3: Cold Claws

Night, Leiyn’s father once told her, is when fear comes out. Cage it, lion cub. Deny it. Don’t think of your fears—think of me. Of your home. Remember what brings you joy.

Perhaps that was why she hardly slept. Fear had swallowed what little joy she had.

She forced herself to lie next to Teya long after she knew sleep would not come. Leiyn had hoped their intimacy would morph into rest. Instead, grief clawed back in, raking across her soul.

She had already tried inhabiting her senses to clear her mind of it. Inhaling the earthy perfume of their surroundings and Teya’s scent lingering on her skin. Listening to the songs of crickets and potoos, the wind rustling through the leaves.

But when her focus drifted, in the pause between thoughts—there, fear pounced and seized her.

Her other practice of listing the tasks needing to be done the next day was similarly ineffective. Inevitably, thinking of the future led to her worries for it. That they had delayed too long here in the Ofean wilderness. That she was incapable of action. Paralyzed by doubt.

Each day, she pressed back against that drowning tide. She had not lain idle, but striven to harness the power that could keep her and her friends alive. She had mastered the forming of grottos in a season when it had taken Ketti years to learn. Clouded Fang was a part of her, no more than a thought away.

She prepared to battle her fear. But still, she feared meeting it.

You’re not enough, a voice that resembled Sharo’s whispered during the sleepless nights. You’ll never be enough. How could you be? You weren’t enough to save her.

As with every night, there came a point where she could no longer endure it. Leiyn rose silently, ducked beneath the curtain of ivy, and drew on her clothes. She scarcely knew why she bothered taking them off.

When she had slipped on her shoes, she climbed down to the balcony below and leaned on the railing. Only Young Chiuni, the smaller moon, was out that night. Its scant light draped over the clearing but failed to penetrate the foliage beyond.

Leiyn closed her eyes and spread her lifesense, immersing herself in the jungle. Claiming what comfort she could in the web of life. When that did not ease the ache in her chest, she reached for the pouch at her hip and drew out the fox figurine. Its features had begun to smooth from her constant touch, but it was the faint spark within that mattered more. The last remnant of a man who had been as good as a father to her.

Tadeo, she called to him through her mahia. Beseeching him to respond. But too little of him remained.

Since first sensing him as she drowned in Anchor’s Refuge, she had reached for more. To communicate with his spirit. Know him as she had in life. Yet all she could sense was that vague spark of lifefire. Only that the lodgemaster had held it while he died assured her it was him.

Even with so little of him left, to feel him with her, to know it was Tadeo…it was enough. Enough for her to press on.

We’re ready. I am ready.

She had purged herself of shortcomings. She could summon and draw upon her ash dragon. She could sense Unera in its entirety, and from that awareness, form and step through grottos. Her aim with an arrow and her skill with her twin falchions had never been keener.

She was ready to hunt.

Only one flaw remained to undermine her. The fear that found her when she let down her guard.

If you let her die, that insidious voice whispered, how can you save any of them?

She had learned to ignore her doubts. Now, purpose was what she needed most. A target to sight. 

Still, it was denied to her.

Though Ata spent most of her time away from Haven, departing for days and weeks at a time, she had little to show for it. Only hints and rumors of where Sharo might have been. The sly lyshan remained as elusive as before.

They suspected the same could not be said of themselves. Practicing with mahia outside of their grotto—Leiyn in harnessing Clouded Fang, Ketti and Ekosa leashing other titans—was too conspicuous to hope otherwise. Ata could sense mahia across much of the Veiled Lands. She claimed her fellow Iritu had similar capacities.

Sharo was not coming after them. There would be no luring him to his fate. They had to seek him out.

Leiyn clenched her hands into fists and pressed into the smooth, wood railing. Time. The more time they gave Sharo, the deeper he burrowed into human society. He and his lyshans might devise ways of beating them. New, dreadful techniques that would end their stuttering rebellion.

Then who would stop him from enslaving all humanity?

They could not give him more time, yet still, Leiyn doubted her motivations. Ever had she been rash. Impatient. The arrow hastily aimed rarely found its mark. They had to know where to go before conducting an attack.

But if I don’t find a target, she thought, lifting her chin, I might just shoot for the moons.

“I thought I wore you out.”

Leiyn turned as Teya descended from their loft. She had felt her stirring above, but had not dredged up the will to face her. Now, she painted on a smile.

“Sorry to wake you, my sky.”

The scout waved a hand, feigning nonchalance. “I would be a poor situal if I could not go one night without rest.”

Quiet fell. Neither acknowledged that, after Teya’s decision to follow Leiyn into exile, she was a situal no longer.

Leiyn traced constellations with her eyes. Teya had given up everything to be here. They all had. Each was an exile, self-imposed or by decree. Their goal was nearly all they shared in common.

It cannot be for nothing.

“The exile has no home.” The words left her lips before she could reconsider them. “Ekosa said that before, I think.”

“It sounds like the very definition of the word.” Still, Teya kept her words light.

Leiyn raised an eyebrow. “You know it’s more than that.”

The former situal inclined her head and looked out over the jungle. Leiyn faced forward as well. Limned with moonlight, lush green leaves transformed into scythes of silver. Beautiful but deadly. Cold.

 Once, they would have huddled together against the night’s chill. Now, each warmed themselves with lifefire alone.

A bitter laugh worked free of Leiyn. “You know, with everything that’s happened, I’d almost think we—you, me, maybe all of our group—were cursed by Omn. But that’d be a shit god to do all this.”

A breath passed before Teya murmured, “Then what do you believe?”

Leiyn’s smile retracted. She had seen the teachings of the Holy Catedrál unravel, one after the other, since she had embraced her mahia. Seen Gast and Eteman worldviews affirmed by the formation of grottos and the bonding and commanding of titans. The Altacura, leader to all Omnists, was a puppet made to dance to Sharo’s whims. Even the Saints were held suspect, for had not most of them served as the Altacura in their time? Perhaps none were as virtuous as the scriptures made them seem.

She shook her head free of its webs. “Does it matter? Doesn’t change what we have to do.”

“It matters.” Teya glanced at Leiyn, an emphasis to her words.

Silence fell again, a smothering curtain. Leiyn endured it as long as she could. Uttering what she knew she must almost came as a relief.

“Think we’ll find him?”

The former scout did not have to ask whom she meant. “We might,” she said, each word as stiff as a marching Suncoat. “If we do not remain in hiding.”

Leiyn hid her flinch. She should not have been surprised by the bite of Teya’s bitterness. She had not only lost her people, but her authority as a Spear. Her purpose.

Yet, coming from Teya, that sting hurt too much to prepare for.

“You’re right,” Leiyn said at length.

Teya turned fully to her. “Am I?”

“Yes. We’ve waited long enough.” Leiyn pushed away from the railing. “Once Ata returns, we’re going. And if we still don’t have a destination, then we’ll figure out where to start searching.”

Teya stood straight and faced her. “May she return tomorrow, spirits willing.”

Leiyn suspected no spirit gave a damn—those traveling with them being the exception. She only nodded toward their loft.

“Come on. Let’s see if we cannot catch a few hours still.”

She climbed after Teya back into their loft, praying Omn would hurry Its ascent and bring an end to the interminable hours to come.