tire yourself out before tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “I should, shouldn’t I.” He straightened, returning to his usual impeccable posture, but it did little to mask his visible haggardness. “Thank you, Enya. May the Second bless your dreams.” His expression was warm.
Enya smiled back, but it felt tight. “And yours as well.”
—
After Raynor left, waving in wide motions, Enya spent another few minutes strolling outside. She should return home soon, she knew, but the restlessness hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was more present than ever.
When she finally circled back to where she’d started from, Enya sighed and decided she’d delayed long enough. She made her way back to the house, unlocking and opening the door slowly in an effort to be as quiet as possible. The hinges still creaked, but they weren’t as loud as usual. Stepping inside, she shut the door as softly behind her.
It was dark in the house, as she’d expected. No lamps or candles had been lit, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the lack of moonlight. She blinked in surprise when she saw a figure waiting at the table. Even under the heavy shadows, Enya could make out what looked like dark circles sitting underneath Nadine’s eyes. She didn’t seem to be doing anything, simply sitting there in the darkness.
“Nadine?”
Her sister slowly turned her head at the sound of her voice and stared at her, eyes perfectly blank. Enya fought the instinctive urge to take a step back. She’d never been unable to read Nadine before, but she couldn’t make out anything in those dull eyes. That expression was utterly foreign to her.
Without a word, Nadine got up from her seat, the chair scraping against the wooden floor, and exited the room. She didn’t speak or glance back, giving no indication that she’d heard Enya. Her bedroom door slammed shut, and Enya winced. The sound seemed to reverberate in the dark, silent home.