Page 33 of Light Locked #1

In asking the question, she couldn’t deny the depth of her own hurt and how exposed she felt.

She remembered telling him a week into their journey that she was determined to see the world for what it was, not what she wanted it to be.

It was no wonder he had raised an eyebrow.

She was surprised he hadn’t doubled over in laughter right there.

“Knowledge has its own power to manipulate, devastate and strengthen people,” he began and his voice was matter-of-fact but there was a rising gentleness to the explanation.

“To withhold so much of it from you is to wound you profoundly. It’s the choices you’ve made despite that woundedness that have given me a glimpse into what you might be capable of,” he said, his expression softening in such a way that he almost looked like a different person.

For the first time, to her, he looked truly human. She saw a glimpse of a heart that perceived wounds of knowledge to be much more severe than wounds of the flesh. The words that came next felt human. They felt like they came from the only human part of him left .

“You are ill equipped for the days to come, but you may have the qualities to make it through despite that.” He continued, his words reaching through the space between them, calling her out of rage and dismay, guiding her attention to the impending future without pity, coddling or scolding.

He spoke as if with experience, and she found some deep part of her grasp for the weighty truth of the words.

“If you endure it authentically, you might just encounter the truths in yourself that you’re looking for.”

She was not prepared for the profound nature of his words.

Previously so sharp and disgruntled, he sounded now like a Veilin cleric and she reflected back on his previous use of their teachings the night before.

Now, he did seem like a completely different person, almost wise, and she found herself resisting the shift in her own perspective.

“You’re saying this just to give me hope,” she said evenly as if he were solely intent on comforting her.

“I can’t lie to you. Not anymore. If you really want to see the truth of the world, like you say, you will have to keep your eyes open, but in order to survive, you very well might have to close them.”

He was a completely different person. She wondered where this thoughtful and apparently wise version of him had been the last several weeks.

The familiar silence returned, and there was no tension between them, only the formation of a kind of choice she tried to shape more conclusively in her mind.

She struggled to summarize his words in her own language .

“So my choice will be between finding the truth and survival?” she asked, getting the sense that just as Ryson suggested, this moment in time was just as pivotal as it was dreadful.

“It very often is,” he said, and could she deny it?

She knew that people often turned their faces away from what was ugly, and in doing so, they cut out a piece of truth from the world and were never capable of seeing it as a whole.

In practicing healing, she’d tried fervently to witness even the worst of things, but realizing she’d barely seen half of it shook her.

In the silence that followed, the carriage bumbled on.

Clea bumbled with it, overtaken with shivering, but Ryson didn’t ask her to come over again.

She looked away from him, feeling the pull of the comfort of his frame until at last she relented in the cold and made her way over to him.

He accepted her back into her place, Clea curling up in his arms as he looped his shackled hands over her and tugged her close against his chest. After several minutes, her shivering ceased and she eased comfortably into him, savoring whatever this moment was before the carriage stopped.

She tried to recall the last time she’d been this close to anyone. Had it felt this safe and this warm?

“Which do you think I will choose?” Clea whispered against him, feeling calmer now, despite the gravity of the days ahead. Her eyes were closed and she nestled deeper into his chest, turning into him to gather more heat against her face and hands as he replied.

“I’m not sure any of us ever knows until we’re there,” Ryson breathed back as if her shifting against his chest had taken some of his breath away.

She attributed it to her own clumsy movements and reminded herself to be gentler as she moved around again.

For such a determined fighter, he seemed awfully fragile in the moment.

She knew she’d healed him fully, so maybe it was the cold skin of her hands and face that made him restless.

He had invited her over repeatedly to get warmer.

She wouldn’t apologize for that, especially since half of the issue was that she’d spent so much of her energy on him.

As the minutes passed, she relaxed progressively against him, until Ryson brought up the topic he’d buried at the start of their conversation, perhaps contemplating all along.

“There is one more thing I have to share with you,” he began, and she resented the coming knowledge despite not knowing what it was. She winced against his chest, hoping it would be short winded.

“You healed an Insednian, and there was an Insednian there to witness it. You committed a great trespass against your own people.”

“Ryson,” she stirred in protest, speaking groggily into his chest. “Haven’t I heard enough? I made my choice. Honestly, I barely had one. I couldn’t have let you die like that, Venennin or not.”

“I can’t spare you this,” he said back. “I can’t reel back. I can’t replicate the wounds of your people by hiding this from you.”

“I didn’t realize the trial of truth or survival started now,” she mumbled .

“Listen,” he said sternly.

“I understand. I made a million mistakes, one after the other. Even a fool deserves a nap before being sold to her demise,” she said grimly. “Can you just wait and tell me if I survive?”

“No,” he said, and the sound was both unrelenting and intense.

She didn’t reply, knowing the words were coming and determined to try and sleep anyway.

“I would never make such an offer if I weren’t so weak, as I would never seek to bind someone like you to myself, but I promise to never lie to you, not for what remains of my life.”

“Thank you. I am sincerely grateful. Please tell me that’s it,” she replied sleepily and a few seconds passed uncontested.

She jolted when she felt a sharp pinch in her shoulder and yanked back in his arms.

“Did you just bite me?” she exclaimed, feeling the residual teeth marks.

“I can’t use my hands,” he said, frustrated.

“You’re an animal,” she remarked bitterly, but didn’t rest her head back against him again, facing him now.

He didn’t pay any mind to the insult, determinedly sharing his prepared explanation. “I can only pass this on as I reflect on who I was.”

As he spoke now, she witnessed the pain in his eyes and could not look away, at last digesting the gravity of his intentions.

“I’m afraid if you’d have met my former self, your aspiration to find the light would have made me your truest enemy.

I lost so much, but it did not make me a healer like it has you.

It made me something else entirely, an Insednian of renown who years after his own demise, still struggles to shake free of his legacy. ”

He held her tighter as he spoke, as if holding on to something precious, and she was completely awake to his words.

Ryson had never shared this much about his past, had never shown her his pain and in his arms now, she realized that she was looking into the eyes of a genuine friend.

He really cared about her, deeply even, and she could only wonder what had spurred him to finally share his concerns so overtly.

What was so urgent?

“Listen to me,” he said, emphasizing that he was prepared to share just that.

“In healing me, you’ve tethered yourself to something dark.

You felt it, didn’t you? The wounds? Wounds I didn’t know you were capable of healing.

Nevertheless, your solitary expertise in healing allowed you to do something most could not, and even then, would not do.

You felt their history and did not let go.

You may not know me entirely, but through healing just that portion of me, deep down, you know more of me than most.”

As he said the words, she reflected on the experience she hadn’t fully processed yet. She was too tired to think through every sensation or the implications of them, but she couldn’t deny that some of her exhaustion was not just the experience of healing but also how emotional it had been .

Even with his explanation, she couldn’t grasp why it changed him so dramatically. He’d seen her heal plenty of people, not at the risk of her own life, but still.

“Now,” he continued firmly, “you must walk away. Any chance that you get to walk away in the days ahead, you take it, at the risk of your life. Do you understand? Do not try and help me. No matter what is to come. If you have any chance to leave me behind, you do it. Do you understand?”

“Ryson,” she protested, frustrated that her only source of comfort now seemed intent to remove that from her as well.

“Actions bind,” he said, more urgently. “Words, thoughts, touch, they all tie people together. The Veilin speak of contamination of the life blood. There is some truth to that. Now, I touch you, I speak to you, I make offers of my own knowledge and protection, but only in my weakness. You could slay me now where we sit, Princess. I am weak and so at last in one way, I am free to give without consequence, without any risk of taking. If I were my former self, I would want and take at your expense. And you,” he paused, shaking his head as she searched his eyes, “you in your nature, Clea, could be convinced to give so generously. Do me this favor, Princess, and understand that my life ended a long time ago.”