True to history, she heard Abbaz before she saw him. His mournful melody assaulted her ears as she hesitated outside, contemplating how she was going to do this. Abbaz wasn’t Matyxal. Nobody was. But neither was he typically this bad with the lute. Off key, missed notes, no sung verses. A good song was a guilty pleasure for Zyryxa, but there was no pleasure and all guilt in this woeful rendition of “All That Remains.”

A window groaned open, and a familiar face she never expected to see again looked out. “Zyryxa!”

Even in excitement, Basyx was quiet. His hair had grown even longer, more appropriate for a girl youth in their society than a boy. Then again, the fact that Basyx was in his room at this time of the day was all the evidence needed to know that he didn’t fit into Volqori society at any level. Her once-brother didn’t leave the house to go training and her once-sister wouldn’t return home from training. Some splendid parenting Abbaz was demonstrating.

Still, for all that he didn’t fit, Zyryxa loved this doomed child. She choked back tears, trying not to think about how he wouldn’t survive the rite. Her sweet little brother who refused to hurt any living thing deserved a different world; one where bards or scholars had enough value to exist without also being warriors. Looking at him smiling from his window, Zyryxa felt just how much was not right in this world.

“Hi, Basyx,” she said, her voice going high like he was still a baby. She approached his window. “How’ve you been, little wing?”

Basyx’s smile dissipated. He shook his head and gestured for her to climb in. Thus, after over four hundred days since she left her childhood home, Zyryxa returned in the least expected way ever. She’d imagined so many different homecoming scenarios, almost all of them centering around Zyrthalla and most involving her own dragon. She didn’t dwell on it, lest her ability to choke back the tears break down. There was nothing wrong with crying, but she didn’t want to make this precious boy any sadder than he already was.

Zyryxa closed the window behind her and then drew his curtains. Left in the dark with nothing but Basyx, his books, and his drums, she wrapped him in her arms and held him tight. For a long while, nothing but the dissonance of Abbaz’s music pierced their ears. She could feel Basyx sobbing, clinging to her with all his might. Which wasn’t much. Zyryxa wanted to assure him, to tell him that it would be okay. But she was too proud to lie. Nothing was okay. Nothing would be okay. There was nothing she could do about that. Mom was gone. Abbaz was obviously broken. Zyrxine and Basyx were hopelessly lost.

Basyx sobbed out her name, clinging to her. “Let it out,” she whispered back, holding him, running her fingers through his hair.

She kept her eyes dry needing to be solid as ice for him. If only Zyrthalla were still alive, she’d make everything better. But their mother was nothing but a memory of better times. All that remained of her was the four broken people she left behind.

Zyryxa had to withhold her words, or else she would cry. So, she spoke with her arms, lending Basyx her love. At least he would know that somebody still cared. That didn’t make it all better, but sometimes even making things a little better was worth any effort. One forbidden hug. Let Qoryxa judge her if it was wrong. Right now, she didn’t care about rules or tradition. She’d tear them all down if she could to protect this poor child weeping in her arms.

“I missed you,” Basyx cried.

“I missed you too.” She kissed the top of his head. She broke the embrace and took his hands, kneeling down to be at eye level. “What’ve you been up to?”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Basyx shook his head. “Just reading.”

“What’ve you been reading about?”

“Everything and nothing.”

She smiled. he didn’t smile back as he usually did. “No matter what anyone says, I’ll always be your sister. Whatever is on your mind, you can tell me.”

He nodded, wiping away at his tears and snot. “Zyrxine’s gone.”

Zyryxa nodded. “I know, little wing. I already talked to her.”

“Is she coming back?”

It broke her heart, but Zyryxa wasn’t going to pass off soured milk as sweet. She shook her head. “Zeen is angry. I don’t think she’ll be coming back any time soon.” Or ever, she thought to herself, holding back one painful truth.

“They fought,” Basyx said.

From the common room, Abbaz cried out a verse:

Time moves on, but still I’m here,

Every moment crystal clear.

Through the darkness, through the rain,

This empty shell is all that remains.

That’s only the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard, Zyryxa thought. “They … fought?”

Basyx sniffled. “Zeen smashed his lutes. Told him that he was a coward. That he should’ve been the one to die.”

Zyryxa sighed. How many times had she had that thought? Still, for all the shame it brought, she’d trade them in an instant. “And Abbaz fought her?”

“Not at first. He told her that he’d trade his life if he could. Then she smashed a lute over his head. She kept screaming at him, kept swinging the lute. I thought she was going to kill him.”

Basyx sobbed. Zyryxa cradled him again.

“Dad was… he was…”

“He finally fought back.”

“He lost it, Zy. Dad threw her through a wall of solid stone. I thought she was dead. He yelled like possessed by Zamael with all the strength of Gidi.” The words fell out of Basyx between sobs. “I was so scared. I stood between him and Zeen.”

Zyryxa’s fingers closed into fists. “Did he hit you?”

Basyx shook his head. “He grabbed me and squeezed. It hurt, Zy. It hurt a lot. He roared in my face. I... I thought he’d kill us both. But then, he started crying. He grabbed a broken lute and played. Zeen got up, said nothing, and hasn’t been back in moons.”

“You were brave,” she said, smiling at him as she brushed his cheek. “You probably saved Zeen’s life.” Not that her life seems to be worth much, Zyryxa thought. Again, anything that could bolster his confidence and was founded in truth.

He smiled back. It was an ephemeral thing, but just because it didn’t last long didn’t make it meaningless. Zyryxa needed that, she realized. All things considered, this wasn’t the wrong way to return home. Giving him a moment of pride felt like redemption for what happened at the training grounds. She wasn’t going to give up on him. If there was a way to save Basyx, she would find it. First, she needed to deal with their father.

“I need to speak to Abbaz. When I’m done,” she poked his chest, making him giggle, “you’re going to tell me all about everything and nothing.” She jabbed him again, poking at him until he fell into a fit of giggling.

He got her back by tickling her armpits. Leverith! The familiar play making her feel like she was a kid again. Zyryxa giggled uncontrollably as she countered with her own tickle warfare. Both breathlessly yelping with laughter, they didn’t notice the absence of broken lute chords.

The door swung open, revealing the tallest man Zyryxa had ever seen. Face concealed by a thick blue beard, his brilliant azure eyes rimmed by red rings of fire, his furs unkempt, she barely recognized her own father. Then again, she had never known the real him. Clinging to Basyx, she didn’t know if she wanted to know what remained.