6. Tipping Point
Tipping Point
Still waiting.
Always waiting.
If I walk far enough… if I wait long enough…
You’ll find me, won’t you?
Kailorien awoke with painful, sluggish reluctance. For the first time in decades, his body had been truly resting. For once, no strange dreams plagued him. No voices in the dark whispering of war and battle and duty. No pain from his runes, no whispering from Vargrún at the base of his neck.
Just blissful, rare, and peaceful silence. A miracle, much like what had happened the night before. He still couldn’t believe it.
He’d returned from the war in the Ebon Sanctuary with a single-minded purpose.
To find Auryn, to talk to her, tell her everything that was in his heart.
No more silence. No more secrets. He’d prepared for a battle, hard-fought and long.
A war of attrition against all the armor she’d donned over years of suffering.
On his account, no less. On account of the man hiding behind the Resh’Agar.
Cowering behind duty, responsibility, and fear.
Fear of failing the Shields. Of Vargrún taking all Kailorien would claim to love. And the worst—fear of losing Auryn.
Yet, despite all he'd done to stop it, he’d lost her anyway, her body torn apart by those who called her Sokar, her power barely kept hidden from their prying, greedy eyes.
It was all he could do to interfere with the Council’s true wishes—their plans to turn her into a martyr, an experiment, or worse.
He’d paid for her protection in blood, in pride, in living memory.
He would have given more – much more – to see her safe.
He’d returned prepared to fight. Whatever she needed, he would give. When the Bond between them faded into silence, he could no longer feel her, hear her, know her, and that unknowing had broken every bone in his body as surely as a warhammer.
Last night, she’d given him everything. Without question. Without hesitation. As though she, too, was broken and needed mending.
The Bond had returned, her presence filling him in ways that made him whole.
His breath caught at the flash of memory.
Of her scent, her sighs, her sweet moans.
Of the way her body had welcomed his. Her tears, luminous and salty against his tongue.
Her soft thighs against his waist. Her lovely lips, pliant and daring beneath his own.
As more memories surfaced of soft skin, silver eyes, and starlit hair, he reached out blindly to pull Auryn closer to him.
Come back to me…
…you’ll come back…
…won’t you?
His eyes opened. Half-lidded. Heavy.
His hands skimmed over silken black sheets and fluffed golden pillows.
The place beside him was empty. Cold. As though Auryn had never been there.
Confused, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair.
He stretched and stood, thinking she’d left to bathe.
He couldn’t help but smile at the thought—at how they’d been so tangled in each other’s bodies and souls that they hadn’t wanted to do anything other than collapse in bed and fold into each other.
As he stood, he donned one of his casual black undershirts and stepped into some loose pants. Tying a silk sash around his waist, he went to the bathing chamber.
The pool lay still and silent.
Towels scattered all over the floor like they’d been last night.
A vial of fragrant oil was left open near the edge of the basin.
“Auryn?” he called, but only silence answered.
They say you won’t come.
They say…forgotten me.
But I will believe.
…will keep believing…
The voice wasn’t part of his own thoughts and dreams. It was hers, and it sounded distant, confused, lost.
Auryn…where are you?
Kailorien…
…come back to me…
…you’re here…if I just walk a little farther…
Each time he heard her voice, it sounded more and more disjointed. As though fading. Unraveling.
He went back to the main chamber. Her sandals lay discarded at the foot of the bed. Her glowshawl was draped over a chair, abandoned. All possible. All plausible.
But then he saw her satchel.
Also discarded by the bed.
Also abandoned.
And his heart sank like a stone into his gut.
Then came the pain in his head.
Like someone stabbing a flaming iron brand right into his temple.
Kailorien staggered.
Nearly fell as something cracked in his leg.
Flaring pain in his whole body—ribs, elbows, palms, neck.
A thousand needles shot through his chest.
The Bond screamed.
Then died.
No thoughts. No words. No pulse of her presence.
The world spun, and he brought his hands to his face as though the motion could somehow still it. He didn’t stop calling to her. Shouting. Begging. Pleading for her to respond.
Nothing came. Just silence.
He surged to the door and threw it open with enough force to crack the crystal handle. Darkness greeted him, and Kenaz flared to life, allowing him to see as though it were daylight.
Auryn! I’m coming.
Nothing.
His blood ran cold.
With a curse, he slammed his hand against the rune on his thigh—Raidō—and the world blurred. The halls bent around him as he ran, shadows streaking past like ribbons of ink. Something flared through the Bond, and he stopped to listen.
Kail…
He choked on her name and swore again.
Auryn, talk to me! Where are you?
Her pain crackled down the Bond like static—too sharp to ignore, too faint to follow.
Forgot to ward…door…
…walked…far…
…hurts…
Hallways blurred past. Corridors. Doorways.
He focused in on the heat from his tether to her, trying to feel for a direction.
A clue to her location. Anything. He turned when a violet-clad figure came into view, stopping so fast the Veil shuddered at his heels, shaking the Polis itself, emerald lightning flaring through its latticework like cracks in glass.
A girl—an Attendant—pinned against the wall in a glowing containment web. Her mouth was open, no sound emerging, skin covered in sweat. Her limbs twitched as she fought the spell, her brown eyes looking right into his, hanks of damp black hair falling over her face. Desperate, but not afraid.
Determined.
Kailorien reached down and shattered the sigil with one swipe of his hand, cracking the clumsy spellwork with a flare of blue light.
The moment the loop released, the Attendant slumped forward and pressed her face to the ground in a trembling bow.
Her fingers moved wildly, signs scrawled in air: Her Radiance—please help! Her Radiance fell!
“Where?” he demanded, dropping to her side. “Where is she?”
She looked up at him with eyes full of fire and fury, pushed to her feet, and ran. Kailorien followed, stunned for half a heartbeat that she wasn’t afraid of him, that she hadn’t cowered or bolted or vanished behind a veil of silence like other Attendants he’d met.
They sprinted through the darkened corridor, and as they neared the Vesper Stair, the air changed. Crisper. Colder. Thinner.
Starlight, answer me! Tell me you’re still with me…
At last, he saw her.
Sprawled at the base of the staircase, her body small and still.
She sat up against the wall, the thick flowing skirts of her dress draped over the stairs like a gossamer veil.
Long hair spread across the stone in a curtain.
Her ankle was swollen and twisted. Silver blood smeared across her temple and trailed from the corner of her mouth.
He jumped.
Down.
All the way down.
Landing with a quake on the steps below her, heedless that the impact shattered stone. She didn't flinch at the impact or the deafening sound. He knelt, his hands hovering above her. Afraid to touch her.
“Auryn,” he choked, gathering her tiny hand in his. “I’m here…look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered open. Only one of her grey pupils contracted at the light. Her gaze was unfocused. Bleary.
“Kail…I slipped…”
“How?”
She reached for him, and he bent down so she could touch his face. “Will heal…soon. Don’t be angry.”
It’s not the first time…
…was just careless…
He didn’t remember breathing—only the sound of his own heart, roaring in his ears like a tide gone mad. Kailorien slipped one arm beneath her shoulders, the other beneath her knees. Her hair spilled over his arm, her breath a feather-soft tickle against the hollow of his throat.
“Tell me,” he whispered, the words cracking on their way out. “Tell me how this happened.”
She blinked slowly, her eyes swimming, the blood at her temple starting to dry. Her mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. Instead, her thoughts bled into his through the Bond—faint, unguarded, aching.
Don’t be afraid…
I walked in my sleep…slipped…
It happens sometimes…
I’m sorry I frightened you…
His throat tightened.
Sometimes?
You’ve done this before? Walked in your sleep?” he asked aloud, more to himself than to her. “Void, Auryn—how long?”
She didn’t answer. Not with words. But her gaze lowered, and the ghost of a memory slid into his mind—a vision of her drawing runes on her chamber door. A ward. A barrier. A prison of her own making. To protect herself.
They liked to push. The Companions. Liked to hex, and cut, and burn when she walked without awareness. She could shield herself, but not when sleepwalking. Not when her mind was lost.
He clenched his jaw.
Her hand reached up, feather-light, brushing weakly against his chest. Pain surged again, radiating from her ankle like fire, her head ringing with every step.
Her ribs were sore, likely bruised. But she was still conscious.
Still aware. Still herself. He bowed his head, pressing his cheek to hers, careful not to touch the wound.
For a moment, he simply breathed her in.
Felt her warmth. Her weight in his arms. The way she breathed. In and out. Steady and soft.
“You’re going to be alright. I promise you. You won’t move another step without me. You hear me?”
You’re fussing, Resh’Agar.
“I’m taking you back to my wing,” he said.
She tried to protest. The Bond flared with her resistance. Her magic stirred again, curling through her body like mist returning to a wounded forest. Her next thought whispered through his mind.