Another day, another cart commandeered for the sake of having somewhere nice to sleep in. The unforgiving nights never got any easier, even as the flames within started becoming a useful tool, no longer something to fear with every passing breath.
It was on one particular night however where I found the exact wrong cart to hide in for slumber. What appeared to be a humble merchant’s transport left at the side of the Durkich channel was a possession of the very people that made it their life’s mission to destroy me. Nature and the common man at least vowed to kill me for practical justifications - I looked like a tasty snack, I threatened them with a knife for their salted meats, I spilled three pints of beer on their untended crotches in the noble cause of repelling them from desperate maidens and patriarchs seeking social status through financial bondage. The Wardens just wanted to kill me before even getting to know me, like a rabid beast in commandeered armor.
I woke to the sound of several younger boys checking the carts half heartedly, pulling open the curtain and stepping a tenth into the wooden frame, only peering over with outstretched necks but no feeling with reaching hands. My carelessness in many ventures didn’t extend here however - I had a braid to hide my form from the eye; something I liked to call the “kindly forget me nows”. As they dispersed, I looked to the pendant mirror in my hand and saw that it was a crack away from its last use. A forger, alchemist or studious mage would know how to slow down this process of braid rust, but not I. I’m just some luck dependent moron that can destroy things indefinitely.
As I peeked from my shelter, the torch posts were extinguished one by one by a man with an iron bucket of water. A few minutes passed before a door closed and the sound of a lock reverberated across the stone floor tiles separated by metal bars. Upon rolling out, the first thought made no delay in announcing its tone from my lips. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m in the train center. I shouldn’t have been that close to Sarengound. The darkness of the open sky was covered by the metallic ceiling that hung over the house of tracks, meticulously crafted by hand or obscure braids before being tethered to the sky and held until those previous methods could build the pillars.
The tether boxes were the only source of light in the compound, hanging on every corner and then the ten steps that lead away from the last. Even then the light wasn’t bright, seeming to contain its own rays and never push beyond - like a shield, a wall that only stands in perfect uniformity, painted on the world and unbothered by wind or time. Beneath the painted lights were the stone walls and the gates of metal rings that marked the exits. A tower held view from the center of the stone field, holding dominion over low roofs that hid the metal giants that screamed along the rails. The shining metal felt like a brag of luxury compared to the settlements that laid around the Center Strip, with more to show being made. Part of the wall behind the trains had been demolished to make way for another set of tracks in the making.
That opening would be my easiest way out but a secondary glance at the tower informed me of a ballista aimed directly there and at the opposite gap. Two holes, two guards, many bits of me splattered onto the ground if caught. Then it arrived: that terrible man in my thoughts that always spelled trouble, the one that denied just using my braid and making a mad dash for the tracks. There’s bound to be some confiscated goods in this place. The other stray thoughts with a voice placated and stated the obvious that running in the dark would be an awful idea to begin with - those creatures of muck - the Vacuous were out there, they could smell me perfectly, and using fire to defend myself this close to a Warden breeding ground was just asking for death later.
I dashed between the long buildings that stretched across the grounds, keeping my head low and peeking through whatever finger sized holes I could make. Those juvenile workers were pushing carts with cloth bags strewn about on the top haphazardly, a few falling as they turned corners in the dark room. Meager light came from a lantern trembling besides a voice that chastised the boys for the fallen treasures. The fully grown man of the building mentioned that the Wardens needed these items in the most pristine condition possible. Moving further along the wall, I burned another hole to peek inside and the boys continued along until they reached a loose tile in the floor that descended into the ground. The slow steps of the elder’s exit outside and grinding of the stone platform persisted for even longer than I could tolerate - my skittish thought bubble with half a plan putting me into action. Slithering through the closing door and quickly scanning the room, I jumped into the hole with a braid that Gina made for me - steel fingertips that secreted a muting putty and glued me to surfaces until I moved again. The sons of Warden casters were far below, the squeaking tracks after the grinding metal wheels on stone prompting a strong press on the ears.
Oh yay, my favorite. I crawled out of the lift shaft and slammed my sticky fingers on the ceiling - feeling my stomach drop, the heat in my head dissipate and cracks in my elbows and wrists ring out. My legs hung, swinging back and forth as I ripped one hand from the ceiling and lurched forwards a few times until I reached a web of pipes connecting in some way to every corner of the room. Some led to coal burners, others to conveyor belts occupied by other caster folk and an excess of items, the remaining pipes disappeared into the ceiling to reach the sky. The machinery underneath was as elaborate as the metal monsters above, with trays of gold, braids and armor plundered from fallen kingdoms during Jeremiah’s reign. The insignias and symbols were burned off, the metal plating melted and reforged in sealed metal coffin blacksmithing spaces. I envied their stockpile, being in nothing more than a black and red robe I adopted as my own when a thief was exiled from my band. Guess I know what I’m shopping for then. Don’t worry Wardens, I’ll just say I’m browsing.
Even so far above the noise, it started to erode away at the concentration needed to regrip a pipe a hundred times. I was never claustrophobic, it was a fear forbidden by any thief worth the coin - but the underground chamber's bleakness cut all pleasant breath from my insides. The rock-dug room was a dead white revealed by tether boxes that only gave corners the full radiance. As for the workers, their own Guiding Lights would have to be contained within lanterns as they moved from aisle to aisle, station to exit.
I was certain my breath was still bountiful in the room but my pace hurried regardless, gripping and latching myself onto the pipes with my legs and looking below upside down. The far corner of the room predictably held the best harvest, with braids even shining against the pressing darkness. My own in the form of a bottomless purse shook with excitement as well as haste as I pushed on further, confident in the obscureness my form retained before the tether boxes rays. My cover would end however as the tether box was planted on my downward path. My “forget me now” shattered upon its last use, but to my ultimate dismay - as I let myself down the wall, the box revealed me to the men below - a vague outline and the suspicious gray goo following its fingers.
Panicked and scattering up the wall as they threw their lanterns and summoned the guards, I produced a shield of flame but the power leaked from my construct - spitting all over the surrounding area. The belts of leather ferrying the braids caught ablaze, the stone floors melted and screams reigned supreme in the ceaseless noises. Smoke came fast, with all the workers and the militia men sworn to protect them forsaking their duties and running to the elevator.
The damning opportunist in me detaches from the wall and grabs what I can into the sack - a few dozen trinkets and random sets of armor fill the endless void within leather. As a thousand possible sales melt on the other side of the line, I make peace with what I have before completely panicking again as I watch the workers shove each other around as they try to fit onto the platform going up. The third ascent passes after the last of the workers still alive leave, some choking on the smoke faster than I could. Cursing and slamming my fist against the control, the elevator refuses to come back down. My breath tastes nothing like what I need to live - so I hurriedly fire upon the closed shaft and melt away the stone. A stupid idea ensues as I point my hands downwards and desperately give myself a boost into the air. My feet leave the ground, but only because I managed to slam myself into the wall nearby - dislocating my shoulder upon entering the now malleable white.
With my healthy arm, I burned my way farther and farther from the depot - stopping just as dirt started to show itself above my head. Poking a hole into the ground, a tasty breath was enough to send me into slumber even as the pain in my shoulder screamed for attention. My head swam with sounds of the possible outside world - Vacuous upon the plains waiting to dig me up when they heard my haggard breath, Wardens investigating the fire and finding my new hiding spot, a spire somehow erupting upon me just to solidify my bad luck. Were these all possibilities happening right now or bruises upon my thought cage that might draw blood? All that thought for nothing as the most comforting darkness came.
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My eyes closed for far too many hours after what I would hesitate to call an escape. I cursed to myself a thousand times, my occasional reassurance that I wasn’t in Warden hands failing to break the surface of a begrudging ocean. How I wasn’t buried or dragged from my dirt and rock bed was a question I didn’t bother hanging on to as I punched and climbed my way to the surface with my one good arm and shoulder. Occasional mouthfuls of dirt couldn’t stop the desperation of being nowhere close to here. I still marveled at the sky uninterrupted by Warden weaponry in my immediate vision and scrambled, sparing the train station a momentary glance as the small group of Wardens and militia dedicated themselves to the aftermath of my destruction.
In some places, one could sell braids for services but Sarengound was a risky proposition considering who funded the housing and enforced the laws primarily. Some silver coin would be surrendered as I walked into the abode of a mender, the fancy name for a doctor trained by the knights. Younger than me perhaps, just shy of two decades at most, with a round face and brown hair. Her quiet voice and hovering tendencies put me on edge, thinking she would call the guards on this strange looking man wearing only a red cloak, black set of trousers and a cloth shirt. It was likely that she was freshly graced and I was the worst one she saw so far - from what I knew, closing wounds was easy, fixing bones required a different knowledge. I had fixed shoulders with booze, a tree or any other hard surface willing to endure my effort but a quick fix was what I needed before leaving this town. After circling me for minutes, the gal finally put her hands on my aching shoulder without any remedies to alleviate the pain. The bone cracked, the muscle shifted but at least I felt complete after biting my own arm flesh to suppress the screaming. Somehow the tree and liquor still felt more worthwhile.
I had slept for so long in the ground that night had started to approach once more, and with Wardens walking the streets and asking questions before holding an assembly, I spent the rest of my silver at the nearby tavern and secured myself a room. One pint would be my way to calm my nerves as I navigated past the drunken company hopefully not worth interrupting. Scholars and laborers occupied the stools and impromptu singing overpowered any attempts of conversation. Taking my drink, I sauntered to my room with a low head, and a sore frame. I expand and empty my sack of braids onto my bed. In my desperation, only the armor was something I took in with a careful eye. It would sell all the same away from Warden eyes, but there was a demand to keep some and destroy others. Gina once told me of the Guild of Gold Intent as a way to make money interrupting these operations - pillaging some braids for their own use and destroying others before the little instances of magical might could instigate a war instantly. Before we parted, I found the Guild to be a strange idea - their own brand of neutrality was a false one at best - they just kept the thief, boundless barbarian and witless warriors working across the lands, kept the Wardens weaker than the absolute lights they strived to be.
That would be many more miles south and a few west, and even then, how hard would it be to hide my true self with company there at every step? As soon as my flames become visible, the façade of camaraderie could fall to simple greed, even if it's paid by the men they hate.
Is it my only option? One could only wander for so long as Darren would often say. If those questions can’t be answered, then I should find answers to other questions not even asked - relating somehow to purpose and want.
What I am, who I am, where I am supposed to be - these are all questions I’ve asked a thousand times and somehow the answer becomes even harder to forge. Even the most drowned of thought cages know themselves better than I ever do. This became so apparent after I achieved two decades of existence, but the two years that followed gave nothing to celebrate besides a new bed, a new gang, a reason to move elsewhere.
When others would talk of their families, mothers, fathers and brothers - I realized I had little personal grasp on the topic. Their faces are such a blur, I do not know if they are their own or what I created from other’s stories. Defiance staked a claim in my thought cage however - declaring that I once had a stable home, my voice was once tinged with innocence as I was held by these foggy bits of humanity.
The sour taste of my drink forced even more introspection - if this was all a problem I was aware of, why do I still continue after this and countless disasters? For the sake of profit or gratification? No, cause I have no fucking choice and death is too much to comprehend. The memories beyond my thirteenth summer were all I had now and if that may one day fade too - so be it.
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Preservation was never the Warden’s strong suit, clumsily painting over the picture of yesterday and claiming that the old colors still shined through their current visage. Upon my pilgrimage, I found many ruins separated from the world by guards too tired to falsify vigor until I came into view. A simple question would always be given a violent reply, which made their claims on giants in their ranks seem to only be made for the humans that asked. Much as they claim otherwise, the Wardens never intended to make robes that would fit my kind’s frame. As they fell after one thrust of their pitiful blades, the fabric would stay in my bag until I needed a repair. Mud and snow stained the ends of my previous garb rather quickly, making my cloth sag enough to fall off my shoulders occasionally.
The blackened stone of this kingdom would be marked upon my map before I was interrupted by another Warden, labeling me a thief and carelessly casting simple arrangements of tether and scrap at my chest even as I held their sacred texts to my chest. Eager learners mocked and damned by these fanatics. Dashing away the miserable pile of metal with my hand, I realized these lowly soldiers weren’t even proper siphons, manipulating their own pocket change in hopes of cutting me.
Fools bereft of thoughtful action when the battlefield didn’t lay its boons out plainly. A silly thing my mother used to say of other tribes up north, but it stuck with me regardless. Their meager manipulations were a child’s trick compared to the storms I could already summon with my siphoned loads, wielding ice in these dry lands, a path to the spire that consumed my first home.
Their efforts dashed, the decorated veterans came as support - bearing braids of their own design. Their thoughts were unprotected however, so I dodged and redirected their passing binds of lightning and ground gathering projectiles and smashed one into producing a red splash through their metal armor and onto the scalded grass. A blade met the back of my head, a gleeful madness overcoming me as I turned around and saw the wielder trembling in fear at his failure to cleave my skull in two. The guard dropped his sword and ran as fast as he could, the armor jangling and weighing down his weary strides. Wrapping my tethers around his legs, I dragged him back before launching the body in the other direction at the other fleeing novice.
I could still hear their cries as I wrapped up my belongings, old and new and made my way further south. Begging came once I passed the pair bound until death by their mutual agony. One even offered to pay me all of their coin to bring them to a mender, forget all about what happened. Walking onward, the deal was sweetened by offering their own armor as well, an item to be sold in the witch towns. My bag was filled to the brim with their wares and pieces of steel, having the guts to complain about the way I took them off of their shattered bones. Screams, curses and threats were even louder than their previous pleas as I left them to their own fate, bending the metal shin and shoulder guards to my own desires as I strode on.
With the texts in my bag, I made my way further south while the complaints and threats of death faded with every long stride across the green fields. Curves on the horizon in either direction compelled my exploratory self but a bed to sleep in would have to do for now. The Vacuous would never let me be long enough to draw a vista, take a few pages of notes, or take all I want from the lost kingdoms and settlements.
An hour had passed before I reached the town known as Sarengound, bolstered by one of the few wooden signs I had seen so far on my travels. Most town names I gathered were from the few town folk willing to hear my questions, marking it on my map and referencing the one that Witch Duri gave to me before I departed, a fairly detailed parchment that ended right before this destination. Streets were marked with stonework and every building I could see was given a small tether box. The town square was a memorial to the creation of Sarengound, when it would more accurately be a reconstruction from the inscription on copper - being established before but given stability again after Jeremiah’s campaign destroyed it. As far as I’m aware, that name doesn’t mean anything but it has importance now after the reconstruction.
Menders positioned themselves across the road from the taverns and smiths, those trained under the Warden’s watchful eye - forsaking the healing sands and herbs that Duri and others taught me to use up north. Under the blankets of snow and above the ice, some treasures laid from foolhardy travelers from far away lands, some plants still grew defiantly, their stems and thorns poking through the foot of white by the border. Without those, one would have to rely on their proficiency of tethers to push and pull the skin and bone. From the one time I broke a hand while falling from the mountains surrounding the ice spire, I can say from experience that moving your frostbitten fingers back into place without a white sand or a violet urndabloom will have you cursing every god in the sea, sky and dirt for days.
“Pilgrim!” A voice from in front drew my attention from the shops. I looked down to the trio of armored humans in front of me, their shorter selves failing to register on my purview. “Welcome to the center of man’s tetherwork, Sarengound.” The speaker of the group abandoned their helm, revealing a long mane of golden hair and a small set of blue eyes. “What brings you here?”
“Just exploring the world, dear Warden. Curiosities over anything else.” I replied, eyeing the two guards who kept their helms on - the narrow slits over the eyes and mouth hiding their discontent. Their minds were laid open before my own invasive curiosity though. The leader gave me a doubtful look as I tried to read her as well, her speech interrupting my receival.
“Just be careful on your journeys, giant. The lands are rife with the Vacuous and the remaining vile that hope to interrupt peace for their own short sighted satisfaction.” I simply nodded my head. “But you look like a capable traveler to have made it this far from home. Familiar with ground shaping and tetherwork perhaps?”
“Oh, do the late learners want to teach me on how tethers work, perhaps?” And there goes my tongue making trouble for myself. The insecure guards tensed, gripping harder onto the halberds by their side. The matriarch simply laughed at my comment.
“Forgive me if that was the suggestion, I just wondered if you giants figured out something outside of tether work, being surrounded by the endless snow.”
“Maybe the next batch of young will figure it out.” Giants were the first ones to figure out this whole discipline of manipulating the world, this magic. The Wardens however beat us to making the everlasting light boxes, their tether magic as a repellent.
The matriarch tilted her head at me while resting her hand on her chin. “You’re a voidborn child, aren’t you?”
Born close to void, damned to destroy. That wasn’t at the front of my mind before she said that, I don’t know how she could possibly surmise that. “The blacks of my eyes are on the rest of my people as well, I assure you.” I replied with a mock point to my face.
“No, no, no.” She replied with a comical shake of the head. “You see, I can read the minds of my men, the people in need, and the betrayers. I can even know the thoughts of a meager dog, a ferocious bear, and more.” She raised her iron-clad fingers to me. “But you are impregnable, a wall. And I would never be so rude to assume you are empty up there.”
Or perhaps I’m invulnerable to your secondhand techniques. Hold your tongue, fool, you need a place to stay, not a violent delay. She was regrettably correct, I wasn’t born in the village but in a cave after my mother fell from a mountain, erecting walls to protect herself until she healed but I delayed such a speedy recovery by coming into the world. The Vacuous spawned all around her but her walls yielded their attempts at a meal until the day banished their gangly forms. “My mother’s a dynamic sort, and life is nothing without the unexpected messes.”
I said nothing more when the matriarch nodded her head. “Perhaps on your travels, you would like to join us at the academies on the eastern peninsula, by the Five Split River.” I could already hear the disapproval in her cohort’s thoughts. “You could learn a thing from us and we could learn a little more about voidborn folk like yourself. Being born so close to our enemies is nothing to scoff at, perhaps you’re more attuned to the world that way.”
“Perhaps, what is your name, dear Warden?” While her ability to read minds was nothing new to me or giants, she did have a strong defense against my attempts - natural or otherwise.
“Emile, and you are?”
“Ashaleah.”
She offered to shake my hand but backpedaled when she realized that my hand would eclipse hers and the forearm. Moving forward, I gazed at the taverns in front of me, feeling the light of the day drain quickly. The two nearby appeared to be brother brothels, similar in shape but contrasting in color. The one on the right was a dull color and was appropriately called The Gray, while the one on the left, separated by a narrow factory, was a dark green, naming itself The Jade. I’d be surprised if I walked into both and didn’t find identical twins of every working member, perhaps with different colors of beards, aprons and silverware. Or perhaps that was nothing but funny elder tales. After little deliberation, I walked into The Jade and bartered my way to a room with a near-sighted scholar, giving up a useless assortment of tarnished gold for some actual coin. Tell a drunk man tall tales of old Warden treasures and he’ll surrender his purse easily.
In my acquired room, I drew out Duri’s map and started to mark the rivers and slopes I could remember. Emile stuck in my mind for a little while as I added unnecessary detail to the parchment, wondering if she knew the small patches of fur and cloth above my feet were from her own comrades. Jeremiah’s castle was far out, and those knights are likely dead by now. My needle and metalwork was enough to make my robe a combination of the two styles, my black on their white and sky blue, and the armor mostly laid underneath the cloth. Perhaps useless in a land where the blacksmith can’t hope to slay me, but one must always be prepared.
The noise downstairs started to amplify, but I did my best to start writing my letters to mother.
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“Your attention, people of Sarengound!” The demand was bellowed after the front door was thrown open with such force, I could hear the bolt break and the knob crack into the wooden wall. “We have a heretic in our midst.” Silence greeted the loud gentleman, the clanking of chains and shuffling of armor was all that filled the room. “A dragon butcher! A god killer!” Gasps and hushed questions came in response. “They tried to burn our good work, lay their malice on our machines, and waste our trade.” Heavy footsteps echoed off of the floor below and forced the squeaks from the wooden stairs. I reached for the lock on my window but found no such device, nothing but a blank sheet of glass. Could melt it quietly. Or I could just muck it up again. “Witnesses described the butcher as short, wearing a dark red cloak. Has anyone seen one of that description?” My mind was made, my foot pushed against the bottom of the window frame. Slowly I pushed the glass sheet out of place, as it fell, I gave another quick kick to send it flying further, muting the shatter somewhat. In a few seconds, I was on the roof of the tavern and shimmying my way around the brick building nearby. No braid would save my visibility, and a quick look to the streets made me wonder if sleeping on a roof would be a better option. Men and women clad in armor patrolled the streets, the genuine articles compared to what I’ve encountered before. Tether torches held high, with rays crawling across the empty air towards the windows of every house, demanding cooperation with the townsfolk. I quickly hid on the backside of the factory tower as the lights started to tip towards the roofs. When the lights retreated from the Jade’s roof, I made my jump only to discover the wooden tiles couldn’t hold my sudden weight.
The dust and pollen from many dry days blurred my vision as my rear slammed into the floor of the tavern room. I rubbed my eyes to see a strange being before me - skin pale as snow, long black hair down to their waist, eyes holding a deep blue over a sea of black nothingness, and towering over me, her head craned at an angle to avoid headbutting the ceiling. I was not the welcome sight in the room though, having one of their hands immediately around my throat and pushed up against the top of the wall. “Who the fuck are you?” A feminine voice in a whisper, raised to a speaking tone when I didn’t answer right away. “Are you some kind of thief, trying to take everything a traveler has?” My mind was still in full panic mode, not knowing what to say. “Huh?!” Her grip tightened and I slapped her arm, hoping she would give mercy but she just asked more questions. Desperation beckoned flame as I slapped her flesh again. “Ow! Bastard!” She looked at her arm, wide eyes scanning the burnt flesh on her flawless skin. I made a jump for the window only for her to thrust her arm forward, curl her fingers back and demand for me to stop - my mind said no but my body immediately ceased, with every attempt to move my muscles failing, my bones warning they’d creak if I tried anymore.
“Please.” I said in a low tone, shaking under her gaze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you…I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Her eyes scanned me up and down, her spare hand feeling the burns on her control arm. “You’re the one that they’re looking for.”
“Yes, I know, but they won’t reward you, please, I-” A knock came at the door, followed by a gruff voice complaining of noise. She looked at the door but for a moment before turning to me and mouthing the words: Take off your clothes and get under the blanket. “What?!” She mouthed it again before making a throat cut gesture, releasing her control of me. Now.
She answered the door, to which a bald man stumbled back upon seeing her size. “Uh…ma’am, is everything to your liking up here? I just heard a-a lot of crashing up here.”
“Bed could be bigger but I don’t expect you to have one. Now can I spend the night with my lover in peace? He’s eager and waiting.” She made a quick hand gesture and the man looked inside, my red hair and green eyes being the only thing he could see. He simply nodded his head and asked for us to not break anything else, failing to comment on the hole in the ceiling. As soon as his footsteps faded away, I sat up from the bed and didn’t know what to say. Eventually she broke the silence by throwing her arm forward again and binding me against the wall while she sat on a tiny stool in the room.
“So what’s your name?”
I sighed, the rambles of fear still overwhelming my mind, realizing I traded one torture for another. Stories on giants went from the mundanely vague to the absurdly horrific, and I’d avoided them for a long time - never seeing one up close. This one was more than twice my height and could easily split me in a thousand ways. There was a strangeness about her look - more than just being a tall human, like there was bone just underneath the skin of her chest everywhere, even stretching down to the waist. Less threatening were the pointed ears and eyes that told what the brow would for me.
“I’m not turning you in, if that’s what you’re still thinking.”
“Then would you please let me go and be on my way?” A feeble attempt to break the invisible hands she had on my body. “And how do I know you’re not lying about that?”
“Because I owe nothing to those self-appointed executioners. Siphons and casters shouldn’t bow to them, and neither should pyromancers.” I knew I wouldn’t be able to fake those wounds, but it still shocked me regardless to hear someone else say my secret.
“My name is Alu, and you are?”
“Morrigan, of the Kasteros house. No familial name, Alu?”
“I know not of my family, nor my origin. As far as I’m aware, I just came into being and everything around me has been trying to undo that.”
A small smirk came upon her face. “Then we can help one another.”
“Why, so I can owe you something after tonight?” Wrong answer, replied to with a punch to the groin and a pull of my hair.
“It wasn’t an offer.” A low tone accompanied the flash of her teeth, inches from my face, two from the top were extremely sharp and stretching over the bottom. “And you’d have to be pretty stupid to think you have a chance of escaping everything else tonight.” She lets go of my hair and pushes my head into the backboard with one finger. “So tell me, Alu, how fucking stupid are you?”
If my limbs could move, they’d droop in surrender. “What can I do for you, Kasteros?”
“Splendid.” A childish grin replaced her grimace in an instant. The binds on my body loosened, and as I felt myself over for injury and comfort, she pulled out a map and splayed it on the wall. “Light, please.”
“I, uh…” The events of last night still haunted me. “I…don’t have good control of my powers…”
She tilted her head at me, perplexed, disappointed, a range of emotions if I had to guess. She opened her mouth to ask something but stopped herself, rubbed her chin and started again. “Try anyways, I’ll be able to help control it.” She saw the hesitation in my face, my quiet protest before hovering her hand over mine and asking again anyways. Closing my eyes and trying to focus, a ball of flame erupted instantly, threatening to consume Morrigan’s hand as it expanded out of mine. The giant remained calm however and shaped the fire, condensing it into a ball small enough to hover over her fingertip.
“H-how did you do that?” She only greeted me with a smile before illuminating the map as she intended before. “Are you secretly a pyromancer as well?” I almost jumped out of the bed at the thought of knowing another one, before remembering my naked self. She giggled at the suggestion.
“No, no, I’m just a siphon. In tune with the elements around me, even the blood in our bodies, but don’t tell anyone.” Another teasing smile before she turned back to the map and pointed at a spot surrounded by nothing by a crude circle. “So this is how our arrangement will be.” She left the ball of flame floating in the air, sitting onto the bed next to me. The darkness might betray me if it can’t hide the redness that might come to my face. Sadistic and odd she might be, I couldn’t deny that a unique beauty was all over her - those eyes especially. I had only seen a giant from afar and even then, my imagination would do no justice to her features. “You’re of these lands and have the only tool against our mucky adversaries of the night. You guide me to the tempest spire that I’m looking for, and I will teach you how to better control your flame through tetherwork.”
I nodded my head before my mind completely processed the request, hardly considering the after and the journey this would entail. A stupid thief wouldn’t last long however after this whole ordeal.
“When do we start?”
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A few more knocks at the door came before the search was finally over, wasting the darkest hours of the night I could’ve used for a nice head start. The short man’s flame would be enough to repel the Vacuous, at least that’s what Duri and mother had told me about the legendary conjurors, as powerful as siphons but with no spire for a source. The man couldn’t have been a manipulator unless the coin purses and little sacks he held contained fabrics strong enough to resist an eternal flame, but after asking, he revealed that he had stolen braids from the Warden’s train station. Part of me suspected that when the townsfolk said that the militia couldn’t put out the flames until a dose of magic was applied. Even if the water isn’t siphoned from a spire, it holds a stronger weight when held up by tetherwork - a manipulator’s default as compared to summoning from anywhere in the world like a siphon.
There was no protest when I started inspecting the haul, he even offered me some of the food in his other bags when I was holding a spyglass between my fingers - salted meats with a heated hand offering to make the already cooked meat more palatable. I declined for now, as much as the kindness of a human was nice to see in this town. He has been my hostage for a few hours now however, he could still be plotting my disarm.
Like the Warden Matriarch Emile, I tried to pry his mind but I was met with resistance as well. Either he was lying about his capabilities and knew something other than fire, or he was like myself - born close to the places that let the Vacuous in. Alu claimed to know nothing of where he was from, not that it would help, as far as I was aware, there was no place in these lands that laid claim to being the fire mage home. Nothing laid on the other end of the vast sea, even in the north where the ocean was another sheet of ice, no traveler has ever gone across and returned. Perhaps the ice can’t hold our weight, large or small, or the expanse never ends.
The expanding sack braid with sloppy repairs made me doubt this knowledge to a minor extent - pots and little bits of wood and cooking utensils likely pilfered from vacant homes, looked more prepared and used to being away from a home than I was.
I tried again and again to read him as we made conversation, the vicious storm shutting me out of his mind was different to Emile’s, small but subtle details that became apparent with every attempt. If Emile’s mind was like a wall, there was no way my tethers, my feelers into her mind would go through - stone does not become liquid without something weakening along the way. Alu on the other hand wasn’t a wall, I could make my way inside to his lake of thought, but I had no way to feel the water, no grasp on what I could comprehend as tendencies of the mind. He appeared human, talked and moved like one, vestigial differences at best like the color of his flesh and his element of choice.
“How long have you been on the road?” I simply asked, noticing the cooking ware bearing a few dents and imperfections. One flat pan even had a hole through the center.
He muttered to himself and tapped a finger to his forehead. “Almost three months now.”
“All by yourself?”
“Not always.” He replied with a hollow laugh. “Used to have a band of thieves but two of them straightened themselves out and became bound, while the other and I just went our separate ways. It’s been forty nights since I decided to try doing things on my own.”
“Lover?” He looked at me strangely for the question. “The one you split up with.”
“No. She wanted to help me figure things out but I was chaos waiting to happen.” His tone of voice sounded earnest, I almost pitied him if he spoke truthfully.
“We should start moving, daylight will come soon and I’d like to make as much progress as we can.” I stood up and started packing my things, the chatter and noise of the bar downstairs was near silent save for the low hum of a few patrons.
“And not risk paying for another night here?” He said in a stammer heavy but jovial manner.
I couldn’t help but give him a small smile as I nodded my head.
We held the map between us after we jumped over pitiful fences and snuck through multiple backyards, his own suggestion in case the guard was still on watch. The dirt road greeted our feet as we left Sarengound, Alu’s flame rested in my hand, taming its attempts to push in all directions with every flicker.
“Alright, we’re just leaving the center of the mainlands…” Alu spoke, his finger hovering over my recent recreation of the town. “If your spire is here…” Dragging his finger to the circle. “Then that has to be by the swamp of Berken.”
“Does that mean anything of importance?” Lucky me, now I had a tour guide in these lands too, hopefully.
“Well it’s not really a swamp but I know the area and I heard something ten days back about the trade route through the rock line over there being closed off.”
“Why does that matter?” A thief keeps their ear to the ground as well as the crowds.
“Traders stop for no man or beast, it’d take something awful to get them to stop taking a route. Men of that cloth bring iron bolters, mages for hire, anything they can to quell nature. Even the people in the south cross the seas to trade with the Colossi in their barren desert, they’re made of tough stuff. ”
I nodded my head and wondered how often he stole from those same traveler’s carts. Hope they’d be worth the trouble. “Do you have a route in mind?”
“If we keep going, we’ll hit a watermill collection. They provide for a lot of villages nearby, then we go west until we get there.”
The trek to the watermill line was quiet for the most part, my thoughts were noisy enough however - considering where to go after I acquired control of the winds. Most of what I wanted from Jeremiah’s ruins were in my bags, and anything else laid in the cellar of the lost academies to the east. If binds and other suppressing tools didn’t exist, taking over a Warden compound would be easy - rally the witches and anything else they find of ill repute. There might be fun in trying anyways.
Without skipping a beat, not even asking if I wanted to, Alu talked to one of the workers at the village. The two conversed as if they’d known each other for a long while and before I could inquire as to what he was doing, the elderly man of the pairing, sporting a bushy mustache and muscles that detailed how much he loved his work but not his safety, assured us that he had just the thing for our venture. Even my confused expression didn’t deter my hostage navigator, in fact he seemed rather pleased. Sir Firestarter rounded the corner of the watermill and followed the old man down a set of wooden stairs that squelched and bent to a point of concern, but the large boat in front of me stole my attention - seeing Alu jump to the end of the wooden vessel and wait for me patiently.
The closest I’d even been to riding a boat was melting the frozen river with some friends and floating on driftwood down the Tearful Rocks. With those green eyes observing my hesitation, I stepped into the boat, it shifted to the right, I put my left foot in and the whole vessel shook beyond my control. Trying to correct myself, I end up falling face forward into the seat planks. Alu’s hands scooped around my shoulders, trying to lift me up. If he planned to kill me like this, he found the perfect disarm. Pushing myself up, I rubbed at what must have been a brick of red across my face six inches across. “We’ll be fine.” I simply said to the man as he looked on in horror at my tumble. A stone face might’ve hidden the laughter Alu was hiding as he grabbed the oars and pushed us along the river. Damn you, tell me your secrets!
I marked the watermill line on my map as well as any details I remembered on our journey there. The benefit I’ll list for the mainland is that the vast plains of green and brown at least have landmarks from the centuries of conflict, and the trees and towns can litter a map with points of reference. The north only held a few consistent marks, and those were the mountains and the tallest ruins - everything else was buried beneath the snow that stood seven feet tall on a summer’s day.
“That man acted like he’s known you for years.” I said after putting the map away, looking at the sun starting to fall after such a long day.
“Yes and no.” Alu said, putting the oars down and wincing at the hour-long effort. “Albus has been here for a while and every band I’ve tagged along with would always pass through here. I’ve never been too far away, cause that’s where the money was.”
“Taking a golden tooth when the maw surrounds you, huh?”
“Well what choice do we have in life? Every trader is a thief on the side, every knight pulls a knife on their own for the right price. I’m sure you could tell what I chose.” Closed as his mind was to me, I could read his body when he burned me - the look in his eyes, the hesitation in his hands, he didn’t hold malice when I recoiled.
“You don’t like violence.”
“I’ve never killed anyone. At least I’m unaware of anyone I’ve killed. Plan to keep it that way.”
“I understand.” I couldn’t say I held the same view but in the Narrow North, you protected your own - your own life, your own loves, your own wants and killed what interfered.
A howling became apparent to both of us, the tempest in sight over the stone mounds in the distance, ripping up trees, huts and cart tarps. Night however was drawing near and the thought of trying to hoof it through the mud between the rockies gave me the inclination to suggest camp for the night.
“Well we’re out in the open, where do you want to set up? Who's on watch duty?” Alu responded.
“No one. Follow me.” I stepped out of the boat, almost losing my footing on the muddy plains and falling back in but my tethers hardened the mud as I put my second foot on shore. I pulled Alu as well before grounding the boat. I walked towards the nearest pillar of stone, extending my hands and pushing forward, breaking a hole into the mountain. The fool stood there slack jawed, letting me lose my composure and laugh. We made camp inside, pushing a door in place and lighting a fire. “Didn’t know giants commanded stone and dirt, huh?” My smile stretched from ear to ear and I just couldn’t help myself.
“To be honest, you’re the first giant I’ve seen up close.”
“Your mama tell you a whole bunch of scary stories about the big, bad giants?” The smile ever present, I found myself crawling and still towering over him before I realized the vacant expression on his face. “I’m sorry, that was…stupid to say.” Sitting back down, the silence weighed on my idiotic self for forgetting that detail so quickly.
“It’s ok.” He simply said, adding another load on my frame.
“You must have had someone take care of you. Couldn’t have been on your own from the start.” Fuck it, add the salt, he can choose not to answer. He took out one of his bags and pulled out a tiny chest on a string necklace.
“I don’t remember their faces, but I kept the notes they left me whenever they went to market.” He nudged closer to me and showed some crudely written notes on paper sixty times folded. “I have one note somewhere that was for my birthday, or “founding day” as the woman put it…and they mentioned that I might not have been their son, but they were happy to have me.” I looked him in the eye, his face betraying his contention. “And then I lost control of my abilities. They weren’t hurt but the Wardens came knocking and I ran away. They didn’t know I could do anything like that, and they didn’t need to. They could’ve been hurt.” Without letting another breath pass, he took the food off of the stove we made and handed the piece of meat to me on one of his many pilfered plates.
“You’re being awfully nice and open for someone who’s a hostage.” Was the only thing I could think to say.
“Things are hard enough as it is.” He said with a weak laugh. “I don’t like to make it that way if I can help it.”
“Just accidentally troublesome.” I gave him a playful nudge before I bit into the meat. There was a genuine smile after that from both of us.
“What do you plan on doing after this spire?” He asked when our plates were clean.
“If you’re trying to negotiate your ransom, I’m not telling you yet.” I feigned an evil laugh, and thankfully he didn’t become terrified. “Are you truly curious about my ventures though?”
“Yes. Are there more spires to find? What else would a giant want from these lands?”
“History, artifacts, new and interesting foods. What does it matter?” It was true that after this spire, I might need a new objective in mind before I return home from pilgrimage. Siege on the academies? Too risky. See if the fire spire somehow exists in the Colossi homeland? Too long AND risky.
“Just matters if you’re looking for more adventures and curiosities.”
“You’re telling me there’s something fun to do with these self righteous ‘saviors’ breathing down your neck?”
“If you keep your head low, you see the stories of all the people below those prick’s gaze.” He said with a chortle. Stories of the lower folk sounded akin to those stories everyone would tell each other in the villages, imagining grand landscapes, strange spells and eccentric coin givers. As I was lost in this thought, he continued: “I remember one time when I was passing through the watermill village, I was offered a job to find someone’s daughter by a desperate mother.”
“Looked imposing and self-sufficient enough I suppose.” I hid my laugh, keeping my honesty to myself - with the red cloak and daggers at his sides, he appeared like the least honest of folk.
He laughed at my comment. “More likely I was the sixty second person she courted with that job.” He pointed to the daggers and singular shortsword on his hip. “Probably failed to see the tools of a purse snatcher.” Tiredness started to weigh on me, but I didn’t have the desire to stop his rambles. “But anyways, an investigation of her room revealed that her daughter was right there the whole time…trapped in a new painting.”
“Pardon?”
“Yes, someone had sold her a ‘beauty’ braid that would transform her into what she sought more than anything. She was ensnared in the very image she wanted.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke the frame, for it was the braid’s body itself. It’s a good thing she found me when she did because that prison did not preserve the girl’s health. She was starved, dehydrated, indecent in every way no one wants to see themselves.”
“In times like these, people make money selling curses.” I couldn’t help but spit at the thought. Curses didn’t work the same as tethers, it was all about bounding someone to the rules you set. One can’t simply turn it off, the speaker, the trigger for the torment must be destroyed. If a town is cursed and the switch is lost in the wastelands of north and south after the inflictor ran away, hope is gone.
“Girl told me where she got the braid. When I got there, real bottom feeder claimed he didn’t know anything about cursed braids.”
“A salesman should always check anyways.”
“Yes.” He pointed two fingers to the air. “So I went back to the mother, and she told me not to let him get away with that. So I burned down his shop and home. Somehow I didn’t take the whole town by accident.”
“You did the right thing.” I said with a smile. “But I think we should save some stories for the next morning. I need some sleep.”
He was about to protest, maybe say something about watch duty but I leaned over and closed my eyes, tethering a field of force around me in case he tried anything. I won’t deny enjoying his company, even as I feel his eyes stick onto me before succumbing to slumber as well.
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Slices of the air beckon my eyes to open. To the left of my periphery, Alu was practicing his slashes and ripostes by the door of the cave. Such noise might be a concern for others, prelude to betrayal, but unless his blade was fireproof, it stood no chance of piercing my skin. A few bandits had tried that when I first left the tavern on the border - tried to take my head from my body and were left horrified as the chipped blade of their axes slid off of the nape of my neck.
Dispelling the barrier around myself, I sat up and wondered for a moment, since I couldn’t read his thoughts to get the definite answer: I reached out for his storm of a mind palace once more but instead of groping for his words, I put forth my own.
“Good morning, Alu.” Just as I had hoped, he turned around to my voice undelivered from my lips. “I hope you actually got some sleep.” The man looked at me in bewilderment, seeing only my slight smile but no movement otherwise. His own lips sealed shut and he closed his eyes.
“Am I imagining your voice in my head?” He muttered into my own, a place sealed by voidborn ways, but we found our way to connect our thought bubbles. The surprise on my face told him everything he needed to know, and continued. “Blood and fire, you can pull at my limbs, can you pull at my mind too?”
I gave him a disapproving glare before pointing a finger and pushing the tethers in his legs, causing him to trip forwards. “Not something I can do, little man. Your mind wouldn’t let me anyways.”
Pushing himself off the floor, he sheathed his blade and packed up the cooking ware. “What do you mean?”
“I guess you never learned much after all.” At first I thought he was hiding his true abilities in case he needed to catch me off guard or convince me to let my curiosities go, but the more time we spent together, I started to see a man that was honest about his faults and shortcomings. “Tetherwork, voidborn, the day the dragons died, do any of these terms mean anything to you?”
“I know there’s no fire spire, no reason I should have this control of flame when the dragons no longer live. I hold no scales or a hidden tail, so I wasn’t born of one.” He looked at me with a firm look, resolute in his statements. “Tethers are how everything connects, our body to the elements but I was never told how it works. That’s why I’m chaos waiting to happen.”
“But no clue on voidborn.” I simply stated, he just nodded his head. “It’s a term everyone comes to in one way or another, labeling those of us who were born close to where the Vacuous spawn, the creatures of the night only your flame can seem to kill outright.” His glance rested on his hands. “Something I’m sure you’ve figured out already.” Standing up, I moved the door and started our trek to the great spire, which already left the mark of its destruction on our mountain abode. Patches of swamp, putted rocks, trees and huts were splattered against the mounds and slanted grays around us. “You see how I can talk to you like this?”
He nodded his head, perhaps forgetting if there was a muscle to pull for this. “Well, unlike others I can’t read your mind thoroughly. I can only bridge our minds together for these quick talks.”
A few seconds of silence elapsed before he replied through my channel. “Sorry to disappoint, I doubt you’d find anything if you wanted to….could you control people through their minds if you wanted to?”
There had been stories of the sadistic trying to do that to prisoners of the Mage Revolts but pushing and pulling at the delicate center of anyone, regardless of strength, would just leave a corpse with blood seeping from their eyes and nose. I spared him that history lesson and simply said no.
“So…” His strides attempted to imitate mine, but being half as long and having his feet submerged in swamp water, it was a humorous display. “Do you mind if I call you by your name?” I looked over to him with some form of questioning in my eyes, casting his gaze downwards in response, a redness becoming prominent below it.
“Do I scare you, Alu?”
“Will you be mad if I answer truthfully?” He looked back to me, the blush remaining.
“I will only be mad if you try to burn me.”
“Then no. You don’t scare me.” I stopped in my trek and faced him, staring down at his form doing its best not to retreat. “I wouldn’t mind your company, maybe…teach me more afterwards.” The corners of his lips trembled at his words, and while I couldn’t read his thoughts, his face told me many things. I simply pressed forwards, not saying a word but keeping my grip firm on my staff and pushing my hand through my bag for the Siphoning Stone. The tempest laid a few miles ahead, with curved stone and underpasses of arranged mossy branches. The muddy grounds lessened as we went inside, with even the sunlight struggling to pass through the green roofs. Wooden bows and rusting remains of swords littered the cracked ground, more at the end than at the beginning.
Steam masked the exit, with Alu pushing in front and standing before me. “That will maim you if you try to go through with your task.”
“Do you take me for a lost child?” I raised my fist to him before dropping it. “Just let me think.” I didn’t expect steam, these spires were always singular in their elemental thrashing.
“Guide me through.” He raised his hands to mine. “Show me how to control my tethers. Where there’s steam, there’s fire somewhere. If I can’t hold the winds, I can hold the blazing heat.”
“And you think I trust you to protect me in what could be a long trek?”
“I’m not fireproof.” He simply stated while puffing out his chest and tugging at the collar that concealed his neck and held his hood. Underneath was the mark of a noose and a black burn from the middle of his neck to below his ear. “Until you’re done with this, and I’m under your watch…we’re in this together.” Revealing that mark felled the gate that held back some tears but his own stubbornness kept them from streaking to his cheeks.
“You follow my lead, and nothing more.” I took his hands in mine, they were small but warm and eagerly accepting of my own. “Close your eyes and don’t summon your flame but imagine where you don’t want it to go.”
“Don’t want it to go?”
“Yes, you’re building your own cage. Move flesh and mind to make it as you want.” He nodded his head and I could feel his imperceptible strings grasping around his own hands and the area just below the mossy roof. As I let go of his hands, I told him to try. The strands tried to expand and dismantle themselves as flames grew from his body and created a wall of flickering red. The strings struggled and bent underneath his output. As I told him to hold and then return to form, he practiced a few more formations and smiled with the radiance of a child learning to craft the snowman.
“Shall we proceed, Morr-” He caught himself and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yes, and you can call me Morrigan.”
Pushing forward, he took a deep breath before parting the wall of steam and telling me to wait as he stepped inside. His arms outstretched, he kept looking back to me with that smile not so skillfully hidden. I kept myself alert in case he faltered but I felt no need to add to his efforts, he held the white veil back with such ease. How such a swirl of steam could be concentrated around a spire of wind, I still had no clue but the amount was beyond reasonable, obscuring the very mountains we just traveled between. The ground slanted upwards, and rock faces were invisible until Alu or I collided with them. Clarity only came when the source started to push us back .
“How close do you need to be?” Alu yelled over the howling winds.
“Keep going until I say so.” I stepped in front of him and pulled the wall of white apart before struggling for my stone and casting it through the tunnel. In the distance, I saw it stop and align itself with the eye of the storm, glowing and revealing the strangeness besides the hole in the earth. Cauldrons of stone and elaborate steel, broken arms and mechanisms embedded in the mountains surrounding. A liquid from containers bearing unknown marks and letters fed the steam and glowed a pulsating green. As the siphoning stone rested between the wreckage, a burning ran through me for a moment, making me fall forward. Thoughts of betrayal ravaged my mind as I felt the cage shrink, but was cast aside when my companion slid in front of me, trying to catch my weakening form and failing. Hands still outstretched, I felt the cage cover barely a few inches above our crumpled forms. I coughed and wheezed before regaining my composure, bringing him up with me.
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The blue seams that ran across the middle of her arms and legs spread apart like spilled ink as she sat down against a rock face and examined herself. Breathing was ragged and her eyes had a hard time remaining open despite my attempts to shake her awake. Light still defined the day, so that’s one panic aside but there was no way I would be able to carry her back to the cave. Even with her eyes closed, she would shoo away my attempts to poke her awake. I walked around to gather the few pieces of wood that weren't soaked in mud or torn to paper thin, still surprised she wasn’t pouncing on me at the thought of fleeing.
The flames and crackle of wood didn’t stir her either. The last piece of meat I had finally provoked something from her as I wavered the piece of chicken under her face. A doubtful look before snatching the breasts and tearing at it with her teeth, eye contact still upheld. “If you’re looking for recompense for your steamy escort, you’re not getting it.” A laugh escaped my lips as she further erased that poultry from existence.
“I’m just making sure you’re ok. You didn’t tell me to leave.” She paused in her ravenous pursuit, appearing lost in thought for a moment.
“I question how long you’ve survived if you pass on opportunities so easily.” Even as she said that, her stoic expression betrayed any bite that phrase could hold. She opened her hand and summoned a small gust of wind to fan the flames. “What is your plan from here, Alu?”
“Well…” I separated an apple that was on the verge of rotting, foreign to her perhaps - hesitating to eat it until I did myself. “I was thinking of going further south, we’re not too far from Fahren. I’ve heard of a haven where Warden defiant folk like us can find work and earn a bed.”
“You’re speaking as if I’m coming with you on this ambition.” Her lip curled upon biting the fruit before relenting with another taste.
“Figured it would interest you, but if I’m done being your guide. Perhaps this is where we split ways?”
She went quiet again as I stood up from the fire, with no direction in mind or reservations in mind. “And thank you.”
A scoff and shake of her head. “For what? I tortured and kidnapped you for my own benefit. You get your stones off to stuff like this?”
“No, but that torment was worth feeling like I could control this strange thing I have.” I lit my fingertips and for once didn’t feel like a wildfire would start from such little displays. “I might have a chance after all.” The mark around my neck ached but the strands within my being felt united in muting the old scar and bruise. Even the lie of not being fireproof, spoken for her trust, felt fortified by this sense of safety.
“Hold on.” She grabbed onto my shoulder as I turned away. “How about I make you a proposal?” I nodded, hoping she might say something like that. “I’ll join you and we’ll find our own ways to help one another. I help you master your tetherwork and strands, and we’ll share our profits from this adventuring.”
“And find out more about the strange thing that I am?” Her gaze was something akin to a mad alchemist concocting a poison for the mayor but the smile told of something resembling care, even if momentary.
“Why of course!” She threw her arms in the air. “Maybe I could learn it from you and be the true master!”
From that day forward, our partnership began. Our affections were minimal and our direction was foggy at best, but being with someone who knew more of the world than where to get the next meal was one of the best accidents I could ask for. Dreams came back here for inspiration, thinking of the hundred and one ways things could’ve turned out differently. Better and worse things were in my grasp and above my head in the waking world. Even in a deep slumber, it felt like our tethers were connected in a way unthought of before, and what might be her dreams filled my head. Perhaps she felt mine as well, and the more nights we spent together, she knew how much I really knew of myself and sought to fill in the blanks regardless.