When Kei walked down the stairs, Jolaine was sitting at the table, painting red lines onto an Ein’al mask.

  “Good morning Eldress,” Kei bowed.

  Jolaine looked up from her work and smiled. “Corrin loses today, congratulations. There’s porridge on the stove there if you’d like some. It should still be hot.”

  “Thank you,” Kei got herself a bowl and sat at the table to eat. She didn’t say much, and neither did Jolaine, who was content to focus on the mask in front of her. The silence didn’t feel awkward though. It was something like an old habit they shared.

  As she ate, Kei watched the older woman work. Each stroke of the brush was careful, and measured. The brush dipped into the stone bowl of red paint, wicking it up without spilling a drop, before running along the smooth white wood of the mask, leaving a trail of vivid red in its wake.

  There was something soothing about it, and Kei found herself entranced.

  Eventually, Jolaine set down the brush, turning the mask over in her hands. She grunted, seemingly happy with what she saw, and then set the mask into a bucket beside the table, already filled with dozens more.

  “Your porridge is cold, dear.”

  Kei started, looking down at her half eaten bowl. In embarrassment, she began to shovel it into her mouth, but then paused, even more embarrassed at her sudden lack of etiquette.

  Jolaine just raised an eyebrow. “Eat eat, you could use the extra weight. You’re too skinny!”

  Kei stifled a laugh at that, but bowed her head and began to eat once more—albeit at a slightly slower pace.

  “We haven’t talked much, you and I,” Jolaine mused. “I feel as though I hardly know anything about you.”

  Kei swallowed. “There’s not much to say Eldress. I’m afraid I’ve lived a rather boring life until the last year.”

  The older woman eyed her thoughtfully. “I wonder about that, Miss ‘merchant’s daughter’. You’re from Taravast aren’t you? Isn’t it supposed to be a wonderful city?”

  Kei thought of her experience with Taravast itself. She’d explored the city very little, and only ever on chaperoned trips. For all he spoke of her freedom, her brother insisted that Taravast could be dangerous for Nladians, and she’d seen it with her own eyes as well. She wondered how much of the city she’d really seen, and how much of it she’d been sheltered from.

  In the end, she just shrugged. “I suppose it’s home. Titan’s Pass seems a more interesting city to me.”

  “Is that so? I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. Your two companions on the other hand seem unable to still their eyes.”

  Kei chuckled.

  Jolaine folded her hands on the table, leaning forward. “Kei, if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do all day?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You see it’s just, at dinner, Corrin and Wyn talk endlessly of their days—training, cooking, their travels—but I’ve rarely heard from you.”

  Kei blushed. “I suppose I… find things to do? Yesterday I read in your study for some time, I spoke with Lilian, and then I walked the streets until sundown. Oh I stopped at a…”

  She trailed off as she saw Jolaine’s face. Her host was looking at her with a disgusted expression, one dripping with disappointment.

  “You’re too young to have so little ambition.”

  Kei turned away. “I am just relaxing, is that so wrong?”

  “So I assume you were working quite hard on the grass sea then?”

  “Well… not exactly.” Kei looked away.

  Jolaine clicked her tongue. “A simple life is not a bad one, but only if you actually desire it. Is that what you desire?”

  Kei didn’t know how to answer that. Previously, she wouldn’t have minded such a question. Her own desires weren’t important, she simply needed to walk behind her brother, and everything would be alright—that was what she wanted wasn’t it?

  “Huh.”

  No… something about that bothers me. Why does it bother me? I was content before, wasn’t I?

  She frowned.

  “I’m… not sure.” She admitted.

  Jolaine blinked. “You’re not sure?”

  “You didn’t need to repeat it,” Kei muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed.

  She thought, not for the first time, about returning home. But where the thoughts usually ended there, she pushed further. She would go back to being safe, being protected by the family. She would converse with her brother, and remain within the walls of the estate save for her chaperoned trips into the city.

  Oh. Kings.

  Wait wait wait. She thought. I’ll be able to see Corrin and Wyn—no they’ll be busy with schooling won’t they? Well perhaps I can—no. Or if I—no that’s ridiculous!

  Kei came to a startling, and suddenly horrifying realization. The two boys had started to rub off on her, or perhaps it was the trip itself. Back in Taravast—

  I have no life.

  She dropped her spoon and it plopped into the remnants of her porridge, its wooden handle clattering against the bowl.

  After a moment, Jolaine stood up, picking up the basket of masks and heading towards the door.

  “Well come on then, you’re helping me today.”

  Kei slowly looked over. “What?”

  “You’re going to help me sell masks, a pretty young girl like you should do great. I’ll even teach you how to carve them if you want.” She waved Kei over impatiently. “Come, come.”

  Kei got up, walking hesitantly towards the door.

  “Eldress, may I ask why?”

  Jolaine pulled on a coat and boots, gesturing for Kei to do the same. “You may, but I do not intend to answer until we are out the door.”

  She moved quickly for an old woman, and Kei struggled to keep up. “Hang on!” For some reason, she found herself wanting to follow the older woman. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe she just wanted to do something after her realization.

  The door closed as Jolaine walked out, and Kei scrambled to pull on her boots, nearly tripping as she threw the door open a minute later and whipped her head around, looking for Jolaine’s back down the street.

  But Jolaine wasn’t down the street. She was standing just outside, arms crossed and with a satisfied smirk on her face.

  “Mmm, better. But do not be so panicked! Fiery, yes. Vigorous, yes! That is what youth should be. But not panicked, never panicked.” She gestured to the cart. “Now, you can pull that.”

  Kei looked at the hand cart. She sighed, then positioned herself between the shafts and hefted it up. She gasped. “Heavy!”

  Jolaine nodded. “Think of it as motivation—the more we sell, the lighter it will be when we return.”

  As Kei followed, wheeling the cart through the streets, Jolaine talked.

  “You asked why I insisted you help,” she started. “There is a word, Jiheng. Have you heard of it before?”

  Kei tried to speak, but her voice caught under the weight, coming out as a weak gasp instead. So she just shook her head.

  “It is a word from the language of the spirits, or so my grandmother used to say. It means ‘purposeful life.’ When I was a girl, she would always tell me that Jiheng was the key to happiness.”

  Kei had heard of scams like that before.

  “Jiheng is composed of four stages. The first is Yejing, or awareness. To achieve Yejing, you must have a goal, or even simply a direction, a desire. This is what you currently lack, you are a traveler with no map.”

  “And…” Kei wheezed. “The others?”

  Jolaine scoffed. “A child does not learn to run before it can walk.”

  “So—you think I lack desire, is that it?”

  “You certainly haven’t convinced me otherwise. But don’t worry dear, it is not such a bad thing. You’re still young—there are countless, forking paths out in front of you, like the branches of a tree. For someone like you, who has yet to decide on a path, there is something you must do.”

  Blessedly, the hill levelled out, and Kei was able to breath as the cart rolled easier behind her.

  “And what might that be?”

  The old woman grinned. “You should seek new experiences. New people, new places. Walk ten steps down a thousand paths, until you find one that you could walk for the rest of your life.”

  Kei thought about Jolaine’s words as they walked through the city, until they reached an open plaza with a fountain in the center, still running despite the cold.

  “Right here,” Jolaine said, showing Kei where to drop the cart, just behind a small wooden stall. She began to unload some of the masks, hanging them on hooks and placing some on the counter.

  “What do you want me to do?” Kei shuffled on her feet awkwardly.

  “The most important thing for me was getting you out of the house,” Jolaine shrugged. “If you’d like, you can simply look pretty and wait until a customer arrives. I don’t usually sell too many each day, so there’s a lot of downtime.”

  Kei looked at the sky. Jolaine didn’t start as early as Wyn did, but they’d still be there for hours before the sun began to set. Her eyes slid back down, meeting the old woman’s.

  Jolaine was looking at her expectantly, as though she was waiting for an answer.

  New experiences.

  “Could you…show me how you carve the masks?”

  Jolaine smiled, like it was the answer she’d wanted. “Now there’s a great idea. To start, I’ll show you how to hold the knife…”

  As Kei learned the basics of carving, the day passed surprisingly quickly. When lunchtime rolled around, Jolaine sent her off to find food on her own, letting Kei explore some more of the city.

  She returned eventually with two warm pastries, one of which she handed to Jolaine.

  “Trying to butter me up are you?” Jolaine arched an eyebrow. “Not bad, not bad.”

  Kei smiled a little and sat on the edge of the cart, watching people filter through the plaza. There was a quiet energy to it—a pulse to the market that she hadn’t noticed before, and as she worked on her own mask amidst the buzzing crowds, she found herself enjoying it.

  As the afternoon deepened, they did sell a few. An older gentleman buying one with sweeping golden lines for his wife; a child picking one, as it was the winter of his tenth year, which Kei learned was when children moved from smaller, child-like masks to the more traditional type that Jolaine sold. Some of the other vendors came over and chatted with Jolaine from time to time, having seemingly known her for decades.

  And yes, Kei noticed some of the passersby giving her looks—though it seemed the resentment was less in Titan’s Pass. Still, she didn’t shy away as she once had.

  “You did well today,” Jolaine said, once the sun had begun to dip low.

  Kei looked down at the half-carved mask she’d been working on between customers. It was rough, uneven in places, but she could see the shape taking form. It wasn’t beautiful, by any stretch of the word. But it was hers. Slowly, she traced a numb finger along the edges she’d smoothed out.

  “I want to try again tomorrow,” she said. “I think I can do better.”

  Jolaine’s smile was small, but warm. “Then we’ll carve again. But I’m warning you—I expect improvement.”

  Kei grinned. “Yes, Eldress.”

  They packed up slowly, and Kei found herself humming a tune as they walked. The cart didn’t feel quite so heavy on the walk back, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the masks they’d sold, or something else entirely.

  She still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, or who she really wanted to be. But what better time to discover it than on a journey?

  Surely, if she just worked hard, then little by little, cut by cut, she could carve something out for herself too.

  ***

  Wyn popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as Corrin finished speaking.

  “I’m just saying,” Corrin continued, his sandwich only half finished. “Once you finish developing your channels and we learn some techniques, we should come up with some combo moves.” He pounded a fist into his palm.

  Wyn swallowed. “If and when that happens, I’m down to give it a try. But we’ve still got a long way to go, and what would that even look like?”

  Corrin waved his hand. “No idea, but Tor—” he spit. “—Could do all sorts of stuff with mana. So what if I could like, swing the ash mana off my sword. Then you did the same thing with your aura, but at the same time, and they crossed and hit at the same time. Wouldn’t that be cool? We could call it… Sky Splitter!”

  Wyn looked at his friend. “What?”

  Corrin furrowed his brow. “Yeah the name needs work. Hmm what about Cross Slice? No that’s not right either…”

  “How about we just focus on the basics for now, yeah?” Wyn suggested. “Also, I hear we’ll need to get our math skills up for the entrance exam.”

  Corrin’s face fell. “Math skill? What do you mean? It’s a spirit knight academy! Who needs math?”

  “Yeah, the key word is academy dumbass. Though honestly, that’s just what Nereus—” he spit. “—told me.”

  “Shit!” Corrin’s eyes widened. “I’m screwed then!”

  “Don’t worry, Kei’s a merchant right? I bet she could teach us.”

  “Hey, that's not a bad idea. Let’s ask her tonight.”

  “Speaking of,” Wyn hopped off the stool. “I’ve got to get going. And you’re meeting your new master right?”

  “Yep, I’ve got to pester some more lessons out of him.” Corrin grinned diabolically.

  Wyn shook his head. “That poor man…”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Oh it’s fine, he likes it. I didn’t show up the other day and he was all grumpy the day after.”

  “Well, carry on then.” Wyn held out a fist, smiling.

  Corrin bumped it, mimicking an explosion. “See you later.”

  “Later,” Wyn gave a half wave, and walked off into the streets.

  A little bit after that, he arrived at his next stop.

  The door creaked as Wyn stepped inside, a gust of cool air following in. Warmth, and the faint scent of crushed herbs greeted him—lavender, chamomile, and something bitter lingering just beneath.

  Lutz, the apothecary, stood behind the counter, hunched over a clay bowl, the pestle in his hand moving in slow, deliberate circles. He looked up with no surprise, his spectacles catching the lamplight. Lutz was a fairly handsome man, with brown hair just showing streaks of gray, tied back neatly with a leather cord.

  “Good afternoon Wyn.”

  “Afternoon, Master Lutz,” Wyn replied, stepping between two dangling bundles of chamomile and thistlebrush. Lutz liked being referred to as ‘master’, something Wyn had learned quickly, and it cost him nothing to do so.

  “You’re early today,” he noted as he grabbed a small vial from the shelf behind him and bundled it with practiced hands.

  Wyn nodded. “I have something else to finish today, so I figured I’d stop by early. This will probably be the time from now on.”

  The apothecary glanced up for a moment, his hands slowing to a crawl. Then he looked back down and continued again.

  “It’s kind of you to do this, you know?”

  “I’m just being a good guest,” Wyn bowed humbly. “Eldress Jolaine isn’t charging us rent, so this is really the least I can do.”

  Lutz nodded. “And how is Lilian?”

  Wyn paused a moment before answering. “Not much different from when I got here I suppose. I haven’t known them for long enough to speak on it though.”

  Lutz’s expression grew clouded for a moment, but it soon passed, and he set the bundle on the counter.

  “Just the usual fee.”

  Wyn set the coins Jolaine had given him on the counter, then tucked the package gently into his satchel. The tincture inside was warm, and he could feel the faint heat radiating from the cloth wrapped around it.

  “And of course…” Lutz placed a sheet of paper on the counter. From what Wyn understood, it was a record of transaction, as was required on any purchase in the city on a single item over the amount of one silver.

  Wyn held his seal to the paper, and both began to glow a familiar gold before fading out again.

  “As always, Jolaine thanks you,” Wyn said.

  The apothecary smiled, shuffling the paper back under the counter. “She set me up with my wife, the least I can do is give her the discounted rate.”

  “But not free?” Wyn smirked.

  “I’m selling it for a whole silver at a discount. Do you think this stuff is cheap to make?” Lutz shook his head.

  “Yeah yeah, I get it.” Wyn smiled good-naturedly. Business was business after all, and from what he understood, a single silver a day was a fair price—though it was still incredibly steep. Thankfully, Jolaine didn’t seem to be hurting for funds.

  He lingered for a bit longer, glancing at one shelf in particular behind the counter, grated with iron bars.

  “Still interested in poisons eh?” Lutz asked. “You’re a strange boy, did you know that?”

  Wyn shrugged, then pointed to one he hadn’t seen before, a large glass jar filled with a liquid bluer than the sky itself.

  “What’s that one? Is it new?”

  Lutz saw his gaze. “Ah, Skyfall. Nasty stuff—turns your skin blue before killing you.”

  “Why do you even sell them?” Wyn asked. He’d been wondering for a few days now.

  “They have their uses, especially if used in moderation,” the apothecary explained. “Hunters will sometimes tip their arrows with poisons to take down larger game and spirit beasts. And even in medicine, many of the antidotes I have are derived from poisons, or are poisonous in high quantities.”

  He pulled out a small ceramic jar and opened the top, revealing a white salve. He pointed to a glass jar in the cage, filled with a similarly white powder. “Distilling calomel into this salve, for example, creates an effective antiseptic.”

  Wyn eyed the salve thoughtfully, before moving his eyes back to the blue liquid. “And Skyfall?”

  The apothecary scratched his head. “That one’s a little different. It doesn’t take much to kill, but in small enough doses it’s safe, and some noblemen like to drink the stuff—I only wish I could have such a carefree life. I don’t have any regulars, but it looks pretty on the shelf, so I’ll put it up now and again.”

  “Is that so?” Wyn leaned over the counter. “What’s it taste like?”

  “Damned if I know, I have no interest in the stuff.”

  Wyn couldn’t help it, he was curious. “Could I try some?”

  Lutz studied him for a moment, long enough for the silence to mean something. Finally he mumbled. “First the medicine, now this. What is it with you? I strongly advise against this.”

  “Just a sip?” Wyn dropped a handful of coins onto the counter.

  Lutz sighed, looking at Wyn’s stubborn eyes. “Just a sip.”

  He walked into the back of the shop and returned with a key, unlocking the grated door and pulling the jar out. He unstopped the top and poured it into a tiny vial.

  “That should be a safe amount, but I just want to reiterate, I recommend you not do this.”

  Wyn smiled and downed the vial in a single gulp. It bloomed in his mouth with a sudden cold, like he’d scooped snow onto his tongue. His eyes widened as he caught the flavor beneath the cold—sweet, but not too sweet, just right, and as the cold slowly melted away, the mint-like sweetness faded to a lingering bitterness that he quite enjoyed, much like unsweetened tea, or dark chocolate.

  As it traveled down his throat, he felt the spirit fire within him instinctively brighten just a tad, burning the poison from his body. But the taste remained. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever tasted, but it was a unique experience he’d never had before.

  He hummed happily. “That’s pretty good. How much for the whole jar?”

  Lutz blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “I was just wondering how much it would cost for the whole jar,” Wyn repeated.

  “Um… well, it’s not exactly expensive since demand is so low,” Lutz stammered. “But it’s not cheap either. The whole jar would likely be about five silver.”

  Wyn clicked his tongue. “Well you’re lucky Master Lutz. I’m not going to poison myself today…”

  The apothecary let out a sigh of relief.

  “...but I’ll be back, I’m going to come into some more money soon. Might as well work extra hard right?”

  Lutz laughed awkwardly, like he hoped Wyn was joking.

  Which he kind of was, but who knew?

  Wyn smiled at the apothecary as though he’d said nothing out of the ordinary. “Have a good day Master Lutz, and thank you as always. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  He turned around before he could see Lutz’s face, and walked between the hanging herbs once more as he stepped back into the cold, the warmth of the vial in his satchel no doubt already fading.

  And slowly, his smile faded.

  ***

  Wyn finally stepped back into the warmth of Jolaine’s home, dropping his fur-lined hood as he closed the door behind him, leaving him in near silence, the only sounds the crackling fire, and the stew which sat atop it. It wasn’t yet evening—Jolaine would still be out selling masks, Corrin would be doing his own training out in the cold, and Kei would be doing… well, something. She got out more than in Estin, but he still wasn’t quite sure what she did.

  No, there was only one person in the home stuck indoors.

  Leaving his coat and shoes by the door, he walked past the dinner table and into the small hallway which held the other two bedrooms. He stopped at the end of the hallway, facing the door to a bedroom.

  Wyn knocked.

  "Miss Lilian?"

  He waited, but no response came right away.

  Could she be asleep?

  Finally though, Lilian’s hoarse voice slipped through the cracks. “Come in.”

  Wyn reached for the brass handle, his hand trembling as he gripped it and twisted, opening the door slowly. He found himself hesitating, nervous to step into the room. It was a cruel thing he planned to do, and entirely selfish, but he told himself, it was better than the alternative.

  With that thought driving him forward, he pushed into the bedroom. The room was smaller even than his and Corrin’s, but it was well-kept, with a large purple rug stretched out across the floor. From the ceiling hung countless tiny crystals, suspended by strings. But for that, the room was sparse, only containing a bed and nightstand which sat next to a window looking into the courtyard adjacent to the home.

  Lilian was sitting on the edge of the bed, long brown hair cascading down past her gaunt shoulders, appearing even darker against her pale skin. She had a mask in her hand, like the kind Jolaine made, and she was whittling away at it with a small knife.

  She paused as Wyn entered, and her tired eyes pinched closed as she smiled.

  “You can carve masks as well?” He asked.

  Lilian opened her eyes, setting the knife on the nightstand and turning the mask over in her hands. “Of course. My grandmother taught me when I was just a girl. Before I—well, I was going to take over for her when I got older. Such has been the tradition in our family for generations. I used to help her every season, hauling that cart down to the market, carving masks until well after sundown…”

  “I see, then you got sick?”

  She laughed quietly. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

  Wyn stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say.

  Lilian turned to face him, setting the mask down as well.

  “Do you like the snow, Wyn?”

  Wyn was surprised by the question, seemingly out of nowhere, but it wasn’t like it was a hard one to answer. “Well, I suppose I do. Winter isn’t my favorite season by any means, but there’s a certain beauty to it.”

  “There is, isn’t there?” Lilian nodded. “Though, I think that its beauty is contradictory, don’t you?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t exactly understand what you mean.”

  “Think of the stillness after a snowfall—the world hushed under a blanket of white. It is stillness itself that is beautiful. It is the beauty of the eternal. Yet at the same time, there is beauty in the smallest of snowflakes. You cannot appreciate them as they fall. Only when they land on your hand can you truly recognize the beauty they hold, but if you catch them in your hand, they’ll melt away. The beauty of the ephemeral.”

  “The ephemeral and the eternal,” Wyn said. “Two opposing concepts. I see.”

  “And yet, both are beautiful are they not?”

  “They are.”

  Lilian looked out the window, her voice soft. “And if you had to choose one, which would you prefer?”

  “I—” Wyn’s eyes drifted slowly upwards. “I guess I’d have to say I prefer the stillness after snowfall.”

  “As do I,” Lilian smiled. “But then, it can never last forever, can it? Spring comes, winter fades, and eventually, the snow all melts away. By summer, it will be as though it was never there at all. In the end, it was just as fleeting as the snowflake.”

  Wyn tried to think of a rebuttal, but any such thing died in his throat. “I suppose so.”

  Lilian looked back at him, meeting his eyes. “My grandmother says you think you may be able to help with my illness?”

  “I have—I have a blessing,” Wyn said weakly. “I’m not sure if it will work, but I’m willing to try.”

  She nodded.

  “First things first, I brought this for you.” He held out the vial he’d received from the apothecary.

  She took it, looking at the thick brown syrup within. “This stuff tastes terrible, did you know that?”

  “Actually, yes. I got curious the other day and asked him to let me try a drop.”

  Lilian looked at him, surprised. She started to laugh, only for it to devolve into a coughing fit that rattled on and on. As she caught her breath, gasping for air, she glanced up at him and smirked weakly.

  “I’m blaming you for that.”

  Wyn smiled. “I’ll try to keep my humor to a minimum.”

  After choking down the mixture with a small glass of water, she set the empty vial on the nightstand. “It only prolongs it you know? There is no cure for weak lungs. My mother used to drink the same syrup every morning. Once, I was the one fetching it for her.”

  “How… How long did she live?” Wyn asked.

  “She only saw thirty two springs, though she didn’t show symptoms until later than me. If she is any indication, I may only have two or three years left, not that they’ll be any better than the ones I have now. Towards the end, she couldn’t leave bed at all, and even eating was a struggle. If that’s all that is left for me, I wonder, why do I bother with the medicine? Is there any reason to continue living?”

  Wyn felt something sink deep within his chest. How was he supposed to respond to that? What was there to even say?

  She seemed to notice his expression and her face fell in concern. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dampen things. They were idle thoughts, that is all.”

  Get it together Wyn, he thought. Why is she the one comforting you?

  He forced a smile. “It’s fine. I truly do think my blessing can help you, but I’m afraid it’s still somewhat new to me. I’m not sure if I can use it well enough.”

  “Do you need anything from me?”

  “Give me your hands,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. She placed the backs of her fingers against his palms, and he gripped them gently with his thumbs. She was almost ten years older than he was, but her hands were so much smaller than his own.

  When Wyn stoked his spirit fire, she gasped.

  “Your eyes.”

  “Just a side effect of my blessing,” he looked down at her hands, but he could still feel her gaze on his eyes.

  Within him, spirit fire burned steadily, flickering against the inner edges of his soul.

  Are you sure you can’t do this Eia?

  It’s not that I think I’m incapable, she thought back. But us pure spirits are kind of… already linked a little bit, so I can cheat with them. Physical beings are different too, your souls are more bound than ours are. I’ll try with you, but I think you’ll have an easier time than I will.

  Please do.

  Focus Wyn. You were able to form a bond with your sword, remember? Start there.

  Wyn closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Lilian’s hand in his own. It was so easy with the wooden blade—he simply willed the spirit fire up its length, and it obeyed. But since leaving Estin, his senses had gotten better. There was a difference between the forming of the bond, and the ignition of the sword.

  He reached for her with that power, relying on feeling to guide him. And like with the sword, he felt it stir. Wyn lost himself in the world of his soul.

  Spirit fire bloomed in his chest, spreading out into his limbs, into his fingers, and into the edges of his soul. It was not bound, as aura was, and he felt it press against something else, just as it did with a sword. As it latched on, he ignited it, letting spirit fire flow through.

  A scream broke his concentration and his eyes shot open to see Lilian had burst into flame.

  Shit!

  She yanked her hands back and pushed herself against the wall, still screaming. She needn’t have bothered though, as soon as she broke contact, the connection was severed, and the flames died out.

  As screams turned into yet another coughing fit, Wyn panicked, trying to see if she’d somehow been burnt.

  “I’m so sorry!” he stammered. “I didn’t actually think it would work right away, and I didn’t think—”

  “It’s—” Lilian gasped for air, choking back another cough. “It’s fine—I’m fine.”

  After a few minutes, she’d calmed enough to speak more.

  “I’m not hurt at all,” she said softly as Wyn pressed his forehead into the bed. “Really, it just startled me. Was that supposed to happen?”

  “I… I think?” Wyn said. “But it won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  She held out her hands, something shining in her eyes. “Then please, try again.”

  Are we sure this is safe Eia? he checked.

  Absolutely. Her response was oddly confident. But Wyn, I’m not sure if that was what we wanted.

  Wyn’s brow furrowed as he took Lilian’s hands. What do you mean?

  Form it again.

  Lavender flames erupted, casting ethereal dancing shadows on the wall behind where Lilian sat. This time, she only gasped as the fire swirled around her.

  “It’s beautiful…” she said, her eyes wide.

  Do you feel that Wyn? Eia asked. It’s not actually doing anything. It’s all outside her.

  “Miss Lilian, do you feel any different? Anything at all?”

  She refocused, and her face fell. “No… I’m afraid not.”

  The flames haven’t reached her soul. It’s no different than the sword.

  Wyn closed his eyes once again, trying to feel the end of the bond. Sure enough, Eia was right.

  He tried again and again—pushing harder, reaching further—but no matter what he did, the flames were never more than surface deep.

  By the time they finished, the sun was on its way down. Soon, the rest of the house would be returning.

  “I think we should stop for now,” he said reluctantly, letting the flames die around her. “I’m out of ideas for today.”

  Lilian didn’t say anything, and they sat in silence as the last flickers of spirit fire faded into the shadows. The room was dim now, the remnants of the sun trickling in through the window.

  Lilian’s hands remained in his, pale fingers trembling faintly in his. The silence was heavy.

  Then, with a small breath, she gave him a faint smile.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That it didn’t work.”

  Wyn blinked. “It’s not your fault. I’ll try again. I just need time to understand it better, that’s all.”

  She nodded once. “Of course.”

  Something in her tone made Wyn pause. It was too even. Her eyes hadn’t left his hands. And her smile looked fragile, like it was held together by threads, ready to snap.

  She started to pull her hands away.

  He didn’t stop her, but his grip lingered just a moment longer than expected. She hesitated, then let them rest again.

  “You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked. He couldn’t help it.

  “I’m fine.” Her words came too quickly. Then, softer, “I’m just tired.”

  Wyn nodded slowly, eyes drifting towards the window. It was snowing again, just a little—flakes landing and melting against the glass. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I know… I know we haven’t known each other for long,” he continued carefully. “So if you don’t want to talk, I won’t press. It’s just… I can tell something’s bothering you.”

  Her fingers tensed slightly in his. She opened her mouth, like she was about to speak, but the words didn’t come. She looked away instead, blinking quickly as her expression flickered between a thousand different emotions all at once.

  Wyn didn’t say anything, he just kept holding her hands.

  Finally, she spoke. “When I first got sick, I knew right then that I wasn’t going to live. It happened to my mother, and it was happening to me. That’s supposed to make it easier, right? I told myself that since I knew it was going to happen, then I could accept it.”

  She gave a bitter little laugh.

  “So when I heard about your blessing—I thought it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t work. I told myself I was just humoring you. But when I saw those flames… for just a second, I thought…” her voice was shaking. “I thought maybe it could really change something.”

  She covered her mouth with one hand, the other still curled loosely in his.

  “Isn’t that stupid? I didn’t want to hope. But I did. I didn’t want to want anything. But I do, and I hate it. What am I supposed to do with that?”

  She pressed the heel of her palm against her eye as tears welled up within them.

  “I’m such a liar,” her voice cracked. “I said I didn’t care. But I still took that damn medicine every day. I still practiced my carving. I still wanted to look good when we had company over…”

  Wyn felt his throat clench.

  Lilian’s fingers tightened around his hand.

  “I don’t want to die.”

  The silence wrapped around the words like a blanket of snow. She sat still, trembling, her breath catching in her throat. Then the tears began to fall. She tried to speak through them, shaking her head as though she could still will the thoughts away, but they tumbled out anyway, raw and unfiltered.

  “I want to run again. Through the streets, through the woods, I don’t care where. I want to feel the wind on my face and not be out of breath after ten steps. I want to breathe without thinking about it!”

  She blinked rapidly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, but the tears just kept coming.

  “I want to swim in the river again—spirits, I miss swimming. I used to dive for rocks with my friends and pretend they were treasure. I want to feel cold water and laugh about it. I want to fall asleep under the sun and wake up sunburned and annoyed.”

  She pressed her fists to her mouth, but her voice kept rising.

  “I want to meet people. I want to fall in love, maybe. Or mess it up completely. I want to eat something I’ve never tried before. I want to fail at things that don’t matter.”

  Her breath hitched again. “I want to stay up late. I want to dance, even if I look stupid doing it. I want to sit in the market and listen to old women gossip. I want to cry over something dumb. Not this. Not this every day.”

  She looked at Wyn then, eyes red, cheeks wet, breathing heavy.

  “I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I want all of it. The stupid parts, the boring parts, the fun parts, the sad parts. And I’m afraid, Wyn, because I can’t help it. I want to live.”

  The last words barely escaped her lips before the sobbing took her. She leaned forward, and Wyn caught her without thinking—letting her curl in, small and shaking.

  For the second time, Wyn felt a weight settle in his chest. But this burden, he accepted gladly. His mouth opened, but for a moment he was speechless, unsure if he had the strength to say the words. But he forced them out, whispering an oath, both to her, and himself.

  “I promise you, Lilian. I’ll figure this out. You are not going to die.”

  Outside, the wind whispered through the courtyard, and the snow kept falling, steady and soft.

  Break on Wednesday