Page 22 of Duskbound (Esprithean Trilogy #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The half-dead trees creaked in the wind, their brittle branches casting strange shadows in the firelight. We sat in a small clearing just beyond the mountain's entrance, where twisted roots broke through gray earth.

"You both understand this little excursion isn't something we can advertise to the other candidates," Effie said, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her uniform. "We're not exactly supposed to show favoritism during trials."

Rethlyn had all but dragged us out here, explaining that he had already set up a small celebration. A fire pit ringed with stones, weathered logs arranged in a circle, and promises of his rice wine—which he swore would “put hair on our chests.”

"Or fraternize with potential recruits at all," Vexa added, pulling Effie closer against her side. "Though after that performance today, I'd say some celebration is warranted."

"Rules like that seem pretty stupid considering everything that's happening," Rethlyn said, producing a clay bottle from his leather bag. "Besides, I've been brewing this for months. Seems like the perfect occasion to finally try it. "

"The last time you said that three Sentinels ended up in the medical wing." Vexa eyed the bottle suspiciously. "Didn't one of them temporarily lose their eyesight?"

"That was a different batch," Rethlyn said dismissively. "And they could still see shadows."

"Oh, well in that case," Effie rolled her eyes, "totally safe."

"I've perfected the recipe," Rethlyn insisted, already uncorking the bottle. A smell like burnt metal and overripe fruit filled the air. "Mostly perfected it."

"If I die from this," Vexa reached for the bottle anyway, "I'm coming back to haunt you."

"That's fair." Rethlyn grinned. "Though technically, you'd have to get in line behind the others."

I shifted on the log I shared with Lael, still unsure how to act in such a casual setting with people I'd considered enemies mere weeks ago. But Lael's presence helped ground me—his excitement about the day's events provided a welcome buffer.

"I still can't believe how you controlled that wolf," Vexa said to Lael. "Even Urkin looked impressed, and that's practically impossible."

"Not as impressive as making six Sentinels turn on each other." Lael grinned, nudging my arm. "I thought General Taliora was going to fall out of her chair."

The memory sent a thrill through me. Six minds—more than I'd ever imagined. I could still feel the echo of their consciousness against mine, the way they'd yielded to my will. The look on Urkin's face had been particularly satisfying. That scowl had cracked into something closer to shock when his Sentinels turned their weapons on each other. Even now, hours later, the memory of his barely contained outrage brought a smile to my lips. I only hoped it made a difference.

"Do you think it was enough?" I asked, voicing the worry that had been gnawing at me since the demonstration. "To make up for yesterday's combat trial?"

"Based on Karis' face alone?" Vexa leaned forward, firelight dancing across her piercings. "I'd say you more than made up for it."

"The only one who looked like he'd swallowed something sour was Urkin," Effie added, accepting the clay bottle from Vexa. "But he always looks like that, so I wouldn't worry."

Vexa turned toward the quietest member of our group. "What do you think, Aether? You've been awfully silent about the whole thing."

"She did well," he said simply, his voice carrying that familiar weight that made even simple praise feel significant.

I couldn't help but study him across the flames. It was fascinating how different he seemed here—calm, collected, almost peaceful—compared to the coiled intensity he carried when we were alone.

"What about the Void?" Lael asked suddenly, his voice pitched with curiosity. "I mean, if we make it through the trials, that's next."

The casual atmosphere shifted, something heavier settling over our group. Effie was the first to break the silence.

"I remember it being... intense," she said, “but the actual details are... fuzzy."

Rethlyn nodded, absently touching his void marks. "Same here. I know I went in, and I know I crawled out, but everything between is just..."

"Like trying to remember a nightmare," Vexa interrupted, her hand finding Effie's. "You know it happened, but the specifics slip away."

An awkward silence fell as everyone's eyes shifted to Aether. He didn't flinch under their gazes, just continued staring into the fire, the embers reflecting in his golden eyes .

"What was it like for you?" Lael asked Aether directly, either too naive or too brave to read the tension. "In the Void?"

The silence stretched, broken only by the crack and pop of burning wood. When Aether finally spoke, his voice was low and measured.

"The Void tests you in ways unimaginable," he said, his eyes never leaving the flames. "It shows you things—makes you see, feel, experience whatever it takes to break you. The key to surviving isn't strength or skill. It's endurance."

His words seemed to drop like stones into still water, rippling through our small gathering.

"What it really wants," he continued, "is for you to lose yourself. To become so twisted in its darkness that you never find your way out. You have to show it you won't succumb."

Lael had gone very still beside me, his earlier excitement replaced by something closer to dread. Aether finally looked up from the fire, his expression softening slightly as he met the boy's gaze.

"It's late," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. "You should rest. Tomorrow's journey won't wait for tired recruits."

"But—" Lael protested, looking around the group. "We just got here. And I wanted to try Rethlyn's rice wine?—"

"Which you're too young for anyway," Aether cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. He moved around the fire and placed a firm hand on Lael's shoulder. "Come on."

Lael shot me a pleading look, but I just shrugged sympathetically. Even I knew better than to argue with Aether when he used that tone. The boy finally stood with a dramatic sigh that reminded me of Effie.

"Fine," he grumbled, dragging his feet as Aether guided him toward the mountain entrance. I watched them disappear into the depths .

"Well," Effie broke the lingering tension, "that was cheerful. Speaking of more pleasant things—" She turned to me with renewed brightness. "What's it like where you're from? I mean, besides the obvious trying-to-kill-us part."

The question caught me off guard, though I should have expected it. These moments of almost-friendship made it easy to forget how things used to be.

"Esprithe, tell me about the food," Effie moaned, leaning forward and handing me the bottle of wine, which I reluctantly accepted. "I miss real food. Do you know how long it's been since I've smelled anything fresh? Like those spiced meat pastries from the street vendors?" She closed her eyes as if trying to conjure the memory. "The ones wrapped in those flaky shells that steam when you break them open? Or proper blackfruit preserves that actually taste sweet instead of..." she gestured vaguely at nothing, "whatever we're pretending to eat these days."

The rice wine burned in my throat as I swallowed. Every word from Effie felt sharp—not meant to hurt, but cutting all the same. How exactly was I supposed to talk to these people about Sídhe? The abundance there? Especially now knowing where it had come from, and what it had cost. It felt cruel.

"The market in Ravenfell used to smell amazing," Vexa added, her voice wistful. "Before the drought. Remember those roasted mushrooms, Reth? We used to stuff ourselves."

I caught Rethlyn watching me, his expression sympathetic. He must have sensed my discomfort—probably literally, given his abilities.

"What about your family?" he asked, clearly trying to change the subject. "Back in Sídhe?"

Relief washed over me at the shift in conversation, though it was quickly replaced by a different kind of ache. "I lost my parents when I was very young." I traced the rim of the bottle with my finger. "But I have someone—a friend I grew up with. She's basically my sister. She's the person I miss most."

"So," Effie piped up, her eyes sparkling with sudden interest, "no handsome suitor waiting for your return?"

The question hit like ice water, and I felt my face harden before I could stop it. The change didn't go unnoticed—Vexa's eyebrows shot up, and Rethlyn shifted uncomfortably.

"Well," Vexa drawled, "I guess we'll take that as a yes."

The group leaned in, their curiosity palpable in the firelight. I considered lying, or deflecting, but the rice wine had already loosened my tongue.

"There is someone," I said hesitantly. "It's not serious."

Laryk's face flashed in my mind—that crooked smirk, the rare occasion in which his emerald eyes would soften from the hardness he showed everyone else. I missed him with an intensity that scared me. Because I didn't know what we were.

"Your reaction certainly seemed to imply it was something serious," Effie pressed, cutting through my thoughts. I hadn't realized how hard I was staring into the flames.

"It's just complicated. He—we both had a lot going on." I gestured vaguely at our surroundings. "And we didn't have much time together before... well." The words hung heavy in the air, the unspoken before you kidnapped me making everyone shift uncomfortably.

The silence stretched until I felt compelled to fill it. "We aren't together. He doesn't do monogamy."

"Well that doesn't sound all that romantic." Effie turned up her nose, exchanging a look with Vexa.

"Everyone has their own way of doing things," Vexa said carefully, studying my face. "But the way you say that... it doesn't sound like it's what you want."

I stared into the bottle, watching the dark liquid ripple. Laryk's words echoed in my head: You're different. I clung to that phrase like a lifeline, even as I felt pathetic for doing so. What kind of fool builds hope on two vague words? Especially when I knew his reputation, knew exactly what I was getting into...

"Men are hopeless," Effie declared. "Always an excuse ready. They're seeing only you, but they can't make anything official. They need time, or space, or to focus on their?—"

"I take personal offense to that generalization," Rethlyn protested, pressing a hand to his chest in mock outrage.

Then I noticed Vexa's gaze catch on my Riftborne branding as it reflected the flames from the fire. Her forehead wrinkled.

"I've been wanting to ask you what that means," she said, gesturing towards my left hand with her chin.

I looked down, anxiety blooming in my gut. "It's a branding—a Riftborne branding." Weeks had passed since I'd even thought about it. No one here knew what it meant, and it had been a nice change, in a way, not having to worry about the judgment that came when a stranger's eye fell upon it.

"Riftborne?" Effie asked.

"My parents were from Riftdremar… All of their children were branded after the Uprising," I said in a low tone, avoiding their eye contact.

Silence swept over the clearing and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

"Your parents were from Riftdremar?" Rethlyn leaned forward, shooting Vexa a confused expression.

"We weren't aware there were any survivors," Vexa nearly whispered.

"How do you know about Riftdremar?" I asked, a chill running over my skin. "Aether mentioned it once—when I first got here." How had I forgotten about that?

"We were taught about the conflict when we entered the Umbra," Effie said, furrowing her brow. "When we learned about arcanite."

"Arcanite? What does that have to do with Riftdremar?" My voice was hoarse from the wood smoke.

The three of them exchanged confused glances.

"What are you not telling me?" I asked again, defensiveness creeping into my tone.

"What do you think the war was fought over?" Vexa narrowed her eyes—not in a cutting way, but as if some very obvious truth hung before me that I refused to grasp.

The uprising? Riftdremar had opposed Sídhe's influence… They wanted freedom after nearly a century of Sídhe's involvement in their culture. They wanted to retaliate against the hand that fed them, that invested in their advancement…

"Independence," I said, my eyes shifting between the three Kalfar.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," Rethlyn breathed, suppressing a sigh.

"Fia… Sídhe was ravaging the arcanite stores in Riftdremar for nearly a decade before they burned it down."

Something sharp ripped through me, and I felt as though the air evaporated from my lungs. I knew the uprising never made sense. At some point, I guess I had just started believing what Sídhe was selling me—selling all of us. How many more times could I handle this rug being ripped out from under me? How many times was I going to learn that everything I'd ever known had been a carefully constructed lie? I stood, pacing to lean my shoulder against a tree.

Breathe.

"How do you not know this?" Effie said quietly.

"How do you know this?" I shot back, whipping around. Dread coiled in my gut, threatening to pull me under.

"You think the only rip is in Sídhe?" Vexa asked. "We've known about the one in Riftdremar for far longer."

Her words shocked me to silence.

"You've been to Riftdremar?" the words came out a whisper.

"None of us, no. But before—before it was burned to the ground, some Umbra were there." Rethlyn's eyes held an intensity I couldn't quite place.

"What were they doing there?"

"Discussing an alliance." Vexa's words ran another blade through me.

An alliance? Against Sídhe?

Moments slipped by. I wasn't entirely sure how many, or for how long we stayed like this. The gray sky loomed above, the gnarled forest blurring as my vision shifted.

"They didn't tell you about any of this, I see." Rethlyn took another sip of his wine, and leaned back, a heavy expression on his face.

I shook my head.

"Easier to control the masses if you've fed them a story that paints them in a good light," Vexa mumbled.

"I don't understand. If you were branded, painted as a rebel to these people of Sídhe, how did you even end up in the Guard?" Effie asked, her voice verging on exasperation.

The words sank in. "I wasn't given a choice."

"They forced you to fight for them—after everything?" Vexa's tone was laced with disgust.

"That's how it started out—" I stumbled over my words. "It wasn't like that in the end. I thought I was doing what I was meant to. What was right."

"This man you spoke of earlier—he's also in the Guard?" Effie raised an eyebrow.

I nodded.

The silence that followed felt charged with their poorly concealed judgment, even as they tried to maintain polite expressions.

"Well," Rethlyn said finally, swirling the wine around in the bottle, "I suppose I should give you the standard response of 'you deserve better than that.'"

"You don't understand," I finally said, my voice sharper than intended. "I know how it seems to all of you. But you didn't know me before. When he brought me into the Guard, everything changed."

"The General you told me about before?" Vexa asked, her expression connecting the dots.

I looked away, unable to meet their eyes.

"Well, that's a nightmare in power dynamics," Effie muttered.

"It wasn't like that," I insisted, heat rising in my cheeks.

"He forces you to join the Guard—the one who destroyed your home and branded you? And you fell for him?" Vexa's voice wasn't cruel, but it was pained. I wasn't sure which was worse.

I knew how all of it looked. How it must sound to all of them. Even hearing it all playing out in my head was making me nauseous. Their pity was suffocating. I could feel it rolling off them in waves.

"Well there was clearly a lot of manipulation going on," Rethlyn sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You're right Fia, none of us have the slightest clue what it was like to be in that situation." He shot Vexa a look.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, driven by wine. "Laryk taught me so much about myself, how to wield my focus, how to fight. He was the only person who ever saw something useful in me."

"Sounds like he was creating a lovely new weapon in you." Vexa clicked her teeth.

I went still. "I don't know why I'm bothering to explain any of this to you," I said, my voice trembling. "I didn't have a life—a purpose—until Laryk found me. I don't care how it comes across to you. I experienced it firsthand. I was drowning, and he saved me from myself."

I could feel tears threatening to spill, and I refused to let them see me cry. I turned away from the fire.

"Fia, wait!" I heard Vexa's voice call from behind.

Their apologies followed me as I strode into the darkness, but I didn't slow down. I was so focused on holding back tears that I nearly collided with a solid form in the shadows.

Aether.

Of course it would be him. Of course he would see me like this, with tears streaming down my face despite my best efforts to contain them. I waited for the criticism.

"Don't," I said, when he fell into step beside me. "I just want to be alone. In the quiet."

But he didn't leave. He just walked silently beside me, his presence somehow steadier than before.

"Don't let them get to you," he said finally, his voice low. "I ignore them most of the time anyway."

The simplicity of his response, so devoid of judgment or pity, made something in my chest loosen just slightly as we walked back toward the mountain. But as I glanced up at it, I realized I didn’t want to go back to it either. To the confinement.

I stopped.

Aether’s eyes cut back to me, raising a pierced eyebrow.

“I’d rather—” I started, looking around desperately, “I don’t want to go back there yet.”

He turned fully then, crossing his arms, “and where do you want to go?”

I let out a gentle sigh as I realized I had no idea. But if he was willing to get me out of here—if that’s what he was offering with his question, I was going to take it.

“Can we just walk?” I asked .

Instead of answering, he simply examined me for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Finally, he moved further into the brush, in the opposite direction of the mountain. Before I knew it, he was turning to me, walking backward through the gnarled branches.

“So are you coming, or not?” he asked, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

I brushed the remnants of salty tears from my eyes and followed.

The forest was quiet save for the crunch of leaves beneath our boots. I welcomed the silence after the chaos at the fire, though my thoughts kept drifting back to their questions about Laryk. How they seemed incapable of understanding.

Aether's arm suddenly shot out across my chest, pulling me to a stop. I followed his gaze to the ground where rotting wooden spikes protruded from a concealed pit.

"Old trap," he said, guiding me around it. "The forest's full of them."

"You seem to be in your natural habitat out here." I remembered Vexa calling him a lumberjack, Rethlyn's mentions of his cabin. "It's surprising. You don't seem the rural type."

His eyebrow arched. "And what type do I seem?"

"Well, I've never seen a hunter with that much metal in his face."

A rare laugh escaped him, deep and rich. "The piercings are tradition. You'll learn about that eventually." His golden eyes sparked with amusement. "I wasn't aware appearances dictated who could prefer forests to fortresses."

"So you admit you're a recluse?"

"I prefer the term selective socializer."

"Selective socializer," I echoed. "Is that what you call hiding in the woods?"

"Says the woman who's currently hiding in the woods with me. "

"I'm not hiding, I'm..." I searched for the right word. "Strategically avoiding conversation. And responsibility."

"Clearly that's working well for you." A dimple appeared as he navigated around a fallen log.

A comfortable silence fell between us as we walked deeper into the forest. The tension from earlier had dissolved into something relatively peaceful, considering. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking—the way he moved through the trees with such familiarity.

"Watch your step," he said, pointing out another trap. "These get harder to spot the deeper we go."

"How many times have you fallen in one?"

"None." A hint of pride touched his voice. "Though Vexa managed to find the deepest one last spring."

He shook his head, as if recalling a memory.

"She's convinced I set up elaborate traps just to spite her," he said, "as if I have nothing better to do."

I couldn't help but smile at the image of Vexa, covered in mud, hurling accusations at him. It was strange seeing this side of him—the subtle humor, the way his absurd brooding had mellowed into something almost companionable.

"So what do you actually do out here? Besides leading unsuspecting people into deadly pits?"

"Exist, mostly." He ducked under a low branch. "The forest's quieter than the fortress. Less politics."

A screech echoed overhead, and we both looked up to see a dark shape cutting through the gray sky. Nihr's wings stretched wide as she banked sharply.

"Does she always follow you like that?"

"She's a protective one." Aether's eyes tracked his mount's movement.

"They seem…" I hesitated. "Particular. For animals, at least."

"They are." That hint of pride returned to his voice. "Nihr found me shortly after I emerged from the Void. Wouldn't leave me alone for days. Eventually I stopped trying to chase her off."

"You tried to chase off a Vordr?"

"Not my finest moment." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Though in my defense, I wasn't exactly thinking clearly at the time."

I tried to imagine what that must have been like. Emerging from the Void with no memories, no sense of who you were or where you belonged, and then having this powerful creature decide you were worth following. Did he even know what a Vordr was then? Or was Nihr just another strange thing in a world that made no sense?

Nihr dove through the canopy, branches swaying in her wake. "And she just... decided to stay? Even after your hesitation?"

"Vordr choose their riders for life. Once they've decided, that's it. Stubborn beasts." He shrugged. "No point arguing with a creature that's lived for centuries."

"How old is she?"

"No one knows exactly. The records mention a black Vordr with silver-tipped wings during the first war, but..." He glanced up as Nihr circled overhead. "It's impossible to tell if it was her."

“So, I’m assuming that would make her ancient?”

"Hence why I stopped arguing." That slight smile appeared again.

"Fair point." I paused, curiosity getting the better of me. "What was the first war?"

His golden eyes darted towards me curiously. "The war that put the Valtyrs on the throne. Before them, the Syrndore bloodline ruled." He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through the dry wood. "But the Valtyrs were Duskbound. They claimed it was a divine right to rule."

"And that's why they won?"

"They united the other noble houses. The records say the fighting lasted decades." His jaw tightened. "Nearly destroyed the realm before the Valtyrs claimed the throne."

I nodded as we fell into comfortable silence again.

"We should head back," Aether said, "you'll need your rest come tomorrow."

I followed him towards the mountain, avoiding twigs from the thick, dead brush, suddenly aware of how much lighter I felt.