Chapter 15 Harbinger #3
“Nah.” A sardonic smile tugged at my lips as a memory surfaced.
Conin and I hunched over his strategy board, him planning each move while I relied on instinct and luck.
“He’s playing games. Testing his pieces before the real match starts.
” A sharp stab pierced my skull, and I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“He’ll come for me next time,” I continued.
“Won’t just blast me from a distance. That’s cheating in his book. ”
I turned toward Sabin, and my vision blurred. The world went askew.
His hazel eyes bled into molten amber. Features I knew as well as my own reflection superimposed themselves over his face like a double exposure.
My pulse hammered against my ribs. No, not now.
I recognized the signs but couldn’t stop the slide. The present dissolved like smoke.
My brother materialized across from me, hunched over the maple Go board we’d set up on the stone steps outside Dad’s study.
Moonlight carved shadows across his face—the same angular features as mine but softer, not yet hardened by decades of war.
His jaw hadn’t filled out completely, still carried that youthful sharpness that made the ladies whisper behind their open fans.
Silver-white hair cascaded over his forehead as he studied the board, identical to mine but longer, the way he’d worn it before his wolf awakened.
When he looked up, crimson rimmed his citron irises.
They flared bright before his fangs flashed with his smile—his tell when he was about to crush me at our game.
“Your move, brother.” His voice carried the confidence of someone who’d never tasted defeat. “Though we both know how this ends.”
Pine and snow drifted around us, mixed with the familiar musk of our home. I could feel the weight of the gold torque against my throat, warm from my skin, its intricate knotwork pressing into my pulse. The carved wolf heads at each end rested heavily on my clavicles.
“Do we?” My stone piece slid forward with a soft click, claiming territory he’d left undefended. “You always were too confident for your own good.”
Conin laughed, a bright sound I’d thought lost forever. “Says the brother who taught me everything I know.” He countered my move with effortless skill. “Tell me, Radolf—when you portal into battle, do you still hear Dad’s voice? ‘Strategy without honor is mere butchery?’”
Dad’s favorite lesson, drilled into us during countless evenings just like this one. Back when the worst threat we faced was losing a challenge of dominance.
“Every time,” I admitted, reaching for my next piece.
“Good.” A predatory gleam flickered behind Conin’s eyes.
His familiar features wavered, replaced by something darker, more monstrous.
A shadow with too many teeth that I couldn’t quite focus on.
Then his face returned, but wrong somehow.
Alien. “Because what I’m planning for you and your guild—it’s going to be beautiful in its precision.
You’ll appreciate the artistry, even as it kills you. ”
“Cap!” Sabin’s voice pulled me from the vision with cold hands. “Snap out of it!”
The board vanished. Pine scent evaporated. My hand flew to my throat. No torque, just bare skin and the silver chain where Conin’s opal pendant hung from.
The world snapped back into painful focus with Sabin gripping my shoulders, his face creased with worry.
“You back?” he asked, voice tight, before releasing me.
“Yeah.” I scrubbed my face with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “How long?”
“Few minutes. Your marks were showing, man.” Sabin’s jaw worked as if he were chewing gravel. “You never let it get that far. This is happening more often?”
More than I wanted to admit. The episodes had started in childhood, brief flashes where I’d see people I’d never met, places that didn’t exist on any map. Strange landscapes populated by even stranger creatures, conversations in languages I didn’t speak but somehow understood.
My parents dismissed it as an overactive imagination. Said they’d fade as I grew older. They did. Most of the time.
Then the war started, and they came roaring back.
Worse after finding Conin’s frozen corpse.
What used to last a heartbeat now stole whole seconds, sometimes minutes.
Pearl thought the childhood episodes were signs of latent magical sensitivity.
Cracks in my mind that made me susceptible to inheriting my clan’s powerful magic.
That using Chronoportal, opening doorways between worlds, had widened those old fractures.
Made sense, and I never corrected her.
Because the truth had nothing to do with my clan’s magic. In the space between sleeping and waking, I experienced lives I’d never lived, caught memories that weren’t mine. But that was my burden to carry. Had been since the beginning of time.
“I’m fine,” I said when Sabin’s scowl deepened.
“Bullshit.” He leaned closer, studying my face. “You were smiling while you talked to him. It’s the first time I’ve seen you look at peace since we found his body.”
My gut twisted. Even knowing what Conin had become, part of me still missed my little brother. Still wanted to believe I could save what was left of him.
“Don’t lose your head when we’re this close,” Sabin warned. “I need you sharp for when the time comes. Don’t let emotions get in your way. Not if you’re really going along with Aurora’s plan and risking yourself.”
“I know.” I straightened, voice firm. “Won’t happen again.”
His expression said he didn’t believe me, but he nodded anyway. “Better not. Because if you crack up on me now, I’ll drag you back to reality myself.” He popped his knuckles for emphasis. “Even if I have to beat some sense into your thick head.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. Leave it to Sabin to threaten violence as a form of care.
“Sabin?” I cleared my throat, then forced the words out. “You know what you mean to me, right?”
“Woah.” He pulled back, eyeing me with suspicion. “I love you too, man, but that sounds ominous as hell.”
“The Shepherd won’t stop coming after you to get to me.” I broke eye contact, staring at the candlelight flickering through the wooden boards nailed over the window frames. “Every time he attacks, more of you die. And for what? Because I can’t let go of my dead brother?”
“Stop right there.” Sabin grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to face him. “You think we’re here out of pity? Think we don’t know what we signed up for?”
“You signed up to fight Souleaters, not to be bait for—”
“We signed up to follow you. Our Harbinger.” His grip tightened. “Through whatever hell you drag us into. That includes your psychotic family reunions.”
I stared at him, throat tight. “Even knowing how this ends?”
“Especially knowing how this ends.” He released my shoulder, and for a moment I thought I saw tears in his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice sounded deeper than usual. “‘‘What kind of fool throws in the towel just because the end’s coming?’”
Quakelord’s words. My throat constricted.
“We made our choice long ago,” he continued, looking me dead in the eyes. “All that’s left is following it.”
I turned away, blinking hard against the sting behind my eyes. A laugh escaped me, raw, grateful. “I don’t deserve you bastards.”
“No, you don’t.” His expression softened, as did his voice. “Lucky for you, we’re too stubborn to find better company.”
I patted his shoulder and rose to my feet. “I need to go. The commandant is waiting for me,” I said and walked toward the portal crackling in the middle of the shooting range. The cold darkness called to me, promising escape from the fire blazing in my chest.
“Better get up there and finish changing those numbers.” I nodded toward the house where our shrinking count waited. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Good luck,” Sabin called after me. “And come back in one piece.”
The darkness swallowed me before I could promise something I might not be able to keep.