47. Aspen
The training field stretches before me, a canvas of trampled grass and well-worn equipment. My footsteps echo in the early morning stillness as I make my way across the dew-dampened ground. The air is crisp with autumn's bite, charged like the moment before a storm breaks.
Kaia's presence lingers behind my eyelids every time I blink—an aura of power that I can't fully comprehend. Yesterday's training session haunts me: the way she seemed more alive, more confident than she has been. Over these last few weeks since the dance, it almost seems as if she's accepted we've got her back. I'm grateful for it, but the way Finn and Malrik talk about her shadows still troubles me.
"Come on, Aspen," I mutter, watching my breath mist in the air. "There's something you're missing. Something important."
The harder I try to grasp at the fleeting wisps of memory—of my mother's stories about shadow warriors, of ancient tales whispered around fires—the further they slip away. It's maddening, like trying to catch smoke with my bare hands. I know there's a connection that should mean something to me, but it's just out of reach.
I approach the weighted bags, stripping off my shirt and tossing it aside. The morning air sharpens my focus, a physical reminder that I'm here, that I'm fighting. My water rune pulses faintly, responding to the moisture in the air.
"You should have done more," I berate myself, clenching my fists. "Should have seen the signs with Darian sooner."
The first punch lands with a satisfying thud. Impact travels up my arm, grounding me in the moment. Each strike punctuates my determination to do better. Sweat beads on my forehead as my water rune pulses in rhythm with my movements, its blue light flickering brighter with every hit.
"Stupid, useless memory," I growl. "What good is being empathic if I can't even figure out how to help her?"
I pause, breathing heavily, hands braced against the bag. Something in the old stories nags at me—I can almost hear my mother's voice, recounting tales of shadow warriors who wielded magic as vast as the stars. But the details blur, like ink smeared on wet parchment.
"I won't let you down again, Kaia." The words carry the weight of an oath. "Whatever it takes, I'll figure this out. I'll keep you safe."
The sun climbs higher in the sky as I throw myself back into the workout, my muscles burning with the effort. The rhythmic thud of my fists against the bag is suddenly interrupted by a cheerful voice.
"Wow, what did that poor bag ever do to you?"
I whirl around to find Seren standing a few feet away. Her lavender hair shimmers in the sunlight, and her mismatched clothes are adorned with crystals and runes that catch the light.
These days, it's hard to know who to trust.
"Seren," I say, my voice guarded. "What brings you out here?"
She shrugs, her hazel eyes filled with genuine concern. "Just checking on you. You look like you're trying to punch your way through to another realm." She pauses, then adds softly, "How's Kaia doing? I haven't seen her since the dance. Not since... well, you know."
I study her face, searching for any hint of deception. The empath in me reaches out, testing the emotional waters. All I sense is sincere worry and a touch of protective anger—directed not at Kaia, but at those who might harm her.
"She's... managing. It's been a lot to process."
Seren nods, her expression somber. One of her runic charms flares briefly, its glow humming with an energy that feels both familiar and otherworldly.
"I can imagine. Those shadows of hers... they're something else, aren't they?"
My heart rate picks up. "You can see them?"
"No," she says, fidgeting with a crystal. "But sometimes, when the light hits just right, I swear I can feel them. Like they're watching. Protecting her." Her hazel eyes fix on mine. "Why? Can you?"
I hesitate, then trust my instincts—and my empathic senses. "No, unfortunately. But I know they're there. Always."
Her eyes widen, gold flecks catching the morning light. "Maybe knowing she's not alone would help more than hurt." She pulls out a crystal. "But that's not why I'm here. I saw Darian last week, being sketchy."
My jaw tightens. "How so?"
"He was throwing away ancient book pages—ones with runes that pulse when Kaia's nearby. It's almost like they're connected to her magic. Why would he discard them? It's as if he was trying to hide something—or worse, destroy it before we could figure it out." She leans closer, voice dropping. "And I saw him with another girl. But here's the weird part—when I tried to look at her, my eyes kept sliding away. Like she wasn't quite real."
An unsettling chill races down my spine. Who else could Darian be working with? And why did the thought of someone 'not quite real' feel so disturbingly familiar?
"The pages are warded in my room," Seren adds. "They kept trying to move on their own. I'll bring them when I get a chance—we can investigate together."
I can't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm, though the thought of self-moving pages unsettles me. "Sounds like a plan. And Seren? Thanks for looking out for Kaia. It means a lot."
Her expression softens. "She's stronger than she realizes, you know. But even the strongest people need someone in their corner." With a mock salute, she turns to leave, her charms tinkling softly in the breeze.
As her footsteps fade, I face the weighted bag with renewed purpose. Her unwavering confidence in Kaia has cut through my doubt, leaving behind focused determination. Each strike carries a promise now. The morning sun stretches across the field, and hope pierces through the darkness. I have a lead—and this time, Darian won't see us coming.