31. Find Me
Find Me
After the encounter with Zarrek, Kailorien opened a portal back to the Lattice and took Auryn to the Resh’Agar’s wing.
The Cycle of Dark painted the world in endless pitch, leaving most unable to decipher whether it was morning or night.
Only the Polis-lights, cued to light at certain hours with the help of Lattice Attendants, helped identify whether it was time to sleep or wake.
Those lights were dimmed now, signifying dusk. As he approached his wing, a great set of onyx, gold, and crimson-veined doors parted before him. The wards responded only to his, Auryn’s, and Lu’ma’s mana signatures.
He expected his suite to be empty, but the moment he stepped through the archway, a figure rushed forward dressed in violet and auburn robes. Her long pointed hood was pulled down, revealing a tight black bun fastened atop her head.
Lu’ma.
The Attendant’s robes flared with the motion of her signing. Hands fluttered, sharp and swift: 'Your Quintessence—she was not here—this Nameless searched—' Then she saw Auryn in his arms. Covered in blood. Bruised. Burned.
Her hands stilled. For the first time since he’d known her, Lu’ma froze. Paled. She’d seen Auryn in the throes of many Flares. Had even seen her sustain some minor injuries. But not like this.
Kailorien’s voice was low. Urgent.
“Run the bath, Lu’ma. Add Lustral runes. Suppression and regeneration class. Sut’rem for burns, Velin, and Ruun’se for shock. Keep the temperature lukewarm.”
Lu’ma blinked, snapped into motion, and signed without hesitation, 'Yes, Your Quintessence. This Nameless obeys.'
She spun on her heel and rushed to the bathing chamber, hands already signing magical commands into the Runewell embedded in the wall.
The floor pulsed beneath them. The rush of enchanted water echoed off the walls, spiraling and flowing through the carved lion-maw spouts on the ledge.
The room grew humid, thick with scented steam.
The air shimmered as the runes activated, soothing pulses of white-gold mana curling into the mist.
He carried Auryn past the vestibule, past the velvet divans and empty Sahtra stations.
Into the deeper chamber of his wing where he set her down on a low cushioned bench.
He began to undress her, murmuring reassurances as he tugged the bloodied, torn garments off her still form.
All the while, she looked at the floor, dazed.
Lost. Her eyes foggy and distant as though she’d lost track of her thoughts.
By the time he entered the bathing room, thick steam was already coiling through the air, fragrant with amberroot and myrrh.
A glowing green mist rose over the deep pool, the runes etched into the tiles pulsing in response to the Lustrals placed within.
Designed to siphon pain, accelerate healing, and numb the worst of the body’s fire.
He shed his own garments then stepped into the pool with Auryn in his arms, sitting on the ledge under the water. Her lips were pale. Blood had dried in her hair.
Lu’ma reentered, sleeves rolled, a stacked pile of linens and bandages in her arms. She did not sign.
She simply knelt beside them on the ledge above the water and began working.
Her touch was gentle as she untangled the mess that was Auryn’s hair, wiping blood from the strands and oiling the snarls to ensure she could brush them out painlessly.
As the Lustral water surrounded her, something in Auryn’s skin began to change.
A faint shimmer. A glow beneath the bruises.
Golden light Kailorien had seen many times.
Her body’s mysterious healing had begun.
Kailorien held her as Lu’ma worked. One arm around her back, one beneath her knees, fingers brushing her hip in slow, grounding circles.
“It’s alright now,” he murmured, again and again. “You’re safe.”
Lu’ma’s hands paused. A flicker of emotion crossed her expression before she bowed her head in silence and resumed her brushing.
“She went to the Commons alone,” Kailorien added, keeping his voice steady and gentle so he wouldn’t startle Auryn. “To tend to the sick in the temples.”
Lu’ma’s signing, when it resumed, was slower than before. 'Her Radiance always goes. Without fail. For countless Cycles now. These injuries—what happened this day?'
“Her list of enemies only grows.” His voice was raw. “She was ambushed.”
Lu’ma glanced at him, her eyes wide, and signed, 'This Nameless apologizes. Lost Her Radiance’s trail near the Axis Hall. No witness would speak. This Nameless searched, but—'
Kailorien shook his head. “If she doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.”
He kissed Auryn’s temple, his voice soft, coaxing, steadying her when the world tilted.
“Isn’t that right, starlight?” he murmured against her skin. “Look at all this fuss you’ve caused. Lu’ma was signing so fast when she saw you that her fingers will be sore for days.”
His fingers continued to stroke her back as Lu’ma kept brushing.
“I looked for you,” he went on, more gently now. “When the Reskala caught wind, they lined up to volunteer a search. You know they’ve taken a liking to their Sokar since you mandated Lustral baths in the barracks.”
His thumb traced the line of her jaw.
“You remember the lanterns, love? The ones you designed for the lower corridors? They're working. The Commons haven’t had a flare-out in weeks. Zhen’s team swore they saw mana flowing clear for the first time in decades.”
He smiled, brushing a curl back from her brow. She shivered in response.
“Even the children in the Han District are weaving your symbol into their ribbons. You’ve done more than you realize. Even now. Especially now.”
Shifting, she looked up at him, those words specifically—about the children—seeming to break through her fog.
“Are you with me, Auryn?”
She nodded. Just once. But her lips thinned into a tense line.
“You don’t need to say anything. Not until you’re ready. Just rest.”
He dipped one of the cloths Lu’ma brought into the warm water and let it trail slowly along the curve of her arm, careful around the scrapes where Lu’ma had already applied salve. Kailorien’s voice never stopped moving. Just above a whisper, steady as breath.
“The Varrow scholars have sent another invite to their symposium,” he murmured, brushing the cloth over her wrist. “They want you to speak on mana-flow recalibration theory. Half of them still can’t agree if you’re a prodigy or a heretic.”
He chuckled, low and fond. “I told them you’re both.”
A soft pause.
“You should’ve seen their faces when I mentioned your mana-weaving relay schematic. The one you sketched on the back of that spice wrapper, remember? Lu’ma saved it. Framed it, I think. It’s probably hanging beside her bedside table.”
Lu’ma’s hands paused. 'Your Quintessence, you are not being truthful.'
Kailorien glanced at her, but didn’t confirm it either way.
A quiet beat passed. He dipped the cloth again.
“And that trick you built for the Commons gates—what did you call it? A flux-trigger cascade? It’s still holding. No more blackouts during Dark. The Commons owe you much, Auryn. Much more than you think.”
He wrung out the cloth and trailed it down her collarbone. Lu’ma had finished tending her hair and now hovered at a respectful distance, pretending not to watch as she prepared a set of bandages to use once they left the water.
Kailorien leaned in, brushing a thumb lightly beneath Auryn’s chin.
“This isn’t like you, starlight,” he murmured, coaxing her face upward. “I’m here beside you. Naked. And you’re not even looking.”
A beat.
The corners of his mouth tilted. “Should I be worried about my place in your heart?”
He kissed her temple again, this time firmer, and gave a quiet hum as she leaned into him.
“Not looking, not touching…” He tilted his head closer, voice stirring the hairs along her neck. “Have you grown tired of me, my love?”
A sudden and soft snort of disbelief whooshed out of her. Her hand lifted, gliding over Ansuz on his chest and Hjarta above it.
He smirked then leaned in so close his lips brushed the shell of her ear, “Lately, it seems your hands are always so eager to explore my runes.”
Her hand paused. A breath later, her voice emerged, shattered and raw, but steady.
“Because,” she rasped, “they’re beautiful.” Her fingers curled against his skin. “Like you.”
He gave her a smile. The kind that curved slow and deep, reserved only for her. “So, you haven’t tired of me, then?”
She smiled back—a flicker, but real, the sound she made half exhaustion, half exasperation. “There is no realm,” she mumbled, “in which that would be possible.”
Her fingers slipped up to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him down with more insistence than strength.
A whispered tug. A plea written in touch instead of words.
Their lips met—soft at first. Searching—for herself, for anchoring, for the steady, endless love he always gave her without reservation.
And in turn, he searched for her in the fog of her pain, her grief, and her lingering fear.
Not of death, but of failing—of reaching but never touching.
She reached now. Kissed him not with fire—but with knowing.
Like she remembered every time he’d ever given her his hand in chaos and was searching for all of them at once.
He cupped her cheek, anchoring them both in that single point of contact.
His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw. His lips shaped themselves to hers.
And when they parted, he murmured against her mouth, “There you are.”
“You found me,” she breathed.
“My breath can never stray too far for me to reach,” he promised. “I’ll always find you and give you life again.”
“Then…can I sleep? Here?” she asked, placing her hand over his heart. “Just a little longer?”
“You never have to ask.”
He tipped up her chin, and their lips met once more. In breath. In union. Azure mana flowed from his cup to hers, and she took all of him into her core. With a sigh of relief, she let her soul wander from her skin, curling just beneath his ribs in the place where his heart beat in their Bond.
Leaving the fear, the death, the blood—even her fragile hope—behind, she closed her eyes and let his breath carry her to shelter.