Syndra hadn’t been yelled at for years, certainly not since she arrived at the temple. Her cheeks burnt red, her eyes downcast, and her steps short. She trudged through the corridors, hurt, and embarrassed. To exercised such force but been thoughtless in execution. She had endangered everyone, Konigen told her as much, and she understood. The result may have been catastrophic, and in her blind excitement she had seen nothing, and had it not been for Konigen’s quick mind, she would have hurt someone, of that she was certain.

It wasn’t the first time after all.

Brought to a halt by an influx of memories, a time best forgotten. The girl soldiered on, avoiding the gaze of the other denizens of the temple she chose a longer and less travelled route to her master’s chamber. She would rather hide away, crawl into a cave and remain undiscovered, yet she had an obligation.

She climbed the stairs upward. The stone was slanted from centuries of use. Syndra had often wondered for how long people had been here, if Konigen inherited the temple, or if it belonged to someone else before. He would of course never give her a direct answer, not that she would have had much interest in that moment.

She stood in front of her masters sliding door. Breathing a ragged breath, before reaching out, and pushing the door to the side. Glad that she was here alone, while Konigen was finishing the lesson.

A waft of parchment, old linen and incents filled her nostrils. Her feet cold against the stone floor, but her body crushed by the oppressive heat of the Blackstone temple.

Looking about the small room, she located her master’s robes, hanging from racks by the wooden desk to the small porthole window. She picked out a robe that was much akin to the one she had ruined. She brought it down and folded it.

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Her mind, many miles and many months from her hands. Folding the grey and olive cloth, piece by piece, as she relieved the moment that sent her family far from home. Reliving an evening by The Ghost-Willow. The day she lost her brother.

She did not notice the air changing, nor the sudden winds in the room. All she could see through teary eyes were her brother, mangled and ruined. Her family was probably happy to be rid of her. Every emotion feeding itself eating at her.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at her master. With a breath she noticed the chaos in the room. Around her flew parchment, linen and what remained of the desk and stool. Clattering against the stone walls of the temple.

She felt a push against her chest, Konigen pressed a small object against her and all the objects clattered to the ground around her, the tug upon them having evaporated by her sudden awakening. Like the snap of a branch crushed underfoot she was back in the moment, having brought all the feelings of her journey with her. Konigen clasped either side of her head, and moved her gaze towards his.

“Are you alright?”

He was out of breath. Gasping for air.

She could not answer, she couldn’t bring herself to look upon him. Not through the shame and the guilt. She wanted to tell him that she’s fine. That she doesn’t need his help. That she can take care of herself.

But she wouldn’t lie.

Grabbing hold of Konigen to support herself was all she could. He was her raft. She sobbed into his arms and robes, well knowing that she would be the one to clean them later.

For now, that did not matter… For now, she was calm. She took a deep breath.