Chapter 13 – Dain #2
I leaned against the cool marble of the corridor wall and pressed my hand against my ribs.
The ache was worse. Not the sudden flares I’d grown used to, but something deeper: a grinding pressure that spread outward from the center of my chest. It hadn’t eased when I heard she was free.
Hadn’t loosened when I saw her breathing, alive, sitting upright. That was the part I couldn’t explain.
I told myself it was exhaustion. Stress.
The cost of fighting the council for nearly six days with no sleep.
But the pain had started the moment they took her, and it tracked her absence with a precision that had nothing to do with worry.
When I’d been close to her in the cell on the first night, it had dulled.
When they moved her to isolation, it intensified.
When they put her in the Black Cell, it had become constant.
That wasn’t grief or loyalty. It was something else—something physical, measurable, wrong—and I didn’t know what it meant.
I’d always been attuned to her. Knew when she was tired before she did, felt the shift in a room when she walked in, woke from sleep the moment her nightmares started down the hall.
I’d told myself it was habit. A mind bender’s instinct sharpened by five years of proximity.
But a habit didn’t make your chest feel like it was caving in when someone was taken from you.
A habit didn’t pulse with heat and pressure like something alive.
I straightened. Forced myself to breathe through it. She was out now. Safe. Under Myrin’s care. The pain didn’t ease.
I filed it away with the thing that had happened with Quinton—my magic working too easily, reaching too far. Something was shifting, and I didn’t have time to understand it.
Not yet.
I pushed off the wall and headed back toward the common room. The squad was waiting. And I had to tell them their captain was alive, even if she wasn’t really back yet.
The common room was silent when I opened the door. Everyone was on their feet the moment I stepped inside. Their faces were tight with hope and dread in equal measure.
“Well?” Reyna demanded.
I closed the door behind me. Let the weight of it settle before I spoke. “She’s out. She’s safe. Myrin has her in the emergency treatment wing.”
Relief broke across the room like a wave. Lyra sobbed quietly. Lirael’s shoulders sagged. Zephyr let out a breath he’d been holding for what felt like hours. But Quinton?—
Quinton stood frozen near the window, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. His eyes were locked on mine, searching for something I didn’t want to give him.
“But?” Kael asked quietly.
I forced myself to say it. “She’s not well.”
“What does that mean?” Reyna’s voice was careful now. Controlled.
“Sensory deprivation damage. Severe.” I kept my voice steady, clinical. “She’s disoriented. Non-responsive in places. Doesn’t recognize voices consistently. Flinches from touch.”
Elias closed his eyes briefly. Lyra pressed her hand to her mouth.
“How bad?” Quinton’s voice came out strained.
I met his eyes. “Bad.”
His hands curled into fists at his sides. Blood magic flickered faintly in the air: a copper tang, barely restrained.
“I saw her,” I continued. “She was… she wasn’t there. Not really. Kept twisting the silver band on her finger, over and over. Like it was the only thing keeping her anchored.”
“Did she recognize you?” Lirael asked quietly.
“No.” The word came out harder than I meant. “I said her name. Listed all of you. Tried to tell her everyone was safe.” I paused. Looked at Quinton. “She stopped twisting when I said your name.”
Something broke across his face. Pain so raw it made my chest ache to witness.
“She stopped,” I repeated quietly. “For a moment. Then I touched her hand, and she flinched. Started again. Faster.”
Quinton turned away abruptly, shoulders drawn tight. His breathing was uneven. Elias moved toward him, but Quinton shook his head once. Don’t. He settled beside his brother without a word.
“What’s Myrin saying?” Kael asked, voice tight.
“Recovery will take time. Days. Weeks. Maybe longer.” I looked around the room and met each of their eyes. “She’s implementing a strict recovery plan. Limited visitors. Short durations. We can’t overwhelm her.”
“When can we see her?” Reyna asked.
“Myrin’s working out a schedule. She’ll let us know.” I paused. “But we follow it. Exactly. No exceptions. Azaria needs time to stabilize before?—”
The door opened behind me. Tallis stepped in, arms laden with familiar gear. Artifacts. Blades. The white cloak was folded carefully on top. Thorne moved forward immediately, taking everything from Tallis without a word. He held the cloak for a moment, then folded it again with careful reverence.
“Thank you,” I said to Tallis.
He nodded once, then left.
Thorne carried the gear to the side table, setting each piece down with the kind of care you’d give sacred relics. The bracer, the belt, the ring, her blades. Proof she was coming back. Eventually.
“So we wait,” Zephyr said, voice flat.
“We wait,” I confirmed.
Quinton still hadn’t turned around. He stood at the window, shoulders rigid, one hand pressed flat against the glass. I could see his reflection. Eyes closed. Jaw working.
“Quin,” I said quietly.
He didn’t respond.
“He needs a minute,” Elias said, low. I gave him space.
The rest of the squad settled slowly—some sitting, some pacing, none of them relaxing. The tension hadn’t broken, only shifted from desperate fear to painful hope.
Reyna crossed her arms, staring at Azaria’s gear on the table. “She’s going to be fine, right?”
“Myrin will take care of her,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked.”
I didn’t have an answer for that. None of us did.
Lyra spoke up, voice small. “Can we do anything?”
“Yes,” I said. “We wait. We follow Myrin’s instructions. And we’re here when she’s ready.”
It wasn’t enough. I could see it on their faces. They wanted to do something, fix something, fight something. But there was nothing left to fight. Just time, and recovery, and the hope that the woman who came back would still be Azaria.
Quinton finally moved, turning from the window. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. “I want to see her,” he said, voice low. “As soon as Myrin allows it. I don’t care if it’s thirty seconds. I need to see her.”
“You will,” I said.
He nodded once. Then walked to the far corner and sat down heavily, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Elias sat beside him, saying nothing.
The rest of us settled into the long wait. No one left.
We were waiting for our captain to come back. However long it took.