Page 8

Aspen

I catch every wince Kaia tries to hide as she sprawls on the couch, each subtle shift of weight betraying what she refuses to admit.

Her shadows move sluggishly around her ankles, even Bob's usually crisp formations wavering like disturbed water.

She's been pushing herself beyond breaking, and something in my chest tightens watching her pretend she's fine.

One look at Torric confirms he sees it too. My brother's jaw ticks once, his golden eyes tracking her movements with the same concern twisting in my gut. We don't need words. When you've trained alongside someone for decades, a single glance carries paragraphs.

"Kaia." I keep my voice soft but steady. When she turns, the shadows under her eyes are deeper than the ones curling around her feet. "You need recovery time before tomorrow."

"I'm fine," she starts, but Torric cuts her off with a sharp laugh.

"Like hell you are. Your left side drops every time you breathe, your shoulders are locked, and even Bob looks ready to collapse." He crosses his arms, radiating the stubborn determination that's saved my life more times than I can count. "You're coming with us. "

She bristles, violet eyes flashing, that familiar spark that makes my heart beat faster even when it's directed at me. "We don't have time for—"

"Actually," I interrupt, gentling my tone, "your body needs time to rebuild what magic has burned through. Going into Absentia like this would be—" I pause, knowing battle language will resonate more than concern "—tactically unsound."

Torric's lips twitch. He knows exactly what I'm doing, appealing to her practical side rather than trying to force her to rest. It's a strategy we've perfected over years of watching people push themselves to breaking.

"The healing rooms," I continue before she can protest, watching her shadows drift reluctantly toward me like they know what she needs better than she does, "have therapeutic pools specifically designed for magical exhaustion. An hour there would significantly increase your stamina tomorrow."

Her shadows shift restlessly, but I can see her resistance cracking. Patricia actually seems to be taking notes on my argument, her shadowy form bobbing with agreement.

"One hour," she says finally, the words dragging like they cost her.

"Two," Torric counters, his voice brooking no argument. "And that's non-negotiable."

I lead them through the winding corridors to the healing wing, noting how Kaia's steps falter, how she lists slightly to the left when she thinks we aren't watching.

Now that she's admitted to needing rest, the full weight of her exhaustion seems to be settling into her bones.

Her shadows trail behind like weary soldiers, barely maintaining their forms. Even Steve and Carl, usually bouncing with inappropriate energy, drag behind like sulking children .

The healing rooms are mercifully empty this late. Enchanted crystals cast soft, ambient light across the marble floors, their glow reflecting off the still water in pools set into the stone. Steam rises in gentle curls, carrying the scent of herbs and old magic.

"This one," I say, gesturing to a pool glowing with gentle violet light. "The minerals will help your muscles recover, and the enchantments work specifically with shadow magic."

Torric is already moving, gathering towels and healing salts in his efficient way. We've spent enough time patching each other up that this is familiar territory, caring for someone who'd sooner bleed out than ask for help.

"I can manage on my own," Kaia protests weakly, but her shadows betray her, drifting toward the pool like they're drawn to its healing properties. Bob actually dips what might be a toe in, then visibly relaxes.

"Of course you can," I say, keeping my voice neutral even as my fingers itch to help. "But you don't have to."

Kaia hesitates, her pride warring with exhaustion in the set of her shoulders. Finally, she nods, allowing us to help her toward the pool. Her shadows drift ahead, Bob and Carl testing the water's edge with ghostly tendrils.

"We'll be right outside," Torric says, his gruff tone belying the gentleness with which he hands her a stack of soft towels. "Call if you need anything."

I add a vial of concentrated healing salts to the pile. "A capful every fifteen minutes. They'll amplify the pool's restorative properties."

Kaia manages a tired smile, small but real. "Thank you. Both of you."

We step out, giving her privacy. The moment the door closes, Torric's shoulders drop, composure cracking like ice under pressure .

"She's pushing too hard," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "At this rate, she'll burn out before we even reach Absentia."

I lean against the wall, letting out a slow breath that carries more worry than I want to admit. "I know. But we can't exactly tie her down and force her to rest."

"Want to bet?" Torric's golden eyes glint with a flash of his usual mischief, but it fades quickly, replaced by the weight I feel pressing against my own ribs. "She's not ready for this, Aspen. None of us are."

The reality of what we're facing settles over us like a physical thing. Absentia. The word alone brings cold sweat to my palms. A realm of nightmares and forgotten things, where reality bends and breaks. And we're willingly walking into it because the alternative is worse.

"We don't have a choice," I say softly. "If we don't stop the corruption from spreading…"

Torric nods grimly. "I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

We fall into tense silence, each lost in thoughts too heavy to voice. The gentle hum of healing magic seeps through the door, a counterpoint to the fears crowding my mind.

After what feels like hours but is likely only minutes, Torric speaks again. "Do you think her shadows will be enough? In Absentia, I mean."

I consider the question carefully. Kaia's shadow magic is powerful, but Absentia is…

unpredictable. Especially for her shadows like Bob and the others who've been with her through everything.

"I don't know," I admit. "But Bob and the others have been protecting Kaia since before she even knew who she was.

That kind of loyalty doesn't just vanish, even in a place like Absentia. "

As if summoned by our discussion, a tendril of shadow seeps beneath the door. The shadow Carl, I think, his energy is always a little more chaotic, gestures urgently then points back toward the door.

Torric and I exchange a glance before pushing through. The sight that greets us hollows me out.

Kaia is curled into herself in the violet-tinged water, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Her shadows swirl around her protectively, but even they seem diminished, flickering like candles in a draft.

The healing salts float untouched on the surface, forgotten in whatever storm is breaking inside her.

My chest tightens, throat closing around words that won't come.

I've seen Kaia face nightmare creatures without flinching.

Watched her bend shadows to her will with fierce determination.

But this vulnerability, this glimpse of the weight she carries, it breaks something in me I didn't know was whole.

We approach carefully, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous room. The steam carries the scent of lavender and something wilder—a hint of shadow magic, perhaps, or simply the essence of Kaia herself.

She lifts her head as we reach the pool's edge. Her violet eyes, usually so vibrant with life and stubbornness, are red-rimmed and swimming with unshed tears. For a moment, I don't see the formidable Valkyrie with an army of shadows, but a young woman drowning under too many expectations.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice raw. "I didn't mean to… I just…" Her words scatter like leaves, lost in a fresh wave of tears.

Without hesitation, Torric and I step into the pool, clothes and all. The enchanted water swirls around us, warm and tingling with restorative magic that seeps into my own tired muscles—a quiet reminder of how much we've all been pushing ourselves.

Kaia watches us approach, walls of sarcasm and bravado stripped bare. There's a question in her eyes, a vulnerability that clutches at my heart with cold fingers. She's giving us permission, I realize. Letting us see her at her lowest. Trusting us with something she never shows.

I reach her first, gently pulling her into my arms. She stiffens for a moment, then melts against me, her tears soaking into my shirt. Torric settles beside her, his hand finding her back in slow, steady circles.

"It's okay," I murmur, running my fingers through her damp hair. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Not with us."

Her shadows drift closer, no longer sharp-edged formations but soft things seeking comfort. Bob, usually so dignified, wraps around my wrist like a child seeking reassurance. Carl nestles against Torric's shoulder, a dark patch against his golden skin.

"I'm scared," she admits, her voice muffled against my chest. "Absentia… what if I can't control my shadows there? What if I'm not strong enough?"

I hold her closer as Torric's hand stills on her back. "Listen to me," my brother says, his voice rough with emotion. "Your strength isn't just about controlling shadows. It's about bringing light to the darkest places, and you do that just by being you."

A small sound escapes her, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her shadows ripple in response, and I feel Bob pat my arm awkwardly, as if offering comfort for comforting her. The gesture is so perfectly Bob that I have to fight a smile despite the ache in my chest.

"Besides," I add softly, resting my chin atop her head, "you won't be alone in Absentia. Whatever's waiting there, we face it together. "

"As a team," Torric agrees, his eyes meeting mine over her head. I see my own promise reflected there. We've trained for impossible odds. This one just matters more.

The healing pool's magic swirls around us, its violet glow intensifying where it meets Kaia's shadows.

They seem to drink in the restorative energy, their movements becoming more fluid, more alive.

Patricia has even started taking notes again, though her shadowy scribbles look more like comfort food recipes than her usual tactical observations.

"I don't deserve this," Kaia whispers, but her fingers curl tighter into my shirt. "Any of it. You both have already risked so much—"

The words hit like something sharp lodged behind my ribs. How can she not see what she means to us?

"Stop," I cut her off gently. "That's exhaustion talking. You're not just our leader or our friend, Kaia. You're family." The word settles between us, more true than I realized until I said it. "And family means no one fights alone."

Torric's hand squeezes her shoulder. "What he said. Though with less sappy phrasing."

That draws a watery laugh from her, and I feel some of the tension drain from her body. Her shadows settle into more natural patterns, though they stay close, as if reluctant to break this moment of connection.

"The salts," I remind her, reaching for the forgotten vial. "Let's get you properly healed. Then we can talk strategy, or not talk at all. Whatever you need."

She lets me add the healing salts to the water, their crystalline shimmer creating patterns that her shadows chase like fascinated kittens. Even Bob forgets his dignity, darting after the sparkling trails with childlike enthusiasm that makes my heart swell.

"Thank you," Kaia says after a while, her voice steadier. "For everything. For being here. For understanding."

"Always," Torric and I say together, and I feel her smile against my chest.

The healing room falls quiet except for the gentle lapping of the enchanted water. Outside these walls, destiny and danger wait. But here, in this moment, we're just three people holding each other up.

And sometimes, I think, the strongest magic is simply refusing to let someone fall alone.