I stood in the shadows, watching a figure that sat quietly on his own in a cell, one of many here in the Confinement Hall. I had expected him to be in a specialised Healer Hall but according to Kine, the Healers were concerned that Wistra may have done more than she had already revealed to my uncle. Until they were absolutely sure that they had found and understood all of her tampering, they felt it was safest to keep my uncle confined, just in case. Still he was comfortable. Holding cells were rarely used, the Icanthie and most of the other races preferred behavioural rehabilitation or exile as opposed to incarceration, which had long been proven to be ineffective on its own. Regardless, the cells were designed to be places of contemplation, sparse and minimalist yet not cruel. The specially designed confinement barriers that covered the openings were opaque from both sides unless specific codes were input to allow transparency on either or both sides.

Currently I was watching Uncle Quix, standing a little ways back, only my side of the barrier transparent. The barriers also blocked sound, telepathy and scent so there was no chance he could know I was there, but still I felt the need to keep my distance for now. He looked a lot calmer than when I’d last seen him in the court room, broken and almost empty. Still there was a sense that he was fragile, that though he presented a calm front, he was held together by the flimsiest of substances. I really had no idea what to expect. Although I’d asked for this meeting, I really wasn’t ready to face him. I’m not sure I ever would be but I had to try. Something about Quix ate at me. I’m not sure if it was his role in my mothers death, her residual feelings about him that lingered quietly in my mind or something else but I couldn’t forget about him. What Wistra had done to him was beyond cruel, a violation of their bond and his rights… it was the stuff of horror stories and nightmares. I guess in the end I needed to know who he truly was. Who is the true Quix Kuthar?

Uncle Quix shifted restlessly in his seat, and my attention immediately flew back to the present. I watched closely, waiting to see what had unsettled him but he returned to his quiet contemplation. I frowned. Thinking about it, I had no idea if the containment barriers also blocked kin or kith bonds but the neo-bond I innately shared with my uncle was so weak, it was almost useless. Almost. Perhaps he did know I was here… I had to stop procrastinating and decide. I took a slow, deep breath, held it and let it out, counting to ten as I did. Ready or not, it was time to have a talk.

I walked slowly towards the barrier, still remembering to breathe calmly, and stopped just to the left of where my uncle was sitting, a good few steps back from the threshold. One last pause before I used the codes to make Uncle Quix’s barrier fully transparent and allow sound to pass through. He knew immediately that someone was there, but he took his time settling before he finally looked to see who was visiting him. When he saw me, he froze and emotions flashed across his face too fast to see them all, but I detected pain, disgust, longing, hope, sadness and anger before he finally settled on a familiar cold mask, though it was not as foreboding as I remembered it.

“Hello Uncle Quix.” I said quietly.

There, I’d done it. I’d made a start. And no matter what happened, I’d tried. I waited patiently as I watched Quix process my presence and words. He gave little reaction but I’d been advised to take it slow with him and not overload him. His mind was healing and he might need longer to form his responses. I had limited time for this meeting, both to make sure it didn’t tax Uncle Quix too much and because he had another session with the Healers later. It would be a tiring rotation for him. Eventually, Quix answered me.

“What are you doing here little m- ch-child… of my sister?” Quix asked, catching himself before he could utter the usual insults. I wasn’t sure why he held back but it gave me a little hope. At least he wasn’t consumed by blind rage and vitriol. We might actually be able to have a discussion.

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“I wanted to see you, so I asked to visit.” Quix looked away, his face scrunched up a little. His distress worried me, I didn’t want to set him back or do him any more harm. I can’t imagine what the mental assault of mother’s memories had done to him on top of Wistra’s meddling. Knowing what I know now, I felt even worse about that, though I had little control at the time. “If you wish, I will leave.”

“No!” Quix turned back to me, a little awkward but insistent. “No, don’t go yet. You’re all that’s left of her, you and young Sethairoth. You’re all… that’s-” he trailed off, staring off into space, probably lost in memories. I waited, mindful of the Healers advice but he still didn’t speak. I was about to try and start another topic when, finally, Uncle Quix spoke. “I betrayed her. I was weak and couldn’t be the brother she needed.”

I shook my head. “You weren’t weak Uncle. I’m not saying that everything’s alright and you did nothing wrong. But you had no way to fight what Wistra did to you. None. Do you hear me? You can take responsibility for some of it but not everything…” Quix didn’t respond but he was listening. “Mum still loved you, you know, at the end. She was angry and hurt but she chose to remember you as the brother she loved, the happy childhood you shared before everything broke. I don’t know if it helps but I thought you should know.”

“I know. I felt it when… when you… the memories.” I nodded, not making him talk about that difficult experience. I knew exactly what he had gone through. “I don’t deserve it. She should have hated me. I hate that she let me off.”

“Oh I don’t think she let you off, you experienced her memories, you know how she felt about this and she didn’t even know about Wistra’s nasty meddling. But hating you… that wasn’t who mum was. I think you know that Uncle Quix. She’d rather see you heal and be a better individual than condemn and hate you.”

Silence stretched between us as we both nursed our own thoughts and memories. I sighed and crouched down to sit on the floor, stretching out one leg and wrapping my arm around the other bent leg, resting my chin on my knee. Mum’s memories tied us together, a shared experience, a shared pain. Though it was never her intention, it seemed oddly fitting that mum’s last act was a bridge between the divided members of her kin. A resolve solidified in me that I would not waste the foundation she had unwittingly laid, though I would not force it to succeed. Bridges went both ways.

“Wistra is not my kin.” Quix’s low voice broke me out of my thoughts. “She must be a-aah adopted or something. Kin wouldn’t do that to each other.” He sounded small and broken and my heart ached for him. How could it not when he was obviously in so much pain?

“Oh uncle…” I paused, letting out a little sigh and moving to rest my forehead on my knee briefly before looking back up at him. “That’s not how it works. Being kin doesn’t make us infallible and sharing blood doesn’t make us kin. All it does is make the initial bond form a bit faster. But it’s how we nurture and strengthen that bond that makes us kin. When mum left, to protect us from retribution, I learned that nothing is forever. But I also learnt that I had more kin than I thought I had. My kin were those who I chose and who chose me. Those bonds are some of the strongest I have, even now. Wistra may have betrayed you, but she is still your kin because you have that bond, you’ve both chosen to keep it. If you look inside, you can still feel it. It will always be there… unless you choose to break it. She may change and that bond will be there, connecting you still, as strong or as weak as you make it. But she may not change.” I swallowed. “Breaking a bond hurts, more than you can imagine, and the scar will stay with you for the rest of your life, a constant reminder. Though you could build a new bond with the same individual, that broken bond will never live again. If you don’t want Wistra as kin, you have the power to be free. Something to talk to the Healers about perhaps. I’m sorry you’ve suffered so much at her hands.”

We fell again into a quiet waiting, chewing over our time together. I wasn’t sure what I had expected from this meeting, but I was mildly surprised and pleased that it had been so calm, though perhaps not amicable. Behind every word my Uncle spoke, I could hear light tones of the old, bitter dislike. I suspect it would be a long time before he knew what his own feelings were and how he felt about the Myath and I. And until then, I wouldn’t know how I felt about him but that’s okay. Friendships, relationship, bonds, they took time. I had time.

“… She doesn’t have many bonds, doesn’t care for them or work to grow them. She doesn’t care. Why didn’t I see it?”

I was stunned into silence. Bonds for the Icanthie were fundamental. Most of the races were naturally social societies and the bonds were usually a necessity for a healthy life and mentality, though there were exceptions. They were rare but perhaps Wistra was one of them. Even still, those exceptions usually had some bonds that were very strong. We were all unique so I couldn’t really know if Wistra’s state was healthy or not, but to have done what she did, something there wasn’t right.

“Child, why did you come here?” Quix asked, sounding weary.

“… I’m not entirely sure. I think I just wanted to know…” I stalled, unsure how to go on.

“Know what?” He asked, now staring intently at me, leaning forward a little.

“… I wanted to know who you really are Uncle Quix. I wanted to know who you are to me.”