Page 41 of Aryn

Even after all these years, it feels like a vow against my chest. My father pressed it into my hands and declared me the head of our family, with a smile so wide I can still picture it all these years later. It was such an honor, and one I wore with pride.

Only five years passed before I was taken. The last time I saw my father, that smile was replaced by fear, even as I tried to reassure him I would be fine.

I wasn’t fine.

How could I ever be, after what they did?

I often wonder what happened in my absence. How long did they search for me, and how deeply were their hearts broken when I didn’t return?

The mountains block the moonlight, almost taunting me with their distance. Even after an entire day of nonstop walking, they don’t look any closer than they did this morning. I squint, desperately searching for signs of life in the foothills despite knowing we’re too far.

A cold knot tightens in my chest at the thought that I may be the last of my family still breathing. What if no others survived the wars? What if the army returned and wiped them out, and I’ve been chasing an impossible dream?

What if more names have been carved into tombs alongside the one I once loved above all others?

A rustle of leaves steals my attention, and I force myself to stay in the present. I drop the chain back under my shirt, the weight of the ring suddenly much heavier against my skin.

Cato

I take over watch from Aryn in the middle of the night, after Kuu has set. The dark is nearly absolute, with so little light coming from the sky that I can’t see anything beyond the first row of trees. After being spoiled by my sleeping bag for the last few hours, the cold is twice as brutal. My body is adjusting—begrudgingly—so even if my insides have turned to chunks of ice, at least I’m not shivering anymore.

Small mercies.

I stand near the edge of the alcove, hand on my blade while I scan the pitch black tree line. The two giant moons cast everything in that eerie red glow that somehow already feels familiar.

A soft crunch makes me turn to find Aryn approaching. He’s far too alert for having just come off watch, and the fat flakes of snow on his shoulders and hat tell me he never got into his bag.

“Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” I ask, keeping my voice low so I don’t disturb the others.

He shakes his head. “Mind won’t settle. Is it alright if I sit with you for a while?”

I gesture to the rock beside me. “Be my guest. Two sets of eyes are better than one, and I can’t see shit out here as it is.”

He sits with what looks like a grin in this damn darkness, but says nothing as he stares out into the forest. His eyes are even more catlike as the light reflects off his pupils. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed. When we trained in the village, I was always aware of how much more keenly he sees the world at night.

I wonder if it’s different here—if being in his home world heightens those senses even more. Then I think of his rolling muscles and lightning fast reflexes, and wonder if those are any different either.

I could ask.

I should ask.

It’s not like these are intimate questions, and it’s logical I want to know. We’re relying on each other out here, after all. It’s natural. It’s fine.

Except I’m not the type to ask questions. Not the type to chum it up, or have deep conversations in the middle of the night with the quiet warrior with pretty eyes. I heave a sigh, and Aryn glances in my direction at the frustrated noise.

Something about him makes my tongue loose. Now that I’ve opened the gates, a hundred different questions flash through my mind. Some have answers that make sense out here in the wilderness, while others are too… personal.

I settle on the safest one. “Are you glad you came?”

“I don’t know that I had a choice,” he answers slowly, always so careful with his words. “Sovran all but commanded it.”

“Eh, fuck that,” I reply. “I’m not a big fan of this whole lose-your-free-will bullshit they have going on.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he says with a soft laugh. “Even without that piece of it, though, yes. I’m glad I came. If Sovran hadn’t insisted on it, I would’ve been the first to volunteer.”

“When we first passed through that portal, you said it didn’t feel the same. Has that changed now that we’ve been here a few days?”

He gets quiet, and I worry I’ve struck a raw nerve. After all, returning to the shell of my old home wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park, and I certainly wouldn’t want to talk about it.