An Inheritance of Fire

Gwyn jumped as Selerim slammed the door shut behind him. For a moment, she feared it would fly off its hinges. Instead, the frame merely cracked and splintered. She winced. They were still residents of Varus’ manor, and the idea of harming her benefactor in some way was an unpleasant thought.

Gwyn’s mother sat beside her, on one of the plush furnishings left in the ground floor of the building. Her face was flushed; evidence of her fight with Selerim. She leaned forward, face cupped in her hands as her elbows landed on her knees.

“Can you…?” Her voice was muffled.

“Sure.” Gwyn pushed herself off the furniture with a sigh. Such fights had become commonplace since Sel’s return, but this was the worst yet. She made her way to the door and tentatively pulled it open, half-fearing it would come loose.

Its frame flexed and creaked as it opened, but stayed in one piece. Gwyn squinted as the sunlight streamed into her eyes. Though she’d long since become accustomed to it, the bright light still blinded her momentarily. Her brother had it even worse.

As it cleared, the bustling street came into view, kept separate by the gate around Varus’ home. The way that people dressed here still struck her as odd; they seemed to prioritize appearance over use. It was hard to wrap her head around.

The gate was open, and the river people parted momentarily, allowing her to step in. For a moment, their eyes were drawn to her bone-white hair and blue eyes, but in the next, Gwyn was just another member of the crowd. She shivered. There was something scary about the thought.

As she followed the current, Gwyn’s eyes wandered from building to building, trying to best ascertain where Selerim might have gone. In many ways, the human city was his worst nightmare. It was bright, loud, and full of people.

Where would he go…?

Her eyes finally landed on the city wall. It was the tallest structure by twice, and most of the city failed to escape its sight. It was also constantly guarded.

He wouldn’t would he…? Gwyn sighed.

Of course he would.

It took her some time to find the nearest way up. The guards grumbled, but ultimately let her through. There was an unspoken rule, she’d learned, to let her kind be so long as they didn’t actively cause harm. She was happy to take advantage of it.

As was Selerim, apparently.

Gwyn felt a flash of annoyance as she pulled herself up the ladder’s rungs. She stifled it immediately. Her brother had clearly been through an ordeal of some sort during their separation. That much was clear, despite his refusal to speak on the matter– and the fights with their mother that always followed.

His odd clothing was proof enough, but he came bearing stranger things. His sword, for one, was made of wood, yet still deadly sharp. The chain and dagger their father used before his own Feast was nowhere to be seen. It was ironic, in a way. Selerim’s eyes were the most noticeable change, but the easiest to overlook.

Gwyn looked to the right as her head poked out the top. Nothing. Then to the left– and stopped her brother. He wore that odd cloak of his; it was so dark that it stood out against the daytime bright.

It took her some time to reach his side. Selerim stayed silent as she threw her arms over the side, joining him in staring out into the dark of Umbra. His eyes were fixed on something far beyond what either of them could see.

The ruins of their home, Cress. It still didn’t feel real– she’d not seen it for herself– but there was no reason to doubt her family members. Especially not in regards to something so serious.

Gwyn peered up at him. His eyes had changed color in the time they were apart. Once light blue, they were now pale violet, presumably changed by whatever Reaver he’d Feasted on. The biggest change, though, went beyond the physical. She had long accepted Selerim’s wariness as a good thing. It kept him alive in the dark of Umbra, and that was a decidedly good thing.

But since his return, she’d come to understand the changes in that wariness. There was a new edge to it, one step removed from paranoia; fueled by certainty rather than fear. And there was a brittleness to it that she couldn’t quite describe– as if it would shatter at the slightest push. She was sure her brother’s reluctance stemmed from that brittleness.

Gwyn was the first to break the silence. “She’s just worried, you know.” The words lingered between them for a long while.

“... I know.” Her brother’s voice was raw with emotion.

“Then why do you keep getting angry? She just wants you to talk to us. That’s it.” She paused. “Do you not want to talk to us?”

“That’s not it.” The emotion in Selerim’s voice gave way to frustration.

“Then what is it?” That question lingered for even longer. This time, her brother was the first to break the silence.

“... I don’t know.” The emotion in his voice was replaced with frustration.

“What don’t you know?”

“Where to begin. I just… don’t know where to begin.” Selerim’s head fell, and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the merlon in front of him. Gywn heard him take a trembling breath before continuing. “I was there when Cress was destroyed. When it burned. I… Senri, Verad, Saya. They’re all dead.” His voice was hoarse, now. “I buried them.”

Gwyn’s heart broke. She’d guessed as much, but hearing the hurt in his voice…

“And everything after that…” Her brother laughed. “It’s so insane that you’d never believe it. I can hardly believe it.”

She stayed quiet a moment longer, sure there was more to come.

“And… now, whenever I think about it, I just get so angry. Everything else just goes black, and…” Selerim took a trembling breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was hardly above a whisper. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose control.”

Gwyn closed her eyes at that. “You’re afraid you’re going to hurt us.” His silence was answer enough. She sighed. “Idiot.” In all their years of life, this was the one habit of Selerim’s that frustrated her to no end. He was willing–happy, even– to suffer in solitude.

“You’re not being fair to us,” she said gently. “Mom and I aren’t stupid. We can see that you’re hurting. We just want you to tell us why. We’re your family. Aren’t we supposed to be there for you?”

He seemed not to have an answer for that one.

“Idiot,” she said again.

Linua turned as the door opened, worried for a split second that a stranger would greet her. She’d met some of Varus’ other patients, and though they seemed kind enough, they made her days even more uncertain.

That fear fell away as she saw Gwyn and Selerim standing in the doorway, but was quickly replaced with trepidation. Selerim’s eyes were downtrodden, and his whole body trembled.

She mentally scolded herself. Knowing what happened to Cress was important, but it would change nothing. It wasn’t worth making Selerim relive it. The dead lacked the strength to change the world, after all. Linua sighed. “If you don’t want to talk about it…”

He cut her off with a shake of the head. “I do.” She could hear the tears in his voice. “I just… don’t know where to start.”

Linua stood up and pulled her son into a hug. “Start wherever you think is best,” she whispered. “But if you can wait until we reach Gwyn’s room…”

Selerim nodded. It took them a moment to reach her room. Though meant for a single person, it was more than large enough to accomodate the three of them. As soon as the door closed behind her son, his entire body shuddered once.

The words that spilled out were incomprehensible, fueled by emotion rather than rational thought. “Wait.” Linua pulled her son into another hug. “It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear. “There’s no rush. Take your time.”

So he did.

Selerim started with the ceremony, and his Feast that followed. Linua felt equal parts pride and terror at the recollection of his hunt. Those quickly turned to horror as he went on to retell the fall of Cress, then disbelief as he described how the mage tore him to pieces; and, finally, gratitude that he’d survived the encounter.

Everything that came after was harder to believe.

The outsiders– elves.

And he’d traveled to their kingdom. Killed one of them, even.

And they just let him leave? It was hard to believe– even if his recount of Veile’s recollection was accurate. Selerim was skilled, she knew, but that mattered little in the face of magic. Or politics, for that matter.

Still, there was no reason to doubt Selerim. He had never been one for jokes, and especially not about such serious matters. What came after his tales was a blur. By nightfall, Linua found herself lying on the floor, with Gwyn sandwiched between herself and Selerim. A mattress, taken from Gwyn’s bed, was awkwardly squashed under the three of them.

This was a tradition during the many sleepless nights of Gwyn’s childhood, and one that resurfaced after their reunion. Her daughter clutched one of Selerim’s hands as she slept, having refused to let go once he’d finished speaking.

Linua fought the urge to shiver as Selerim looked up at her. His violet eyes were still unnerving. When he spoke, his voice was raw. “There’s one more thing.”

Gwyn shifted, and his eyes glanced down, only flicking back up once she quieted. “Corvus… entrusted me with something.”

She nodded. That was hardly surprising. The two were always close, even after Selerim completed his apprenticeship.

“A letter,” he said quietly. “If I send a letter, our people stop trading with the elves. Or whoever they decide is responsible. Maybe they deserve it.” His voice turned fierce at that last sentence.

“So why haven’t you?” Linua asked gently. She knew the reason already: deep down, her son was kind. It made her proud, in a way. His hesitance in condemning a country was proof of his good heart.

“I killed people.” His voice cracked. “Some of them deserved it, but… if I send this letter, aren’t I killing all of them? Even the people my age. How many more people like me would I create?”

Linua felt a flash of annoyance. She doused it immediately. Corvus was gone. Dead. Any grudges she had died with him.

Still… he had saddled her won with such a great responsibility.

“And,” Selerim continued softly, “Viria/ I care about her… I don’t want to hurt her.”

She smiled. There was such in his voice when he spoke of her. The outsider turned elf. A part of her resented Viria. She’d kept Selerim from them– and perhaps played a role in the loss of their home Another, larger part, was grateful to her. If her son had been left all alone…

Linua sighed. “Corvus shouldn’t have burdened you with such a heavy duty,” she said firmly. “So let me bear it.” She reached out to touch Selerim’s face as she spoke. “So long as you trust me to make the right decision.”

He nodded once.

“Spend some time with your sister in the city tomorrow. I’ll make a decision while you’re gone.”

Another nod.

“Then you should get some sleep now.” She smiled gently. “Otherwise you’ll have a hard time keeping up with Gwyn tomorrow. Trust me.”

Selerim nodded yet again before closing his eyes, and before long, his breathing steadied. Knowing that he slept lightly, Linua forced her body to still even as her thoughts wreaked havoc on her She’d already made her decision.

It was ironic. One letter, and a country would be brought to its knees. Linua sighed. Nyx wouldn’t listen to her, but a letter from Eros would suffice. As long word reached another village head, that was all that mattered.

She shuddered. Selerim was right. It was no different than beheading them herself. But for all his faults, Corvus was right.

Blood demanded blood.

A price had to be paid.

Even if it was many times greater.

For the first time since reuniting with his family, Selerim slept peacefully. After their tearful reunion, his time with Gwyn and their mother was only ever a word away from devolving into an heated argument.

The negativity was made all the worse by Selerim’s knowledge that fault lay entirely with him. Gwyn’s bone-white hair, the same color as his, came into view as he opened his eyes. It framed her small face neat and draped over his captive arm.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time I felt this light? Selerim wondered. It was as if a Reaver stepped off his shoulders– and left another smaller one in its place. Unbidden, Veile’s words, spoken months ago, came rushing back.

I need you to remember what it is that you’re protecting.

Though uttered across a sea of shadow, her words were always close to his thoughts, waiting to seize control at the slightest distraction.

Selerim sighed. It was hard to believe her. She’d lied to him– by omission, if not directly– and she’d used him.

But none of that mattered.

He’d seen proof enough of her abilities. And, even if she were lying to him, if there was even the slightest chance that she was telling the truth…

Selerim’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing. Gwyn stirred as he pulled his arm free and sat up to face the newcomer– their mother. He looked down to the left, surprised to find her spot empty.

“I didn’t hear you leave.”

She smiled slightly, creasing the dark bags under her eyes. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t learn to walk without waking my son?” His mother leaned down to ruffle Gwyn’s hair as she spoke. “Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Gwyn opened her eyes, blinking twice before sitting up unsteadily. “What is it?” She asked blearily.

“How about you spend today in the city with your brother? Without me.”

Gwyn’s eyes opened wide at that. “Really?!”

Linua laughed. “I feel left out now,” she said, pouting playfully. “But yes, really. You two should spend some time together without me– and I have things to take care of.”

“Like what?” Selerim asked cautiously.

His mother’s expression darkened. “I need to figure out what we’re going to do about lodging. Varus has offered his home, but we can’t stay here forever.” She scowled. “And everything here costs money.”

The wooden bracelet on Selerim’s bracelet was suddenly very heavy. “I might have a solution,” he said quietly. “I just… need to figure it out.” That small bracelet carried all of the Hearts and pelts that were left in Cress– but he had no way of accessing it.

“The bracelet?” His mother asked. Her expression tightened as she nodded. “I know you trust Viria, but you should be careful. Our experiences with magic…” she trailed off with a grimace.

“I know.” Selerim’s gut clenched at the word magic. The mysterious power that reduced his home to rubble in a single night. He hesitated for a moment, struck by a thought.

“The doctor watching over Gwyn. Do you trust him?”