The ensuing days passed by in a blur, much like they did for nearly everyone in the institution. The young girls were busy making last-minute adjustments to their outfits, while the staff busied themselves preparing for the arriving guests, some of whom had already settled into the spare chambers. According to Monique, these events, like that to regular human balls and galas, served as a platform for couriers and debutantes to mingle, though unlike the world outside of the institution, members were not required to seek out a marriage arrangement. This was a relief for Althea, as the thought of having yet another event dictated by finding a suitable courtier was a morbid thought, especially when she already had so much on her mind from her readings over the past weeks.
As she made her way to the training yard that morning, Althea prayed Arsalan didn’t have anything too strenuous planned. He had graciously given her tomorrow, Saturday, off from her routine to ready herself for the equinox ball. Though she would likely use the extra time in the morning to sleep in.
Today was their last day working on her heart meditation, and Althea was thankful for it. She was growing somewhat exhausted of the sitting and posing and ramblings of loving the world and people around her, especially when the ramblings were coming from someone as coarse as Arsalan. Althea's mind shot back to what he had spoken of a few days earlier. He had lost someone who he loved... maybe he knew more of love than she gave him credit for. He was still the last person she’d like to receive advice about love from though, considering he struggled to articulate his own emotions, making him ill-equipped to assist her in managing hers
She could see him meditating silently as the wind rustled through the leaves in the large oak tree, and through the long, now slightly brown grass of the field around them. She remained quiet for a moment, waiting for him to finish his set. Once he did, he spoke in a groggy voice, "good morning Althea."
"Good morning," she replied, setting down her bag of stones beside the massive trunk. Some of the tree’s leaves had fallen to the ground in an array of reds, oranges, and yellows. She wondered if he had just arrived here himself, judging by the low bellowing voice he gave her and the bags beneath his blue eyes. They weren't as icy as normal this morning, but almost... sorrowful.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked. This sparked his attention, and a bit of the usual sharpness to his features returned.
"Of course, why wouldn't I be," his lips turned up into his usual smirk, "I plan on finding a lovely lady to take to my bed at the ball tomorrow, what more could a man want." And his usual loutish behaviour had returned.
"Right," Althea rolled her eyes, standing before him now. "So what will we be doing today?" she asked, her hands resting firmly on her hips, awaiting orders. She silently prayed it wasn't more sitting meditation, though she wasn’t particularly interested in practising her combat training, she didn't know how many more tedious hours she could sit through his seemingly endless lectures. But she also didn’t want to be too sore to dance tomorrow.
"Today, we will be combat training," he said and she didn’t know whether to be happy or annoyed, "but we will be focusing on the way your heart and emotions react to certain situations." Oh joy, the worst of both, how nice of him.
Arsalan went on to walk her through the format of today's combat exercise. She practised it a few times, until he had decided she was ready to begin the bulk of today's training.
"Now, I am going to put your mind in various simulations to break down your response to those situations and why you feel the way you do as a result," he said, taking a step back from her. Great, this should be fun.
Suddenly Arsalan closed his eyes and whooshed his hands to the side. Althea fell backwards, falling onto her backside, in an attempt to step away, as he opened what appeared to be a portal. However, instead of them going in, someone came out. The blood drained from Althea's face, as Sir Herbert stepped through the portal and stood before her. He wore the same white robe he had worn the night she'd last laid eyes on him.
He snarled as he took a step closer to her. Althea scrambled to her feet and glanced to where Arsalan had stood seconds earlier, but he was no nowhere in sight. Althea squeezed her eyes shut, as if this would all disappear if she just thought hard enough. This isn't real, this isn't real. She repeated those words to herself silently before opening her eyes. The fear slowly slipped from her, replaced by an amplified, electric adrenaline.
She breathed in deeply through her nose as Sir Herbert took another step closer to her. On an exhale, Althea took swift steps towards her target. That's all he was, a target to defeat. Her feet moved at forty-five degree angles as Arsalan had taught her. Sir Herbert let out a low growl as he shot out a hand, attempting to push Althea's shoulder to knock her off balance. She launched herself downwards, dodging his strike and instead struck his knees with the palm of her hand. She didn't put enough strength behind the blow. She was still hesitating when she needed to be confident in her ability. If there was anything Arsalan had stressed the most, it was that your skill relies on your confidence. Her palm stung. Sir Herbert swung his leg back, and kicked it forward, attempting to hit her in the face. She could feel his foot graze her ear as she lurched to the side, just barely moving out of the way of his force. Luckily, the lack of impact of his kick, caused him to lose his footing slightly. Althea used this to her advantage. Moving quickly, and facing his back now, she had the upper hand. Don't blow this.
She lifted her leg quickly, coiling it to her body like a spring before using all of her momentum and force to kick the tall man in the back of his knees. The force of her swift kick vibrated through her body, only electrifying her more. She felt... invigorated.
Althea wanted to let out a gleeful yell as the man fell to the ground before her, but she knew it wasn't over yet, she had to keep him there if she wished to win this fight. The images from that night in his bedchamber rose to her mind. The way he had ripped open her tunic, speaking to her so vile. He was going to do as he wished without a single care. Her rage rose up within her as she let her imagination take hold of her mind. Images danced behind her eyes as she blinked once, images of what could have happened had she not fled. But she would not be running away this time. He sat up, starting to turn towards her as he rose from the ground.
Letting out a savage yell, Althea jumped onto his back, grabbing his right arm and bending it behind his back, pushing it up farther and farther, listening to the screams that erupted from the vile animal beneath her. He no longer deserved the title of man in her eyes. It surprised her slightly, not her anger at him, but at the way she revelled in his cries for help. The sound brought her such unprecedented excitement that she began wondering if it were her who was the animal in this situation.
Arsalan watched the petite girl as she kicked the backs of the man's legs. He was only a character from Althea's imagination, but Arsalan had used his abilities to temporarily bring him to life as a stimulant for her. He knew she needed to experience the threat if she were to use her training to its fullest potential. And Arsalan was not disappointed by what he observed. At first he had been a bit nervous, as she hesitated to use her full strength to her advantage, but now, watching her as she lunged forward, holding the man down beneath her, Arsalan wanted to cheer her on. He, of course, did no such thing, only watched as she grabbed the man's arm pulling it up behind his back. He screamed in protest, his other arm flailing and hitting her, but she did not let go. No, she didn’t even seem to notice the pain as she kept pushing harder, and as his cries increased in distress, Althea grinned. It was a wicked, twisted expression that made even Arsalan swallow. Her eyes began to glow with that amber fire within them. With her other hand she reached for the man's neck, digging her nails into his skin as she squeezed his throat. His yelling suddenly stopped, replaced by a choking sound and Arsalan's mind snapped from the trance of watching her. She would kill him if he didn't stop her, not that he was real, but nonetheless he didn't want that. Whipping his hand to the side he closed the portal quickly. Althea fell forward, the fire disappearing from her eyes as she studied the now empty ground before her.
"He's gone," Arsalan breathed out, catching her attention. She panted, still looking around frantically at the ground beneath her, as if desperate to finish what she’d started.
"What... how?" she stuttered looking to Arsalan. She bore a different semblance to him now. It wasn't as if he were looking at someone entirely new, but he beheld her with a newfound discernment. Althea was not the vulnerable girl he had presumed her to be… no, as he gazed down at her now, there was something wicked and primal behind that fiery gaze. And rather than inciting the fear he knew he should be feeling, this revelation only stirred some inexplicable fascination within him.
"I..." he paused, still taking in her slightly savage stance, "I opened a portal to show you something that I knew would prompt you to use your training. He wasn’t real."
He could visibly see her jaw clench as her face twisted from disgust, to something slightly more calm. He could see that... utter chaos, fleeing from her as the vermillion hue of her eyes returned to a deep green. He smirked at her, attempting to lighten her mood as he scratched the back of his neck and stared at the ground before them.
"That was..." he paused, looking back into her eyes, "well, I'll just say, you exceeded my expectations."
He could see that spark of excitement flutter through her, like a beacon of light. What he really wanted to ask was how in the hell she had mastered an attack like that on her first attempt. Even he had not been able to make it through his first stimulation without Keo having to end it early. Or his second for that matter. It had taken him three attempts to successfully win against the man who had haunted him... the same man responsible for the death of his parents. He closed his eyes and opened them a second later, looking back to the girl in front of him.
"I..." she swallowed, meeting his gaze at last, "I don't know where that came from." He could tell that as the adrenaline drained from her body, the realisation of what she had done, and what she had almost done, terrified her. Arsalan combed through his mind for any way to make her understand that it wasn't a bad thing to give in to the urge to seek vengeance against those who have hurt you. He knew she had likely kept all of that range pent up inside of her mind, too afraid to ever let it come out. He had done the same thing once, and it had nearly driven him to insanity. Sometimes taking out that anger in a controlled setting is what saves you from taking it out on someone else by mistake.
"It's always been in you Althea, I just gave you the proper platform to release it. We aren't designed to keep things inside, letting them build up within us. You have to let out that rage sometimes to keep yourself sane."
She picked at her nails, not meeting his eyes as she asked, "is that what you do?"
Arsalan nodded. "Yes Althea, it is what I was taught to do by my instructor, and what he was taught by his. If you keep those emotions inside, you can never fully heal from your past traumas. Whether it's anger, sorrow, or fear… even love. Or the loss of it.”
She looked up at him. He tried to conceal the melancholy look on his face, but he could see her eyes observing him closely. She didn't ask any questions though. He knew it was likely because when she did, he changed the subject or deflected. He was a hypocrite and he knew it.
Closing his eyes and breathing in deeply he said, "as someone who has dealt with a lot of loss, I know from experience what all of those built up emotions can do to a person. And I still sometimes struggle to release them in an efficient manner. For me it is not so much my anger or my fear, but the sorrow I hold inside. I hate talking about loss, I hate feeling vulnerable in front of anyone, even though I know that speaking of such issues can help relieve the pain."
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She didn't say anything, she just listened to him, intently. Her green eyes pierced into his now, causing him to look away.
"You can tell me," she spoke suddenly, then followed quietly with, "if you want."
He swallowed harshly. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to connect with her but it terrified him to do so. Without fully understanding his emotions towards her, opening up to her, giving her such a big piece of him felt... too intimate. He sensed that unlocking those emotions would reignite a longing within him, a yearning for affection and fulfilment. However, Arsalan grappled with the prospect of enduring another heartache if she didn't reciprocate his sentiments. His fondness for her company made the thought of rejection particularly daunting. During their conversation a few days ago, he had been sincere when expressing how she revitalised his spirit. He dreaded the possibility of losing that vitality due to his own misjudgment. And even if there was the smallest chance she returned the feelings he had for her, he’d made a mental promise that he would never allow himself to love someone with a like ability to his own… not after Amira.
"Maybe one day," he choked out and broke away from the trance her emerald stare put him in.
"Let's continue shall we?" he asked, about to take a step away from her when she said something that froze him in his place.
"Why don't they call us aevum anymore?"
He slowly let his eyes rise back to hers. Where had she heard that word? The Latin word for their kind hadn't been used in hundreds of years… not by anyone but the board... and very few people aside from the board members and those who had visited the past even knew the word existed. So the question arose, how could she have possibly known about it, unless...
Suddenly his face twisted with anger. "Have you been using your ability outside of training?" Arsalans mind raced as he awaited her response. How long? How long had she been hiding this from him? Without the proper training... even with the proper training rushing straight into that kind of time manipulation... he clenched his fists, trying to calm himself.
"What? No! I haven't!" she huffed, her brows curving downward as her angry stare bored into him and Arsalan breathed out, releasing his fingers. He swallowed, feeling himself begin to calm back down slightly at her reassuring words. He had witnessed too many of their kind succumb to madness due to the ability itself. The thought of her dying of her own insanity was too hard a thought to bear. But alas, the question still remained. If she hadn't been travelling through time, then how had she become acquainted with that word?
"Then how?" he pressed, "how do you know of that name?"
She raised a brow at his still harsh temperament. He didn't mean to come off as angry, he just hated how much he cared for her, despite his concerted attempts to keep his emotions at bay.
Her eyes were like daggers as she glared at him. "I found an old journal in the library from a girl who shared the same ability as us, and she referred to our kind as aevum," she retorted cooly, mimicking his own behaviour.
Arsalan furrowed his brows, wondering how old the journal could possibly be. He knew that the board had collected a vast amount of literature for their own Skyworth library over a century ago, leaving only the most basic texts for the majority of the cadre to read. The only people who were allowed to study the books they kept in Skyworth needed a signed letter from one of the board members themselves, as he and his parents had when gaining knowledge of the flame and various missions.
"When was this journal dated?" he asked curiously. She shrugged and he could feel her pulling away. She was likely wondering if telling him about this had been the right choice.
"I don't remember."
She was lying. He could read it all over her face. She didn't trust him. And why should she? What had he given her to earn her trust?
"I am not going to tell anyone of this mysterious journal, but I need you to be honest with me Althea. I know I... well I know I'm not the nicest person sometimes, and you probably don't trust me. But you can, okay?" Surprising even himself, Arsalan reached his hand out to take hers. Her skin was soft against his and her hand was warm. "I would never do anything to hurt you."
It was true. He knew he should have told the board members of any knowledge he had of her in relation to the flame, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to. He knew they would likely torture her for answers he wasn't even sure she had for them, and he could never relinquish someone to a fate like that unless he held true loathing for them. He wasn't sure what he witnessed inside of Althea, but he planned to decipher that for himself.
She breathed out a sigh.
"It took place over years, but I believe it started in 404CE."
404? And it was written in English? The official language spoken throughout the cadre at that time was still Latin. Someone had written the journal in English? Perhaps they had gotten trapped in the past, as he had heard some did when travelling through time.
"It was written in English then?" he asked just to be sure.
Althea hesitated before shaking her head slightly. He watched as her brown curls bounced from side to side.
"No... it was written in Latin." His face scrunched. But in that case, how had she interpreted the writing? His eyes scanned her face for any answer to his silent question. All he found was her innocence staring back up at him. Then she spoke, as if reading his mind.
"I don't know how, but I understood every word," she paused, looking at him briefly before continuing, "Arsalan, I have never learned Latin in my life." He went still at her words.
"The only language I ever learned as a girl was French, and even that was sparse. I just... I don't understand how I was able to read and interpret that journal. I’m beginning to feel I'm going a bit mad. Is there any correlation between our ability and being naturally bilingual?" she asked. Arsalan shook his head. He had never heard of such a thing in his life. He wished he could provide answers to her questions but he had no knowledge of the topic.
"No, I have never heard of that before I'm afraid." Arsalan thought back to all of his readings, trying to think of something, anything that would account for this oddity, but all he could think of was one book. It was a book on the flame written by someone with their ability who he had assumed must have gone mad, upon reading his theories. The man had hypothesised that whatever the flame was had to be sent through time, so far into the future that it could remain intact for thousands of years, remain protected and enchanted. The man had written that spells over objects fade as they pass through time, but spells placed on people, remain forever with their souls. He glanced back at the petite brunette girl in front of him. It couldn't be. There was no way she wouldn't remember if she had been sent through time... either that or she was very good at manipulating him and everyone else around her.
"What is it?" she asked, her big green eyes staring up at him with such innocence that it made him question his own judgement.
He blinked, forcing a cool expression over his features. If she had been manipulating him, now was not the time to give in to her easily.
"What year were you born?" he asked quickly. She tilted her head and raised a brow.
"Why, I was born in 1735 in Manchester," she answered, with a small laugh. "Have you gone mad yer self then?"
He needed to be certain there was absolutely no way she could be connected to the flame.
"What was your first memory as a child, and how old were you when this memory occurred?" Arsalan asked, not yielding his cool stiff stare at her. Her small smile faded and he could see her shift, standing slightly straighter.
"This is beginning to feel like an interrogation Arsa–"
"Just answer the question," he interrupted. He knew if he heard her say his name with such light warmth he would give in. It took everything within him not to break now.
Althea curled her upper lip in a slight snarl and spat the words at him with such vigour he wanted to recoil, "one of my earliest memories is my father reading to me in the courtyard of his estate. I was nine years old."
"Nine?" Arsalan asked. "Have you no memories younger than that?"
She shook her head, the disgusted look still evident on her face. "And you do?" she snapped.
"Going to the creek with my mother to do the washings, I was four, buying my first toy with my own coin, I was six, watching my parents burn to death in front of me, I was seven years old. I remember a lot from my childhood, Althea," he snarled back the last part at her. The thought of her being a part of the cause for all that had haunted him these past years made him want to scream out in agony. But not knowing was worse. If there was one thing he hated most, it was uncertainty.
She closed her eyes at his raw words. When she opened them, a silent tear ran down her olive skin, gleaming in the midday sun. She made no move to wipe it away. She only looked at him, appearing just as broken as he felt watching what he was doing to her.
"I'm sorry Arsalan." Her words were light despite the harsh tone he had spoken to her in. Her pink lips quivered as she sucked in a shaky breath through her mouth. He found it challenging to view her through any lens other than the one that portrayed her as a captivating, benevolent, and altruistic young woman. She was every bit of what Arsalan imagined an angel to look like with her perfectly carved features, and big green eyes that reminded him of the forest. Again he could feel his heart racing, begging him to trust her. She couldn't be evil, he wouldn't accept it.
"Yeah me too," he said, hoping she would know that he meant those words.
"There is something else I remember. It's a bit fuzzy though as I don't think about it very often and I never asked my father about it, or have even spoken about it to anyone before... But I have this odd memory of standing, on a cobblestone street in the middle of Manchester, the rain was falling around me and my clothes were wet and torn, when my fathers carriage stopped in front of me. I..." she paused, and Arsalan studied her, noticing now that she was trembling slightly. "I remember, he told me to get in and dry off... but I have this memory of him, he looked at me and he asked me, ‘what is your name young girl?’ It never made any sense to me why he would have asked me such a question, but I knew my name, I told him it was Althea, and then we went home. I never questioned anything about my life... as time went on, I told myself it was only a strange dream… but now," Althea sniffled and tears began falling down her cheeks, "now I don't know what's real and what's not anymore Arsalan." Her green eyes flashed with genuine fear as she looked into his, "I- I don't know and I'm starting to question everything and everyone I've ever known. I'm beginning to feel as if my entire life has been fiction and I've finally awoken to find that everything around me was all a lie." Althea choked out the last words before a sob escaped her quivering lips.
He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help himself, Arsalan opened his arms and engulfed her in a tight hug. Her light scent embraced him like the first warm breath of spring. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he craned his neck down to rest on her head. His heart broke as she let out a muted sob into his chest. He stroked her hair as she cried, not loosening his hold on her. He would let her be the one to pull away when she was ready. For now, in this moment he just stroked his fingers over those long brown curls, and did what he could to comfort her. After a few moments, her crying slowly came to a stop, and she pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she sniffled still.
"I'm sorry," she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.
"No Althea, I'm sorry. I should have never forced you into a corner like that, and I apologise. Please forgive me?" Arsalan could count on one hand the amount of times he had asked forgiveness from someone, but this was one time he knew it was necessary. He found himself longing to reach up and caress her smooth cheek which was still damp from her tears, but he stopped himself. Already he had allowed himself too much of her than he should have, he knew he was only creating later pain for himself.
"Yes, I forgive you," a small smile pulled on her lips, "and after training next week I will bring you to my bedchamber to show you some of the books I have found."
Arsalan hated that his mind had veered off course for the slightest of seconds at the mere mention of her bedchamber. He made a conscious effort to refocus, reminding himself that Althea would never be anything more than his trainee and, perhaps, a potential friend.
However, as they ended their training that afternoon and he followed her back towards the institution, his mind was overrun by thoughts of her. From everything she had told him today, to her possible relation to the flame, he couldn't rid her from his thoughts. Then there were the images he tried the most desperately to push away, some invented by him while he slept, others that he’d involuntarily saved in his mind. The smooth skin of her legs, leading up to her curved hips, as she bent over to stretch… or the way her cheeks flushed and those green eyes lit up when he praised her… or the way her full breasts bounced slightly as she practised her cardio. It took everything inside of him to look away when a sudden cool gust of wind whisked past them causing her nipples to harden beneath the thin training garbs she wore.
Arsalan, despite his desire to resist it, was profoundly and unceasingly mesmerised by Althea Lezant.