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WITHIN

E mryn hadn’t had another truly in her head in years. Not since the Head Healer had looked at her conduits and pronounced them sound. And she supposed that she’d had Asan in her head once before. If he’d wanted to harm her, surely he would have done it already.

“Ah, I see now.” He looked at her conduits. “You made these.”

“People have conduits,” Emryn replied, stomping on the shame. “I. Should have guessed at that point that I wasn’t entirely human. But I was seven, and I just wanted to be like everyone else. I didn’t want to die.”

“Were you threatened?”

Emryn nodded. “The head wasn’t the head then, but he thought I was a danger and he forced his way into my head to make certain I wasn’t some sort of night monster.”

“I am going to open an investigation,” Asan said calmly. “If he did it to you, what else has he done to the children under his care?”

“I only know what was done to me,” Emryn said. “I wasn’t permitted to be among the other healers until I’d graduated to the intermediate cohort and had the breaks in my control trained out of me.”

“I understand the training,” Asan said. “The method used is abhorrent. He should have come to the college when you were discovered and we would have assisted.”

“Alright, so what do I need to do?” Emryn didn’t want to talk about it anymore, didn’t want to think about it. She needed to focus on anything else or she was going to start crying.

“First, we must locate the pinch point,” Asan said. “There is always a pinch point between the core and the conduits.” He stopped, looking at her. “What does it look like when your mind is as it’s supposed to be?”

Emryn sighed and raised a hand. The conduits dissolved into a bright flame that all fell back into the well where her power stemmed from. “Like that.”

“Fascinating.” Asan looked around, bowing to look into the well. “This may prove more difficult. If there is no core, then there is no pinch point. But the Guardian Bird is responsible for your power, so perhaps there is-”

“He refused to speak to me,” Emryn said quietly. “He said it wasn’t time yet but also refused to tell me when the time would come.”

“I am going to map this,” Asan said. “This may hurt, but please believe I intend no harm.”

Emryn nodded and watched Asan raise his arms. She felt his power flow into her mind and wondered what he was doing. And then there was a massive concussion, a sound that wasn’t a sound and a presence lifted its head above the well.

“I said not yet, Seeker.” The voice was enormous, but somehow not painful. “She must take all three before she will be strong enough to hold all of me.”

“Guardian,” Asan bowed, the power fading from Emryn’s mind. “Her wings-”

“She has only to think them gone.” The presence faded out as fast as it had come, leaving Emryn and Asan to stare at each other.

“I guess that’s an answer?” Emryn shrugged. “I don’t know what it means, but I can try.”

“I believe I understood.” Asan still looked gobsmacked. “But the Guardian’s meaning has facets and we will have to experiment.”

“Alright.” Emryn watched Asan fade back out of her mind and walked to the edge of her well. “Guardian?” She tossed the timid word into the whorl of flame. “Can you help?”

“Find your Three, my heart.” The presence rose again, presenting an avian head with a single eye like a sapphire made of fire. “Connect, and you will find them.”

The presence vanished again, back into the core of her fire, and Emryn closed her eyes and turned outward.

When she opened them, it was to Cas who had her cheeks cupped in both hands. “Emryn, are you alright?”

She nodded, raising one hand to touch his face. “I’m alright, I just need to figure this out.” She turned her head, still in Cas’ hands, and looked at Asan. “He called you Seeker.”

“He did,” Asan looked puzzled. “I am a seeker, Emryn, of many things, and chances are not high that I am one of the people you seek.”

“It doesn’t really matter at this exact moment.” She looked back to Cas. “We have a sort of answer, but the execution is up in the air.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He let her face go and wrapped her in his arms.

She buried her head in his shoulder. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know what the Guardian meant by what he said.”

“What did he say?”

“He said I have to think them gone,” Emryn replied. “But they’re heavy and hot, and I don’t think I can.”

“Can you think hunger away?” Asan asked, sounding odd. “Or thirst, or weariness?”

Emryn nodded. “Healers are trained to do that, to will away our needs to see to the people.”

“Then the premise is the same,” Asan said. “They are your fire, will them back to the well inside you.”

“I can try.” Emryn closed her eyes, moving to kneel on the floor and lay her hands on her knees.

She didn’t turn inward, these weren’t the needs of her body but a physical structure that she was supposed to somehow make vanish. But were they truly physical? When she’d torn them out as a child, they had always vanished in her hands into starlight in her hands.

So perhaps, despite being heavy, they were truly just manifestations of her power. And if that was true, she could do precisely what Asan had said.

She reached down into the place where the wings sat on her back, and looked at the connection. There was a thread there, just as there was in Cas, and it was past simple to disconnect the thread.

Or it should have been. The thread was an artery and in order to disconnect an artery and not allow the patient to bleed to death, a healer first had to shut the flow down.

She blocked it, stepping into the flow and directing it back to where it was coming from. Blocking the fire from flowing into the wings.

Severing the connection was simple after that.

And she felt her body lighten.

Emryn opened her eyes in time to see the last wisps of starlight float past her head.