Chapter 35

I appeared at a city port - empty of all people. Wooden docks stretched out over the water, boats tied fast to keep them from drifting away. Some were simple rowboats, others slightly larger vessels with furled sails. Beyond them, in the fog, loomed dark, indistinct shapes - ships, perhaps, or whatever lay on the far shore. I couldn’t tell.

Behind me was the city, abandoned and silent. This place was slightly different from the others. The water lapped softly against the wharf, small waves forming despite the absence of wind. It was sound - real sound - something rare here, aside from the ever-present whispers that followed me through this realm. And yet, even with that motion, gulls hung frozen in the air near the fog’s edge, wings outstretched, unmoving. There were no people, no animals - nothing alive at all, save those suspended birds. Everything else was still.

The city itself was rustic, like Northgate, or the old European towns I’d seen that clung to their medieval bones. Half-timbered buildings lined the streets, dark beams framing pale plaster. Carts stood abandoned, crates and barrels stacked as if awaiting delivery - or forgotten just after. Curious, I opened a few. They were empty. All of them. I felt a brief, foolish disappointment - if I could have brought supplies back with me, winter would have been much easier.

The whole area was a shell. Without people, there was no need for dishes in kitchens, clothes in closets, or tools in sheds. Like a stage set, it wasn’t truly real - only convincing enough to suggest that it was. For a moment, I wondered if I was the god of lies, or illusions, but that didn’t sit right. The god of shallowness, of superficial beauty, felt just as wrong.

After some time wandering, I reached out to my Faith again and found the familiar constellation of beacons. Knowing them helped now. Ashlara was red shot through with gold. Mirri, blue threaded with green. Serah, purple touched with red. They weren’t truly colors - I couldn’t see them with my eyes - but impressions sensed somewhere deep within, perceived through a sense my mind still struggled to understand.

One light remained. Gold, flecked with blue.

I focused on it and took a step.

The fog surged in, swallowing everything, then withdrew just as quickly. I found myself standing in the common room of our house. Mirri’s humming drifted in softly from the kitchen. Lilae sat at the table, reading a book I didn’t recognize.

“Is that from Grams?” I asked.

She jumped, eyes wide. Her English still wasn’t great, and my Brel wasn’t much better, but we’d learned to meet each other halfway. She followed my gaze to the book, then nodded.

I smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“S’ok,” she said shyly.

“What’s it about?” I asked.

“Kaela…” She paused, searching for the word. “A girl… who needs to find thuun aeth mireth. She… meets a torrin who… helps?”

I nodded. “A girl who needs to find medicine in a cave,” I said slowly. “And she meets a boy who helps her?”

She nodded again.

“That sounds like a good story,” I said, smiling.

She smiled back and returned to her book.

* * *

The next few days passed in much the same way. Mornings were for magic, noon for combat, and the afternoons for Faith.

Magic was still a struggle and control was the heart of the problem. Every time I drew on mana it came out like a firehose. I couldn’t coax a simple spark into being, but I could melt stone into lava. Light wasn’t a steady glow so much as a blinding, stuttering flash I couldn’t hold in place. Every spell became a contest, a fight to keep the power from tearing out of me and hurting someone nearby.

Combat, at least, went better. I grew more confident in my footing, more precise in my parries and strikes, and bolder in how I fought. I started throwing Adhaneth more often, recalling it mid-fight to strike from behind. Sometimes I’d let it fall, duck under a blow, and then summon it back just in time to catch an attack from an awkward angle. When it worked, it felt incredible. Even when it didn’t - and I usually ended up with a bruise or two - it was still fun.

Training my Faith was a mixed bag. With enough focus, I could return to specific places in my demesne. It took effort and left me tired, but it grew easier each time. I managed small changes as well - raising a wall a little higher, shifting the color of grass or brick. Those changes seemed permanent, but shaping them was painstakingly difficult and exhausting.

The strangest part was searching the Faith-scape itself. The smaller beacons - none as bright as my companions - shifted throughout the day. There were far more of them at dawn and dusk, fewer in the deep of day and night. They were harder to reach and drained me quickly, so I could only visit a handful each day.

Several turned out to be crossroads. One was a bridge. Another was a naga village on the shore of a wide lake - I found that one only once, early in the morning, and never again. Another led me into the middle of a funeral, which caused no small amount of confusion. I offered my condolences and left before I made things worse.

Toward the end of the week, I brought Mirri with me into my demesne. I wanted her impression - and to be sure it was safe. Bringing her along was much harder than I’d expected, especially compared to Yveth, who had followed me with ease. I wondered if it was her own Faith that allowed her to do so.

Once we were confident it posed no danger, I brought Ashlara, Serah, and finally Lilae - always with Mirri - at different times. Using those who remained behind as anchors, I found it easier to return home, though that too required effort.

Lilae was fascinated by my demesne. I took her to the docks, hoping it would be less frightening than the crossroads or the empty school. She wandered along the planks, peering into doorways and out over the water, marveling at the buildings and the boats - and then she frowned.

“Where are they?” she asked.

“The people? There aren’t any,” I replied.

“The ones talkin’,” she said, as if it were obvious.

“I don’t think those are people,” I told her carefully.

She tilted her head, ears twitching. “Why not?”

“They’re… I don’t know what they are,” I admitted. “But they don’t talk back. They just whisper.”

She considered that, then smiled. “They wanna play.”

I froze as my stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“They wanna run. And jump! And - ” She flapped her arms excitedly. “-brint!”

“Fly,” Mirri said softly.

I crouched in front of Lilae. “Can you understand what they’re saying?” I asked.

She nodded and repeated the words as another whisper drifted past us. “Vael tarek thu.”

“Just take a step,” Mirri translated.

Another whisper followed, and Lilae echoed it without hesitation. “Thu velir thaen.”

“They hold faith in you,” Mirri said softly.

Mirri and I looked at each other, unease settling between us. I straightened and **** a smile. “I think we should head home now.”

“But we just came,” Lilae protested.

“We’ll come back soon,” I promised. I took her hand, then Mirri’s, and pulled the world around us back toward home.

* * *

Early the next week, Mirri reluctantly agreed to let Ashlara and me head to Northgate to look for work. I promised we wouldn’t be gone more than two weeks. She made us swear we’d come back safely - and made Ashlara swear to stop me from doing anything stupid. With my ability to use my demesne for quick travel, I promised that I would check in with her every few days

So we prepared to leave. We made sure there was enough meat to last at least three weeks, filled the water barrels, and packed our gear, readying ourselves for the road ahead.

We set out early the next day, heading south through the hills. As we walked, I asked Ashlara about orcs in general, and about their language in particular. I’d already told her I wanted to learn - partly to understand the world better, and partly to understand her.

She was uncomfortable talking about orcish culture. Whether that was because she doubted her own knowledge or simply didn’t like the subject, I couldn’t tell. Because of that, we mostly spoke about her language - Drath. She didn’t know why it was called that, or whether the word meant anything beyond the name itself.

We started with the simplest things. Yes was korr - roughly, it stands. No was vak - it breaks.

Those two words felt like a window into what little I’d seen of orcs so far - strength over subtlety, action over explanation. Much of Drath, it seemed, revolved around combat. Complimenting someone’s strength used the same phrase as “you cut clean”. “Let’s fight” translated to “we will cut each other”. “I will protect you” was closer to “I claim you as mine”.

That last one caught me off guard. When she explained it, Ashlara’s cheeks flushed a deep, familiar red.

We reached the plains a little after noon. We stopped for lunch and some sparring, then pushed on. After we made camp that night and ate dinner, I stepped into my demesne. We’d agreed it was better to test it now - to ensure distance didn’t matter. If it didn’t work, Ashlara could turn back early or I could head back out without losing too much time.

I found the constellation of Faith - three beacons now instead of four - and stepped toward them. They were all in the common room when I appeared. I hugged each of them, reassured Mirri that everything was fine, then stepped back out.

Ashlara glanced up when I returned to the campfire.

“It worked,” I said. “That should make getting home a lot quicker.”

She nodded.

I sat beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of the fire. “Thanks for coming with me,” I said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” she replied.

“I never doubted that you would,” I said quickly. “I just… I wanted to spend more time with you. It’s been a crazy few months. I know we see each other every day, but I wanted to spend some time together. Just us.”

She flushed, staring into the flames.

“I spend a lot of time with Mirri and Lilae,” I continued. “But you’re important to me too. I haven’t forgotten what you’ve done for me. I probably never can repay you - but I wanted to get to know you better. And maybe find a way to thank you.”

She fidgeted, eyes fixed on the fire. When I finished, there was a long silence.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said abruptly, standing.

I caught her hand and rose with her. “Hey,” I said softly - and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in and kissed her.

She froze. Her eyes went wide, her breath caught, her whole body rigid as our lips touched for the briefest moment. Then she shoved me hard enough to knock me off my feet and stormed out of camp.

I landed on my ass and watched her disappear into the dark.

I hoped Mirri was right.

* * *

Why had he done that?

The thought screamed through my head as I put distance between myself and the camp. After a hundred feet I couldn’t hear the fire anymore. The night air was cold against my skin, but it did nothing to cool my face. My chest felt tight - constricted - and it was hard to breathe. My legs were weak and part of me wanted to let them give out - to curl up somewhere in the dark - maybe in a bush where no one would find me - and stay there until morning.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. So I kept walking.

I’d kissed a boy once before. He’d told me I should be his girlfriend, and that girlfriends kissed their boyfriends. So I tried. It was awkward. Weird. And then he’d immediately wanted more. His hands went to my chest. I pushed him away. He told me that was just what boyfriends and girlfriends did. When I told him I didn’t want that anymore, he tried to make me. I broke his arm. After that, he left me alone.

Kissing Seth was… different.

It was still awkward, but it… it hurt. It hurt in my chest. I couldn’t figure out why. He hadn’t kissed me there. He hadn’t struck me. And yet the memory of his lips against mine made my chest uncomfortable even now, like a bruise that ached every time my heart beat.

I brushed my fingers against my lips. For a moment I could almost feel him there again. My face heated anew, my knees weakened, and the tightness in my chest grew worse.

Was I broken? Was this normal? How did he keep doing this to me? Why did he always make me feel foolish?

It felt cruel, and I hated it. I hated him. I never should have agreed to come on this trip. It was a mistake. But I couldn’t take it back. Changing my mind now would only make it worse. I’d look weak. Ridiculous. And he’d… he’d be angry. Or maybe disappointed.

I didn’t know why that thought upset me so much.

I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted to spend time with him. I was just horrible at it. The only time I wasn’t horrible was when we fought.

He’d been awful when we first started. So bad I’d thought about giving him his money back and telling him to quit. Instead, I pushed him, hoping he’d give up on his own. I pushed harder than I should have. But he never complained. Every time I knocked him down, he got back up. Every bruise, every ache - he shook it off and came at me again. He learned quickly. Faster than anyone I’d ever seen. He was strong now. Strong enough that he could probably beat most orc warriors in a fair fight.

And when we fought now, I didn’t feel foolish. He didn’t resent me for being better. He was grateful when I showed him something new. He didn’t sulk or rage when he made mistakes. He was focused. Driven. Powerful. Handsome-

Was he handsome?

I didn’t know where that thought came from. He was short. Pink. No tusks. No scars. And yet my stomach fluttered when I saw him without a shirt. My chest tightened when he smiled at me. And when I heard him with Mirri, I thought about him doing things with me - and then the heat and fear and weakness and shame crashed over me all at once, sending me into this confused spiral again.

What did he want from me? People were only kind when they wanted something. So what was it? Why was he nice to me? Why did he kiss me?

And why did I want him to do it again?