Page 15 of Light Locked #1

She massaged her temples. “I find you so frustrating. I don’t even care if you know any longer. It’s like I’m trying to make peace with war!”

“I was wondering when you would stop trying to be so hypocritical.”

“I was trying to be professional! You make it incredibly difficult. You never talk. When you do, you’re rude, and when you’re not rude, you’re correcting me!” She threw her arms back at him and then crossed them, perhaps only to throw them again.

“Friends is not professional,” he corrected.

“Fine! Friendly! Is that such a crime? We spend all day together! Every day! We still have weeks left!”

No reply.

Clea sighed and stared at the flames, wondering why she couldn’t find them as fascinating as he could. “I give up,” she whispered.

He rose to his feet.

“I’m going to look around,” he said.

She perked up. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“It’s only a precaution. I won’t be far.”

“How do I know you won’t leave?” she asked, alarmed at the sudden nature of his decision.

Ryson rolled his eyes, and in a single fluid movement, he slid the strap of his scythe off his shoulder and tossed the weapon to her. She gasped at the weight as it fell into her arms.

“If anything happens, I’ll come back to make sure the weapon is safe.” He made his way into the forest, and Clea watched as his form dissolved into the darkness.

???

Ryson breathed a sigh of relief when the night closed in around him. He walked until it felt like he’d left Clea in another world.

He ran a hand through his hair and paced. He dug his heels hard into the ground, and clenched his fists, indulging any whim that he felt might diffuse his anger. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure leaning against a tree to his left. He turned and continued pacing.

“Don’t say a word,” he hissed.

How can I resist? The figure laughed. Ryson turned back toward it and glanced up to see the replica of himself.

“Can’t you manifest as something other than me?” he grumbled before turning and pacing again.

Well, seeing as I am your cien, I felt it would be most appropriate. Do you prefer this?

Ryson looked back to see the perfect likeness of Alina curtsy by the tree.

Ryson kept his eyes trained on her black irises, the only proof that the likeness was an illusion of his cien.

There were times when he focused on that blackness to stay grounded in reality.

His cien would happily drive him to insanity with its illusions if it could.

That was the risk, after all, of giving cien your mind .

He turned from the image again and paced.

Or maybe this?

He barely heard his cien speak before he turned to see an image of Clea waving and smiling politely.

He whirled back around with an angry growl.

The cien laughed, now with his voice, assuring him that Clea’s image was gone.

“I think I might kill her before anything in this accursed forest does.”

Oh? it said with delight.

“I might go insane before she does!” He gripped his head, picking up his pace. “Her every action irritates me to my core! Her pious, self-righteous naivety! I want to push her off a cliff!”

How about something a bit more accessible? Fire?

“And her eyes! Those big , dark eyes that stare at the woods like she is in a trance—like she enjoys it here! At first, she was reserved, guarded. Now she’s—she’s being—being—”

Herself?

“Yes!”

Just set her on fire.

“And she’s so loud! Walking on every crunching leaf and dry twig, like she’s aiming for them!

Adjusting her things, picking at her clothes, checking her hair, braiding, and rebraiding, and braiding, and rebraiding!

I just want to grab her hair and–” He stopped and glared before him, like she was right in front of him.

Burn it.

“What? No.”

Pull it all off her head?

“No. You aren’t getting the point.”

At least I’m making them.

“Look. I’m still not used to dealing with my emotions—that’s what she is! A mass of emotions and noise! I want to bury my own grave and lie in it just to get peace and quiet!”

If you found your soul and returned to being who you used to be, then you wouldn’t have these problems.

“If my power returns, then so does the curse that sealed my heart.”

I feel like that’s the point I just made.

“No. You aren’t seeing the point,” Ryson snapped back. “I eventually lost all will and motivation to exist.”

Maybe next time, just give me your heart instead. I’ll take very good care of it. You’d enjoy life so much, you’d never want to sleep again.

Ryson stood with his arms crossed and allowed the silence to settle. The silence reminded him that Clea was not the worst part of this journey, because the longer he stood there, the more eyes materialized in the darkness around him.

They appeared in rows, stacked on top of each other, until looking out between the trees was like looking up at the stars.

Clea assumed they hadn’t encountered any forest beasts. The exact opposite was true. She was like a magnet for them. They’d been completely surrounded since the first night. It didn’t matter what route he chose.

They’re like dogs, waiting for the scraps from your table.

“Until something stronger comes along and gives them permission to eat us both. We’re walking an extremely fine line, and there won’t be any escaping it until we get to Loda. I’m not sure how long I can exert my influence like this. I’ve never seen the forest this hungry.”

He was convinced Clea’s disposition, in addition to her blood, had something to do with it.

She’d spoken casually of her time in Virday and had been more revealing than she knew.

She talked about thieves and murderers in theory as if they were monsters under the bed, and yet acted as if she’d never met one.

Several of her supposed acquaintances had been imprisoned for just that, but she didn’t quite seem to understand the contradiction between her speech and her behavior.

She’d acted horrified about collaborating with smugglers, but that hadn’t stopped her from considering the journey with him.

At this point, Ryson was convinced she’d said yes to the offer immediately and just hadn’t realized it yet.

He’d never seen anyone work so hard to maintain biases that most Veilin carried naturally.

Maybe that’s why her parents kept her locked up.

If he had to trust any of her six siblings to carry on the family name in the tradition of her people, it certainly wasn’t this one.

She was a Veilin, sure, but a defective one by any standard.

Clea could likely recite to him a mental checklist of the type of people she would avoid at all costs, not realizing he checked every single one of those boxes. Instead, she wanted to get to know him better.

The fool.

Openness was foolish. Openness was a natural invitation, one he was certain the forest could sense. He was sure the forest could sense it because he could sense it. It was a bleeding heart in shark infested waters.

You might as well take a bite while you can. Maybe it will make having such an audience worth it.

“I miss being alone,” he said, but his mind hung on the suggestion.

He wondered what taking a bite would look like, and was reminded of those fleeting moments where his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

It truly had just been curiosity at first. His eyes flickered instinctively to every glimpse of her exposed skin, wondering why she covered herself with such determined persistence.

He’d always had a voracious curiosity, and at the peak of his power, nothing had seemed truly hidden to him.

After several days, his curiosity morphed into fascination, and playfully, his mind started to tease him with ways to see more of her.

It didn’t help that she seemed so at ease in his presence.

She didn’t yet think him a monster, but it was odd she had no reservations when he was also a man.

Maybe she thought her extensive clothing made her both invisible and invincible.

He chuckled inwardly at the irony that it was accomplishing quite the opposite.

Hiding something had always made him more inclined to uncover it.

His cien repeated its earlier temptations, and he shook it loose from his mind as if shaking it from a tree. One benefit of being so much weaker was that his human side had much more control over those impulses now.

You don’t miss being alone. You miss being yourself. It tried another angle now and the argument ensued.

“Losing my power, allowing the curse on my heart to fade, I finally knew how I wanted to die, what I needed to do before I died. Waking up at last, I wanted something for the first time in a long time.”

You can find your soul. You can track it down. His cien continued to persuade him.

“I’ve been given one last chance to pursue what I want, what I didn’t even know I wanted.”

You don’t want to die. You regret going on this journey.

“I don’t regret it.”

Oh yes, you do. Need I remind you that I am only able to materialize in times of doubt?

“I know. But that’s not what I’m doubting. ”

Then what is it?

Ryson ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know.”

Emotions are such a confusing nuisance, aren’t they? You should curse your heart again, or like I said, give it to me. I want it. Give it to me.

Ryson gritted his teeth. “I didn’t leave her so I could speak with you. I need silence.”

When you’re in the ansra of her presence, I can’t reach you. It’s dangerous to be out of touch with me, Ryson.

“I need silence,” Ryson said, used to his cien’s persuasion. It always acted out of self-preservation.

It’s dangerous. We have much to discuss.

“Quiet!” Ryson demanded, and his cien vanished, locked back in the depths of his mind.

He sighed, massaging his temples. Even the solace of solitude gave him no relief.

???