Page 55 of Ashen Wings

"You're from Sovereign right, Nova?" Wren asks.

"I was raised in Smoke." I start for the third nest. Thaye eyes me with a narrowed gaze.

"I heard the people in Smoke are fireproof. Is that true?" Wren asks.

"Oh gods no," I say. "Made from basalt and ash, perhaps, but definitely not fireproof."

His brow knits as he holds out the pail.

"Made from violence and blood is more like it," Thaye bites, taking the pale before again tossing its contents down the ravine.

The rest of the afternoon continues much the same, clearing each nest and avoiding jumpy hatchlings. By evening, my body aches and I’m nowhere near closer to an answer I seek. A hot bath back at Yaris’s and a quiet evening in the study calls my name as I offer a quick goodbye to Thaye and slip back into the streets.

“Breathe Nova, let the water call to you as you inhale.” Yaris places a gentle hand on my shoulder. We’ve been at this for the last hour, seated beside one another cross-legged. The crease in my brow is starting to cramp. No matter how hard I focus, how much I concentrate, nothing speaks to me, nor does the bowl vibrate or hum as Yaris describes.

“Fuck, Yaris, it’s not going to happen. We can’t force a connection if it’s just not there,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. He sighs and kneels over the bowl.

“These things take time, my dear. Patience is everything. You can’t expect to leap into the astral plane on your first few attempts. Astora’s servants took years to master this, you’ve been practicing for what, a week and a half?” He offers a comforting smile. “Just keep practicing.”

I click my tongue and leave the velvet floor cushion to grow cold. My knees ache as I straighten them. How long have we been down here? An hour or all night? It’s far more humid than normal, and the smell of the air is slightly more earthy. Another storm’s approaching, or it’s already arrived.

“One more time before we call it a night.” I run a hand over my cracking joints. “This time I’ll try standing. Maybe a change of position will help.”

Yaris nods and settles back into his seat. My stomach grumbles in protest, but I swallow the late night sweet craving and approach the bowl again. The swirling opalescent water inside refracts the flicker of candlelight like little amber stars on its surface. If I squint, and level my gaze with the waterline, it’s almost like I’m seeing the cosmos themselves.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Yaris crosses his arms and nods to the bowl.

“Right.” I close my eyes. The cellar, the earth, the dirt, gods, even the wriggling little worms, fade with each drawn breath. I focus inward, leaving the sounds of a settling foundation and creaking beams to dissipate. All that remains is my heartbeat. All that withstands is my breath.

“Do you hear Astora’s call?” Yaris asks, and my spine nearly jumps from my flesh at his words. The sound is almost intrusive, like a screech amidst silence.

“No,” I snap, my eyes flying open. “This is pointless! I’m not meant to walk the cosmic plane. Maybe my mother did, but I’m not anything like her.”

The words pour from me before I can dam them. Every suppressed fracture, ignored memory, and vicious thought rips through me. They scream with tearless sobs, threatening to shred me apart strand by strand. How could I have been so stupid? So hopeful? Maybe learning astral projection would make me something more than a blood-trained killer. But the truth is cold and blunt like a well-neglected axe. I’ve fallen past the point of no return.

“I’m just a nobody from Smoke, made from violence and ash. How could I have even entertained this ridiculous training?”

Yaris places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Nova, look at me.” His eyes flash amethyst, just as mine do, when I finally summon the courage to meet his steady gaze.

“Maybe I’m beyond fixing, Yaris. The war took my home, my family…who’s to say it didn’t take me, too?” Tears fall from my cheeks before I can wipe them away.

“Oh, dear girl, come here.” He reaches for me, pulling me into an embrace of incense and warmth.

There’s no offering of noble advice or encouraging promises. He doesn’t wipe the tears from my eyes or push me to try again.

No, Yaris simply holds me, absorbing my pain as if it’s his. I sob and sputter and choke like a child until my eyes sting and my cheeks are blotchy.

“This isn’t some self-pitying bullshit, Yaris. I’m not a good person. I’ve killed and stolen my entire life. There’s nothing but darkness left in me. I don’t deserve Astora’s grace or fond memories of my parents…I don’t deserve your kindness, or a place in your home. I⁠—”

“Nova.” He cups my jaw. “You get to choose who you are. Not those that made you. It takes time, and the cycle is incredibly difficult to break, but you decide when to break it. You decide who you’ll be when the sun rises. Okay? Astral projection aside. Sovereign, and Astora, be damned. You walk your own path, and I will always be here to offer my guidance if you want it. I walked away once before, but I won’t ever again. I swear it to you.”

I swallow the choke in my throat and look at him. The warmth of his promise is too bright, too undeserved, and I battle the instinct to recoil from it. For a moment, I just breathe, dancing on the outskirts of the darkness I know. His thumb rests on my jaw like a quiet tether I don’t pretend not to need.

“Why?” The word slips out of me, small and raw. “Why show me kindness? After everything I’ve done.”

“Because you’re family,” he answers with no tremor of doubt.

My chest rumbles. Family. Up until a week ago, I hadn’t thought I’d ever remember what that word feels like. A longing cramp settles in my side as Yaris tucks me into his shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest grounds me enough to keep the demons at bay.