‘This… doesn’t… feel very feminine.’

‘And it should because…?’

‘I don’t know, I just thought… it would fit a woman.’

‘What you imply is…?’

‘Well… I mean…’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. I apologise. Lead on, please.’

‘People won’t mistake your lack of self-confidence as kindness, girl,’ the knight said with eyes narrowed as she began treading down the winding path leaving Tusk Ridge behind. Maeve quickly paced up, fidgeting with the loose sleeves of the green and brown shirt the knight gave her, trying not to tumble because of the oversized trousers. ‘You don’t need to put please and I apologise at the end of every sentence.’

‘I’m sor—’ Maeve cleared her throat. ‘This is how I function. You… find it annoying?’

‘I do. Most people do. You’re Reborn. It’s not you who need to lick other people’s boots.’

‘I’m Reborn not because of merit. The faelin could have touched anyone.’

‘But it didn’t touch anyone, it touched you. People have a vision of what to expect from Reborn. If you constantly defy those expectations, you undermine your own efforts and authority. They will be disappointed with you.’

‘People fear us,’ Maeve whispered. ‘They fear Reborn, they don’t look at us as heroes.’

‘Because you are something unfamiliar, alien. Something they don’t understand. Isn’t it deeply human? To fear something we don’t understand.’

‘It’s not only fear,’ Maeve shook her head, sour memories emerging from the recess of her mind. ‘It’s loathing and contempt, too.’

‘Simple hate at best. They fear you because you’re able to do things they can’t. And they hate you because they fear you.’

‘That’s a vicious cycle.’

‘It is. But you’re free of their contempt. That’s directed towards knights.’

‘Why would that be?’

Lyn raised her eyes. ‘Because knights are essentially trying to mimic Reborn powers.’

Maeve blinked.

‘Have you even met a knight before?’ Lyn asked, sighing.

‘I have.’

‘Yet you haven’t heard about why knights are brutal warriors. You’re self-taught. Haven’t actually learnt at that parody of an Academy, have you?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Maeve often wished she had. ‘But I had some… teachings.’

‘Not enough, it seems.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What have I told you about this?’

‘Ap… It’ll never happen again.’

Maeve could see the knight’s jaws flexing, teeth clearly grinding.

They walked in silence for a while, but Maeve could not stop asking:

‘So… what is our plan?’

‘What plan?’

‘Oh. I see.’

‘Calm your tits, girl. We’re doing some circles, check if any of those vermin managed to sneak through the barrier. You’re going to get back safe and sound.’

‘And… what happens if we find some of them?’

‘We’ll have several options. Eliminating them right there, attempting to drag them back to the Ridge, and fleeing. Since neither of us can run for dozens of miles, I believe we are left with the first two.’

Maeve must have had all her emotions written on her face, for Lyn snorted in amusement when she glanced at her.

‘What? I can fight. You can heal. We’re making a deadly team. Should I injure in fight, you just hop to me, do your magics, and I can get back right on track.’

Maeve felt this thought being sickeningly close to what Bethlorn told her an eternity ago. That was … like … two weeks ago? A bit more? Scary.

‘I, uhm…’

‘Pull yourself together, please. If one of those worms starts gnawing at my leg, I don’t want you to gabble and quiver while I’m eaten away.’

Maeve nodded, feeling all blood rushing from her face. Lyn chuckled and shook her head in silence.

The lowlands around Tusk Ridge and the mountains of which the name Maeve still failed to ask was a waving ocean of green grass. With the sun bright and the sky a spotless glinting blue, it almost felt like there was no demon horde on the other side of the island. It almost felt like life was beautiful.

Maeve shook her head. All these dark thoughts only served to break her soul—though she had already been on the right path to it.

‘I must admit I’m not sure why you would take me with you,’ she wondered aloud. Lyn stopped for a moment, studied the sea of grass surrounding them, then picked the direction most suitable and continued their patrol.

‘Aren’t you a curious one. I thought I’ve already disclosed that. Your power wasn’t made to sit idly behind high walls. We can deploy your abilities best in the field.’

‘I fear that’s just not the way it should be used.’

‘You fear this, you fear that. Have you ever tried to push yourself to your limits?’

‘N-no. Not really.’

‘Why?’

‘Because… I’m afraid I would fail when my help would be needed the most.’

‘The world is bigger than what your fears bound for you.’

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Maeve remained silent.

The sun dragged through the zenith, soon starting to close to the horizon, leaving the world in a hue of crimson and gold. Maeve and Lyn reached a grove of everbeech; bloodred leaves hanging all over covered the place from the outside aplenty. The knight ordered rest—to Maeve’s great delight—and quickly ensured that the place had not been disrupted before. She gathered some branches and twigs for the night, then gave Maeve the tinderbox to light the fire before she disappeared without a second thought.

Maeve obediently followed Lyn’s instructions, soon blowing cinder to raise the intensity of the flames. The delicate crackling of the fire on dry wood waved into the silence, complementing it with a soothing presence instead of shattering it. Maeve took a while to indulge in that comforting sound; she did not even flinch when she realised night had fallen to the land, her little fire glowing as a beacon in the thick dark.

‘I honestly thought you wouldn’t be able to light the fire,’ came Lyn’s voice from the trees. The knight approached nearly without a sound, but Mave found herself calm enough not to jump from her skin.

‘I’m familiar with wood. But is it wise to let it burn? It might attract beasts. Or worse.’

‘Precisely.’

Maeve sighed. ‘You court death a lot, don’t you?’

‘We came here to look for threats. If there’s any, they’ll come. You can sleep. I’ll be fine.’

The knight sat and opened her satchel, giving Maeve a water flask with a piece of dried meat and cheese, and a handful of blueberries. Lyn pulled her knife and began eating.

‘Do you think we have any chance to leave Boar Isle?’ asked Maeve, quietly chewing on the cheese.

‘That mainly depends on whether you can breathe life into the gate Mindu is so obsessed with,’ shrugged Lyn. ‘The land bound by the barrier is quite narrow. If the demons spread out over the brim of the island, they deny us the chance of setting sails. That would have been my plan. I’m quite curious about the fate of the other towns. Do they stand? Have they been ravaged?’

‘Were you here when the destruction happened?’

‘I was. In Tusk Ridge, as Mindu and Khryssalan advised. Whatever did your King plot, it seems the mission was left incomplete.’

‘Mindu wouldn’t tell me anything about his dealings with Bryne,’ Maeve muttered.

‘Make him,’ Lyn shrugged while taking a sip from her flask. ‘He needs you to fix his portal. That’s something for something.’

‘But—’ Maeve began but was met with Lyn’s grunt.

‘No buts. Yes, I can guess, you don’t do things this way. You will from now on, then. Stop floating with the tide and put some efforts into swimming.’

The knight returned to her meal but soon hissed and dropped her knife.

‘Gods damn it!’

Maeve peeked; the knight was studying her fingers in the light of their compact campfire.

‘Let me see it,’ she offered, and to her surprise, Lyn nodded and extended her hand towards her.

Maeve held it in her own, first observing the wound—a narrow little scratch at the surface of the knight’s overly pale fingers, a wound so silly she wondered how the knight could do it—and opened her Well of Source. Faelin filled her, a thrilling sensation jolting through her body. Her Well soon found the essence of life pulsing in Lyn; and Maeve blinked, daunted.

Living beings emanated the most versatile senses when she would touch them, be it animal or human. An intermingling amalgam of feelings and impression, strong and vague, memories and worries. Feelings appeared as colours in her mind normally, memories as vague scents, worries as the hideous urge to vomit, a churning in the stomach, a tightness in the throat and chest. But Lyn… she was simultaneously bursting from the vivid vigour of life while her soul flickered, threatening with dying out any moment. She practically balanced at the edge of life and death. The storm of senses refused to give Maeve a single moment to analyse Lyn’s memories or feelings; she seemed to drown amid its waves.

Maeve snapped; she quickly rushed the essence into Lyn’s body, healing the wound in the blink of an eye, then let go of the faelin, sighing when the sudden sense of emptiness fell on her, blood still buzzing in her ears.

Lyn watched her in silent regard, her green eyes piercing Maeve’s soul. Maeve stared back, studying the knight’s face; the faintly thin eyebrows, the cheekbones just a bit higher than it seemed at first sight, the pointy but nonetheless small nose, the almost invisible dimple at the corner of the mouth, the narrow lips…

She noticed too many things. Unnecessarily.

‘You’re woman.’ The words slipped from Maeve’s mouth. Lyn grinned, ugly; this close her dimples seemed entirely visible and strongly characteristic.

‘You see much, girl.’

‘Why do you pretend to be a man?’

‘Have you ever heard about a knightess?’ Maeve shook her head. ‘Exactly. Most people are easy to deceive. Some,’ she narrowed her eyes, ‘are not so much.’

Maeve pulled her hands back, but the knight suddenly grabbed her wrists, steel grip fixing the girl in place.

‘What… what are you doing?’ Maeve whispered, panic suddenly jerking her body. Lyn softened her grip, but she still held Maeve’s hand firmly.

‘You’ve just given me a part of yourself. You’re less. I’m more.’

Maeve nodded, reluctant. ‘This is how my power works.’

‘This is what they led you to believe so that they could tap you whenever they feel like. Until you’re drained. Then they will toss you aside just like they would an empty wine bottle.’

Maeve held her breath; the knight’s words bore horror—and, she realised with growing certainty, truth.

‘The faelin doesn’t just give you random talents, girl. Gemstones can touch different aspects of life. So can you. No Reborn has one power. You command the very fabric of the universe. If you can restore it, so can you dismantle it.’

Maeve trembled. The idea was ridiculous, tasteless at best. Lyn must have sensed her thoughts; she gently tightened her grip on Maeve’s wrists.

‘Do it.’

‘What?’

‘Take it back.’

‘What?!’

‘Take back what you’ve given to me. After that,’ Lyn’s eyes glinted, ‘take more.’

Maeve swallowed. She half-heartedly attempted to escape from the knight’s hands, futile.

‘I’m not going to,’ Maeve whispered.

‘You will.’ Lyn’s voice sheer determination.

Maeve breathed out. It felt wrong. To restore life was the meaning of her life, that was all she had left, the last straw she was grasping at.

She opened her Well of Source.

There it was again, the tumultuous threads of life rampaging in Lyn. Maeve tentatively made a trickle of faelin connect to Lyn as though she was to heal her. The knight grunted instantly.

‘Wrong. Turn it over!’

Maeve, soothing the turbulent waves of the essence, stopped and grabbed the string between them; then slowly pulled it back.

‘That’s it. More.’

Maeve, cautious, pulled on the string again; this time it felt like she had just torn a part of Lyn’s essence and slammed it into hers. It felt invigorating, rejuvenating, like emerging to the surface after a long swim beneath water. Maeve gasped for air, tears welling in her eyes.

‘More.’

Maeve obediently pulled the string. This time she knew she had taken something away from Lyn; a gap opened inside the knight, but at the same time, Maeve felt something fixed inside her. As if a piece she was missing had just been found after years of longing.

‘More!’

Maeve gladly obeyed this time. She jerked the string; a wave of faelin washed over her as she snatched a chunk of Lyn’s life force. The knight released her hand, pushing the girl away. Maeve squealed after the sudden disconnection from the faelin, tumbling to her knees, gasping hard, cold shaking her body.

A comforting warmth immediately spread through her entire being.

‘Well done,’ Lyn breathed, sitting by the fire with legs stretched. ‘Well done, girl. There you are.’

‘That was…’ Maeve, kneeling, searched for the right words. Mesmerising, she thought at first, but then she realised what she had just done. ‘Horrifying.’

‘Say that again after it saves you from imminent death,’ Lyn grunted, closing and opening her fingers. ‘That was impressive. You might have been a bit too pushy, though.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I hope I taught you a valuable lesson.’ Lyn stood, stretching her neck left and right. ‘Have some rest. I’ll wake you at dawn unless there’s trouble sooner.’

Maeve instinctively wanted to object; instead, she nodded, rose, and searched her bag for a thin blanket.

She felt… different. It might have been an illusion or the adrenaline rushing through her veins, but she felt well-rested, and… fuller. Her body felt fresh, her mind less clouded, her chest lighter from all the burden she imposed on herself. Maeve feared it was a temporary condition, something that would pass by the morning; but for the time being, she felt quite… content.

She laid down her head, trying to ignore the questions this little affair roused.