29. Wingbeat in Silence #3
Auryn blushed crimson, brushing blood from her arms more for something to do than any real concern. “Zarrek, you’ve returned for minutes, and you’re already teasing?”
Zarrek chuckled and helped her to her feet, steadying her as her knees trembled beneath her.
“Need to keep you distracted. You look like you’re about to fall over.”
Auryn glared. “I don’t have such a weak stomach,” she bit out.
“Aye, that I recall. Good to see you haven’t gone soft.”
He looked her over. Once. Twice.
“You’re mostly in one piece.”
“Thanks to your timely intervention,” she mumbled, her voice thick with emotion. “Those Gliders cut through the Reskala so easily...”
Zarrek made a dismissive sound. “You haven’t seen real Glider warriors. Those were low-born scouts. Had it been Apexwings, neither of us would be here talking.” Zarrek’s mouth twisted in distaste. “Apex don’t fight in groups. One's enough to decimate a battalion.”
His gaze flicked to her bloodstained robes. “You’d have bled before you saw them coming.”
She wanted to ask him what that meant, wanted to ask him what he was doing here, but he was already looking around, shouldering his weapon, pulling his hood over his head.
“Wait…Zarrek…”
“Don’t tell him you saw me.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Resh. Don’t need him to know I was here. I’m not staying. Don’t know if I ever meant to. Just…heard a rumor. Someone I thought was long gone might be alive and here in the city.” His voice dipped lower. “Had to see if it was true.”
He didn’t say the name. But her heart fluttered all the same. Her hand came up to stroke the golden braid at her shoulder. His eyes caught it, and she—in turn—caught the way he drew back, as though expecting a blow. She kept her questions sheathed, though they burned within her heart.
“Zarrek,” she protested. “Why hide?”
He shrugged one shoulder, looking up toward the higher tiers. “Because if Resh sees me, I won’t be able to leave. And I’m not sure I’m ready to be known again. Not by him. Not by anyone.”
There was a long silence. Auryn wrung her hands in front of her. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I don’t know why that feels so strange to admit.”
Zarrek tilted his head at her, studying her face. “You’ve changed.”
She looked down at her blood-soaked hands. “I had to.”
“Don’t look any different, but you seem older,” he said. “Sharper. Like you’re finally growing into the flame everyone feared you’d be.”
Her lips curved. “That’s an ominous assessment.”
“It’s a compliment.” He hesitated, then added, “How is he?”
“Carrying too much, as always.”
Zarrek gave a quiet grunt of agreement. “Some things don’t change, I guess.”
There was a beat. Then two.
“They won’t stop,” he said suddenly. “The Gliders. Killed two, but the Matriarch doesn’t care about losses. She’s put out a bounty on you. You’ve become dangerous. A symbol. She wants you gone before the city and the rebels start believing in you.”
Auryn swallowed. “So it’s real? The Cataclyss?”
He gave her a sidelong look. “More real than the city that forgot it. I’ve walked its paths. And so have others. Krystopolis isn't the only power that's got eyes on you now.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“But, I haven’t even done anything of note. I’m just the Sokar.”
“You’re changing things, and the rule of thumb is that people in power don’t like change unless they’re the ones starting it.”
“I haven’t…” she hesitated. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’ve done enough to catch their eye.”
She shook her head, disbelieving.
“Have to go,” Zarrek said. “Stayed too long already.”
He turned away, shadows curling at his heels as he stepped toward the alley’s edge. Auryn moved without thinking. Her boots splashed in blood and ash as she caught up to him, grabbing his cloak, her voice breaking as she cried, “Don’t go!”
He stilled. And for a breathless second, the silence between them held all the weight of decades.
She clung to the fabric, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Zarrek…I tried to stop them…for her. For you. I signed the Decree, but the Council gutted it within a year. Said it was unsustainable…”
The Decree of First Breath—a mandate to prevent the Repurposing of infants born wrong. To give them a chance at life.
His voice tightened. “You remembered. Didn’t have to, but you did. I never even told you. You just…saw it…way back when, in the swamps. Before I even knew how to respect you properly.”
“But…your daughter…”
“She would’ve liked you,” he murmured. A pause, a breath. Then his mouth twisted. “Not her father, though. Not the coward who couldn’t stop them.”
His jaw worked, as though he wanted to deny her words, but failed. For once, he looked less like the Bloodletter and more like a man. Tears stung the corners of Auryn’s eyes, but there was nothing more she could have said on the topic. He tried to move again, but she held fast.
“Please don’t make me keep this secret for you. Kailorien would want to know you’re alright. I know it haunts him, the way we left Stonewake.”
Zarrek’s breath hitched. Not loud, but enough for her to feel the movement beneath her cheek. She clung tighter.
“We believed you and…Thessia…were dead,” she whispered. “We thought we lost you. And I—I couldn’t even say your name without feeling like I was going to fall apart.”
Slowly, one of his hands came up to rest atop her arm. A rare, careful gesture.
“I’m not ready,” he said after a long pause, voice rough. “And neither is he. Rumor is, he took the Rite of Scars.”
She gasped, looking up at him.
"I know what that magic is. Never thought he'd use it, but if there was ever cause, it's you."
Her tears spilled over.
"He doesn't remember her, Zarrek… Thessia…"
He nodded, grim. "Must've meant a lot to him, for the magic to take her. You'll find a way."
“But —”
“Let me get my footing, little star.” He turned within her hold until they were face to face. His expression was tender in the way only Zarrek could be — one brow lifted, understanding breaking through the intimidating scarred visage of a brutal warrior.