“Why isn’t anyone talking?!” My heart and mind and stomach and everything else are all tied up in knots. We walked all the way from the Worldforsaken hovel and nobody said barely anything more than paltry monosyllabic responses to equally simple questions.

  “Including me! Why aren’t I talking?” The thought crosses my mind errantly as I take a bite out of a spiced bun that we found at a stall. It tastes pretty good, all things considered, but everything in the room just feels muted. Taste, sound, colors. It’s all blander and dimmer than it should be.

  “Maybe it’s just because I’m exhausted? I’m more tired than I think I’ve ever been. All of the spellcasting, all of the fighting. All of the…”

  The thought trails off as I look over at Olly, and I feel that pang of hurt in my chest that I’ve been trying to ignore. It's a soreness. Something bittersweet, like a tense cliffhanger at the end of a chapter. You feel desperately like you want to continue reading, but there’s the worry that something might happen in the next that will irrevocably change your enjoyment of the story.

  Anticipation. Worry.

  “*I’m being ridiculous! We saved Olly, we met a nice knight-spy, And Ayre and I both looked really cool doing it! But even after finding Olly he still got hurt again…”

  “I wanted to thank you both.”

  Olly’s voice comes out soft, so soft that I have to reconsider that I actually heard him right. Ayre looks up from her food(A plate of meat and meat with some meat on the side) and responds, “It’s nothing, Olly. When we set out on this little quest, I think we were all aware that things could get dangerous and that we’d need to help one another.”

  I should probably say something. But what? “*Sorry that I hurt your feelings so badly that you felt the need to run away after I, myself, did”? I let out what I mean to be a small sigh, but it comes out louder and huffier than I intended. Which makes me sound annoyed at Olly’s comment, rather than annoyed at myself.

  Great.

  I guess I’ll just say the simple truth, right? Whatever that is. “I…I’m just glad you’re okay.” A pause fills the air for a moment as I think, panicking a little bit, so I add. “You are okay, right? Is there anything I can do? I’m pretty low on magic, but I’ll do anything else you need.”

  Ayre raises an eye-ridge at me with a smirk, something that Olly misses, thank The World and Makers both.

  “I don’t think I necessarily need anything special. The spells you cast after I woke up worked a small miracle for my recovery. Made resetting those broken ribs much less…terrible.” He details the situation clinically, very detached. But it mostly just serves to remind me how badly he got hurt.

  “Well…I’m glad for that. If you think of anything, please let me know.” I trail off before adding with a halfhearted smile, “It wouldn’t do for the noble prince to suffer if there’s anything I can do about it, right?”

  Things go quiet for a little while longer before Ayre evidently tires of it. “So, we need to talk some things out. I think we should go over all of the everything that happened in the last day. Not least of which because most of these things tie back into one another.” She pauses for a moment. “To start, the reason you got jumped was because of people who tried to rob me this morning to get my glaive and armor (at the time). They probably would have taken me, if someone hadn’t intervened on my behalf.” Ayre’s face turns from serious for a few moments, taking on a more distant smile despite the seriousness of what she’s describing. It’s odd, and I need to ask about that later. “They were a traveling knight of that order that Vari mentioned: the Order of the Eternal Vigil. She fought those two to a standstill alone and had some of the most elaborately enchanted gear I can imagine being on a person. I couldn’t even work out three quarters of the runes or their purposes.”

  That rings a bell! “Oh! Was it glossy, black, armor? Lots of knives and daggers?”

  She nods, “Yep. The same one who helped us get in past the gate last night, too.”

  “She’s the one I went spying on!” Both Ayre and Olly give me expectant looks as I pause. This feels more normal. More controllable. So I let them sit in suspense for a few moments. “Well, last night I was watching the connections between everyone,” My own face falls into a frown for a moment, remembering the state of Olly, and I’s tenuous connection, “And while Olly looks about how I would expect — lots of frayed and uncertain connection going off in random directions to everyone in his past… but… Ayre — there was one tremendously strong connection formed on a basis of hatred and fear that happened to be right here in the town. Right here in the inn, even!”

  Olly looks apprehensive, his face going statue-still, “So, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I went to go looking into it. The connection was too strong to be a casual acquaintance, so I was curious. I got attacked by a little monster, saved by an elf girl, and promised to go meet her master since she saved me, and he’s in Kharbon and dying. That beside, in the morning I finally made it downstairs to check the person out.” I point straight down through the floor. “I figured they were someone significant. A former lover, or maybe a devoted assassin, a missing sibling bearing the other half of Olly’s curse until they were reunited — you know how those kinds of things go.” Ayre looks more than a little annoyed, so I press on. “Anyways, when I got into her room and saw her I thought she might be a dragon because she had cool horns, but it turns out that she was a demonkyn — black horns, unnaturally pale skin… golden eyes…” I trail off, watching Olly’s prior stoic expression shift to wide eyes as his breath starts to come more shallowly.

  I remember, a bit too late, that Olly’s half of that connection was fear that was just as strong or stronger than her own hatred and fear. “Drat. I…should have expected this… Good job Lilly. You did it again.” From Olly's side of our connection, I feel the tightness in his chest, the tunneling of his mind, and the cold grip of fear taking hold.

  I think about moving over to him, but Ayre moves first, standing and crossing over to his side of the room. She puts both hands on his shoulders and leans down in front of his eyes to hold them with her own. “Okay, Olly, calm down. She left the town and was heading the opposite direction as us. After what I experienced with her, I’m thinking that maybe what happened between you and Nyssa was a misunderstanding, if an extreme one.”

  Wasn't Nyssa the name of one of the people from Olly's memory event at the gate? I'll need to ask.

  He holds her gaze, taking deep breaths to control his breathing. I decide to chance something. I’d done it subconsciously when he was struggling before he lost control before, but I should be able to do it intentionally?

  I concentrate on my feelings about Olly. The worry and care I’ve had today, and the relief once we finally had him back safe. I latch on the last thing, my relief, and joy at finding him whole. Pushing aside any possible negative thoughts about it, I focus on our connection, trying to push those positive feelings through it, along with my own essence.

  While Ayre continues to talk at him over the next few seconds, I feel Olly’s side of the link soften a bit. The exchange of our emotions evening out into neutrality at first before eventually moving onto something more positive. When I reopen my eyes I see his own looking past Ayre and directly at me with just a small, thin lipped, smile and a warmth that belies the last few hours after what I’d done to upset him.

  “Look, Ayre, I get where you’re coming from, I think. I’m grateful she saved you, but what happened was not a misunderstanding. She knew and believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was a threat to countless people.” His smile goes away as he carries on, but he doesn’t seem to be sprinting towards a breakdown anymore, at least. It’s an improvement and probably the best that I can do given how tenuous our connection and relationship is. “If anything, you seeing her being reasonable and willing to step in to save a total stranger says more about me than anything else.”

  “I don’t see how that says anything about you, Olly. Just because she’s given over to heroics doesn’t make you a villain.” I offer, hopefully.

  Ayre nods, but Olly speaks up, “Villain? Maybe not. Villains have agency. Villains can be talked to. What doesn’t have agency and isn’t able to be talked to is a monster." The word drips with tense emotion as Olly stands from his chair, and shrugs Ayre’s hands off. “If someone like that, who is willing to fight against dangerous odds for a total stranger, confidently feels that I’m a threat, can I even disagree? It’s happened twice now that I’ve lost control and almost hurt you both. If that had happened in this town, surrounded by people who weren’t armed or as capable as both of you, how would it have gone differently?” After crossing the room, he looks out the window, showing his back to us.

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  “But you aren’t a monster, Olly! You’re basically the opposite. You don’t want to hurt people, and you’re more than willing to put your own life in danger to protect us. A monster wouldn’t do that.” My tone is pleading: I so desperately want to help, but I just don’t know the right things to say to help or fix this.

  He seems to not hear, but he pulls the sleeve off slowly and deliberately. “Ayre, what is a bane?” The nonsequitor catches both of us off-guard, but Ayre answers without much delay.

  “A bane is one of the fundamental differences between mortals and monsters. It’s basically an intrinsic weakness that monsters possess. Why?” She speaks in a level tone, but the words feel guarded, like she’s anticipating a surprise. I remember Olly having already asked this question to her, and given that he never seems to forget information like that, it's bizarre.

  He finishes pulling the sleeve off and drapes it over his shoulder. When he turns around, and I see it clearly again for the first time in a couple of days, it feels a little jarring. I’d mentally adjusted to thinking it was normal really quickly, I guess. But it looks sickly. Worse than normal, even. The fissures in the “skin” of the crystalline material look mottled — no longer the more pure amethyst they’d been before. Rivulets of red that look almost like blood course through at random. And to top it all off, when the sleeve comes free, a pool of swirling purple and red ichor pours freely onto the floor. It rapidly dissipates but not before eating away at some of the wood and runework.

  He holds his arm up to display it, looking at it with disdain. “I’ve explained to both of you how whenever I touch something, I gain what I feel in my heart is objectively correct information about it? Who made it, what it’s for?” Both of us nod, looking at one another before returning to looking at Olly’s resolute face. It makes me think of our earlier conversation about taste and how he’d gone silent and distant while touching his own hands together — something I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do before then. “Well, I am a thing I can touch.”

  The words hang in the air for a little while. The energy in the room feels sharp and dangerous, like a blade waiting to fall. “Some “facts” I know about myself.” He clasps his hands together with a sharp clap as he squeezes his eyes shut. His eyes begin fluttering rapidly behind his eyelids in a rather disconcerting fashion before he starts to talk in a level, cold, voice, “I have an elemental bane. It’s Sanctus essence. I don’t have a soul or a connection to anything in the Essence Sea. I’m also not human. Not anymore, at least. Maybe I never was, it’s not like I have memories to say one way or the other. I also apparently have a “core” forming. Though I don’t know what that means other than the fact that monsters have them. And the only essentia that I have any connection or affinity to are Akasha and Infernos.”

  Neither Ayre nor I manage to say anything in response — both seemingly at a loss. Ayre seems in thought, but I’m focused on the last word. Infernus essence. It’s…the antithetical essence to the Fae’s Elysian essence… Nobody is supposed to know about it, according to Father. It was hidden from the world after… “So, no. I’m not a hero. I’m not a prince.” He looks pointedly at me. “I am categorically, objectively, inhuman. According to you and your books, I possess multiple traits that are held exclusively by monsters. I was chased and attemptedly killed by someone who is a knight in an order of heroes? Monster hunters? Whatever. That person, who apparently knows better and has the moral fiber to protect strangers at risk to themselves, thought me dangerous enough to put me down to protect others despite being horribly wounded.”

  His words come quicker and quicker as he goes: like loosing a deluge — a dam of emotion and thought breaking free after a monstrous rainstorm. But the feeling that comes across isn’t panic. It’s something more peaceful, more…tame and controlled. Not cold, calculating, and dangerous like when he lost control.

  I’m thinking too much. When I look at Olly after his “big reveal” he looks like he’s emotionally balancing on a knife’s edge. His facial expressions keep shifting between being distraught, being angry, and looking confused. The three most common ways I see him since meeting him. Strung out, overwhelmed, and uncertain.

  I have to wonder. After he revealed how he'd been hiding the food thing, have I ever actually seen him happy? In these weeks, if he’s been holding up a facade of what normalcy he can cling to, do I really know “Olly”? It’s like Ayre lying to me about the chest and the bed, right? Or is it? Is it wrong to lie to protect yourself?

  The questions spin around endlessly. Lying and helping people, friends and foes, these things are supposed to be simple! Olly’s behavior doesn’t ring false though, so maybe that is his normal? His actual normal? And it’s just being filtered through all of this stuff going on.

  I don’t know what to think. I was resolute about stepping away from the two of them only a few hours ago. But now?

  I should say or do something. Give him support. The rest of that is questions I can figure out the answer to later. I’ll stop and get books to read. Maybe ask someone with more experience.

  I’ve never been afraid of his arm before, but knowing it has the essential antithesis of what makes me me changes that. Combined with my decision earlier to keep my distance so the two of them can be happier, I’m at a loss.

  If I want to be the person they need me to be, what is that right now? Touching Olly is a risk now…and a bad one. I wonder if he just knew that at some instinctual level and that’s why he’s always flinched away from me so much. Which means me coming nearer does nothing but bring him more discomfort. Similarly, every time I’ve tried to soothe him I’ve made it worse. Is the best thing for me to be just… quiet? Keep my distance and let both of them — the two mortals — do what needs to be done?

  Is this why everyone at home is so reticent to get involved with mortals? It hurts. Father never mentioned it hurting. He said times got tough, but they always pulled through. He talked about loss hurting. But this isn’t loss. This should be happy, shouldn’t it? We came out of a dangerous trial whole and mostly hearty.

  While I think, Ayre doesn’t seem any better off than me, just looking at him, processing. She abruptly stands up without a word and crosses the room to pull Olly into a hug. With their relative heights, she puts one arm around his back and another on the back of his head, drawing him in close against her chest and bringing her wings in to add another layer to the hug.

  He keeps both of his arms pinned to his side, though, not so much as twitching a muscle to move either closer to her. But I hear it then. Something that puts my decision to the test. He starts to cry gently. Soft sobs muffled by the Ayre between us. It wrenches my heart to hear. I…I want to make it better. To sing a soothing song. Give him a gift of some kind. But those things are all so trite, aren't they? The things I know aren’t real. They’re just stories.

  The words in my mind sting somewhere deep inside. Stories are important, it’s how we learn. How knowledge is passed between individuals and across time. But what does it mean when something doesn’t have a story to call upon? No tropes to examine, and people in circumstances that are, as far as I know, unique?

  I hear Ayre speaking between Olly’s worsening sobs. Her words seem carefully chosen. She always manages to keep her cool and to know what to say. “That’s why she’s just a better fit for doing this than me.” The thought hurts to have in a very oblique way, so I try to focus elsewhere to find something else I can do to help that only I can do.

  “Olly it’s okay. You aren’t alone. And as long as we can do anything about it, you won’t be.”

  “I could try to channel more Elysian essence through the connection? The major aspects of it are joy, whimsy, creation and…love.*” The thought grinds my mind to a halt.

  “Neither Lilly nor I are of the kyn either. All three of us are in the same boat.”

  “But if he has Infernos inside him, then it might hurt him no differently than Sanctus essence would. Which means my connection to him could be passively causing him more harm. It could even be the source of some of his instability,”

  “What matters is what you want to be, and what you choose to be. Essence can affect people, but it can’t make them something they aren’t unless they choose to go that far.”

  “That explains why our connection is so tenuous. There’s antithetical interference. I’m so stupid. I should have known. I should have felt it… But I didn’t. And I don’t. Why? Is it being contained by the other one? What is Akashic essence? Is that the key to all of this?”

  “We’re going to get to the bottom of this. I won’t promise you that it can be fixed, but I will promise you that I won’t give up until we know that answer beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  The sobs slowly lessen into sniffles after Ayre’s seemingly final statement comes.

  A promise. That’s something I can do. Something that only I can do here.

  Ayre steps back, holding on to Olly’s shoulder and fixes him with a smile so warm that the room heats up just a little.

  I step forward next to them, feeling so tiny. So very useless. Uncertain if I belong here. If adventure is what I really wanted.

  But… I need to be what he needs. I don’t think what he needs is someone distant, someone aloof.

  What Olly needs is a friend.

  I think I can manage that.

  “Olly… I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve been behaving poorly this entire time.” I take a deep breath. The next part is hard to say. Promises are important and shouldn’t be made casually. They need to be specific. The World is listening, and it will judge my words. I just hope I’m doing the right thing.

  [I promise to you that I will be here for you through this journey. I will do everything I can to see you make it to the end of your story, no matter what it takes. Until the day comes where you don’t need me anymore.]

  I see the connection between Olly and I strengthen: momentarily visible even without an incantation or spell-enhanced vision. The diffuse golden link brightening into a warm pink and solidifying into a solid chain of Elysian essence between each of our hearts.

  It’s beautiful and leaves a warm flutter in my chest as I look at it. I also suddenly feel very dizzy. Very dizzy. In fact, someone seems to have started spinning the room.

  Right… Making a promise like that uses a lot of essence. After a long day of using a lot of essence.

  My landing probably won’t be graceful.