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The Will-Breaker
Chapter 8: Consequences (Part 1)

Chapter 8: Consequences (Part 1)

Freezing water washed over Felitïa’s shivering body and retreated, then again with the next wave. But she paid it no mind. It wasn’t important. They’d lost.

Corvinian was gone.

Will-Breaker.

The Volg had just walked straight at her. Ignored everything she threw at him. Her spells wouldn’t work.

No, I think someone made a mistake. You are no Will-Breaker.

He had towered over her. He was smaller than the one in Mesone—at least as best she could remember—but still huge, and his wings dwarfed the rest of his body, making him seem even bigger still. He glanced down at her as he advanced, his white-bearded muzzle twisting into a mockery of a smile. His golden horns shone in the moonlight.

Definitely a mistake.

And he swatted her away like she was an insect. Perhaps to him, she was.

Pathetic and weak.

She landed in the water and, as she tried to rise, he snatched Corvinian, the yellow energy cancelling the blue. Helpless, she watched as Corvinian struggled and screamed, as the Volg called to his companion, and as they flew away—all before she could get even get to her feet.

You are no Will-Breaker.

Why did people keep calling her that?

Perhaps he was right. The Darkers, the Volg in Mesone, they all had the wrong person. Whoever this Will-Breaker was, it wasn’t her. The Volg had entered her mind and she couldn’t stop him. The walls of the Room shattered at his casual thought. He tore apart all her focus and concentration.

And she could do nothing to push him out. Absolutely nothing to defend herself.

Pathetic and weak.

One final attack on her mind had sent her falling back into the water again.

Compared to his powers, she really was nothing more than an insect to him.

“Rudiger! Over here! I need help with Stavan!”

Zandrue’s voice, hoarse and distant.

She should get up. If she lay here too long, she’d freeze to death. Part of her almost welcomed that possibility. But no. She had to get everyone together, try to find a way to chase after the Volgs.

Felitïa stood and looked about. Rudiger was stumbling up the hill towards Zandrue and one of DeSeloön’s men—she couldn’t tell who. Near where Corvinian had last stood, Hang and Greminy lay on the beach. Felitïa stumbled over to them. They stirred as she reached them.

Confusion and fear invaded her head. Anger, disappointment, self-recrimination, more. All blurred together. The walls wouldn’t reform; the Room in her head was just... She couldn’t describe it. There was no floor anymore either. Just open space filled with indistinct blobs of feelings. She couldn’t even tell whose were whose. If it weren’t for the fact Hang and Greminy—and DeSeloön a little farther along the shore—were the only ones physically close to her, she would have thought there were dozens of people around her.

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Felitïa stumbled back.

“Your Highness, are you all right?” Hang was getting up and reaching for her.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, backing away from him a bit. The feelings were so strong. They swarmed around her in the Room. Round and round, dizzying.

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

She didn’t believe it. She was clearly hurting, hunched over, clutching her head like that. Should she press the issue? Hold off for now? The Princess would probably...

Wait, those weren’t her thoughts. Those were Hang’s. They were mixing with her own.

“Sergeant Siltons, Corporal Merrin, report.” Captain DeSeloön was limping over to them.

“A few bruises, sir, but nothing serious,” Felitïa replied. She had a suspicion Hang said it, too, but she wasn’t quite sure.

“What the hell?” Hang said. She didn’t say it with him. At least, she was pretty certain she didn’t.

“My lady, you seem unwell,” she said to herself.

No! No, that was DeSeloön, damn it!

Wasn’t it?

What had the Volg done to her mind?

A hand touched her shoulder, but she pushed it aside. “Please, stand back away from me for a few moments.” That was definitely her. “I need a moment to regain control. Please!”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to focus. First... What did she need to do first?

A floor.

Yes, the Room needed the floor back. It took huge effort, but slowly a bit of floor reformed. It wasn’t much—a couple subjective feet in diameter—but it was enough for her to sit on—well, in that subjective way sitting even happened in the Room. After all...

No. Focus.

Just focus.

Why was it every time she thought she’d worked through her concentration issues, something happened which showed how much she really hadn’t?

There was that lack of focus again.

She took another deep breath. A bit of wall took shape again. Like the floor, it wasn’t much, but it was something. It could help. She could use it to start organising things, separating the thoughts. Most importantly, separating herself from the others. She started the piece of wall rotating around her, knocking aside anything that wasn’t her.

That was new. She’d never done that before!

Felitïa opened her eyes and smiled. The three soldiers were staring at her, their faces and thoughts a mixture of concern and confusion. Their thoughts were still incredibly strong—stronger than she could remember having ever received thoughts since that first day at the well—and they still blended together, but at least she could tell her own self now.

“My lady?” DeSeloön said.

“I’m okay. For now.”

He nodded. “Very well. We need to get back to camp. Merrin, Siltons, go. I’ll help Felitïa.”

“Sir!” the other two intoned and headed away from the beach.

DeSeloön held back a moment.

“Honestly, I’ll be fine,” Felitïa said. “I don’t need any help getting back to camp.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “May I inquire, however, what just happened here?”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said.

“My lady, if I’m to protect you, I need to understand what is happening.”

“It’s a little late for protection now, don’t you think?” she snapped and stormed away from him.

Her words stung him. His remorse was battering at her.

She stopped and looked back. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I’m just a little out of sorts.”

DeSeloön straightened up. “No apology necessary. I suspect we’re all out of sorts at the moment. Shall we join the others?”

Gods, if she was having such trouble keeping herself together around just a couple people, what would it be like with everyone around?