Page 105 of To No End

Saryn exited at Theory’s side with the box, likely to hide it.

Varro walked up to Trace and leaned into his face. He spoke quietly, but loudly enough that I could still hear his words as I watched Trace’s jaw twitch.

“Don’t give her a reason to lose control again, or you might find yourself a victim of her wrath.”

CHAPTER

32

I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about my ability—or curse. The only person who treated me no differently was Varro. The others showed varying degrees of hesitancy, nervousness, and outright curiosity. But for every single question they had, I had two more of my own. I was torn between desperately wanting to understand this side of myself and fearing what came with that knowledge. The unspoken expectations from the team and Saryn weighed heavily on me. Even if I could learn to channel it properly, how could I practice it safely? Was this something I could even practice with a Vesper?

Since the mission, the group had been spending most of their time training, trying to demonstrate to Saryn and Theory that they were taking their duties seriously and could be trusted with the moonstones. Each of us was now equipped with quite the arsenal of weapons, custom made. Nothing was more satisfying than when a blade fits like a glove, with perfect hilt, length, and weight. Each swing felt like a second skin.

While the others got to enjoy their new weapons, I, on the other hand, had been locked in that dusty room for the past few days trying to keep my eyes open and sleep at bay while I scoured page after page. Many of these texts were written as journals, not instructions. With each passing word, I felt more empathy for these individuals from the past. They had been scared, felt like outsiders, and felt afraid of themselves and what they could do. If I had been journaling myself, I would have expressed similar sentiments. Instead, I was consumed with learning all I could.

At times, I felt guilty and unworthy of my stewardship of this great knowledge, but I didn’t feel compelled to put my thoughts on paper. I just let them fester. Perhaps writing them down would provide some sort of release or reprieve, but instead, I just kept absorbing their stories, trying to find my own path woven in between their testimonies.

The common thread was that most of them had had no idea about their power until some inciting event. I guess mine was the stress and fear caused by almost dying and taking Varro with me.

Some of their powers manifested as something they were already skilled at, but evolved to cataclysmic levels. One such example was a Dark Wielder who was gifted in elemental manipulation, but when he sought to control fire, it practically decimated everything in the vicinity.

Another similarity was the constant mention of how drained they felt. It wasn’t just about the amount of energy required to expel the power, but honing their control of it. Without exerting enough energy and focus, chaos would ensue. Precision, aim, balance, and restraint were all of the utmost importance when this kind of power was in one’s possession.

If someone wanted to just lay waste to everyone and everything around them, they could, but that was not what theOrder was for. Not unless it was absolutely necessary. Every journal entry usually began with the tracking of one’s daily regimen: how much they slept, how much they ate, what they ate, and when. Wielding the abilities, even in practice, was so taxing that it was difficult to recover in time to prevent a reprisal. It was very apparent that I would need to take my routine much more seriously than I had before, ensuring that all the essentials to remain strong and alert were present before I practiced channeling these abilities.

As I pored through the books and journals, I was looking for one very distinct answer. I needed to know what I had done during the Canary Veil. I barely remembered it, and Varro was the only one in the Order who saw it with his own eyes. I’d asked him to describe it to me a handful of times so I could continue to look for clues. Eventually, I found some information that felt as close to an accurate correlation as I could get.

This wielder explained in their notes that the physical manifestation of a shield can encompass the individual upholding the shield along with anyone or anything they can manage to encapsulate. The larger the protection area, the greater the amount of energy needed to maintain coverage of that space. This explained how Varro was also kept safe. This tiny dome of energy had protected us from the onslaught of arrows pouring down from overhead.

My curiosity began to feel satiated as I continued through the notes, knowing I had finally found what I was seeking. A more advanced version of the shield included projection, which converted the defensive ability into an offensive one. The shield could move outward in a display of explosive energy, overwhelming anything in its path. For some, this could be a tremor causing the ground to quake. For others, it could be something more akin to a powerful gust of wind.

These descriptions most accurately reflected what Varro had described. I remembered shattered glass and stone rubble strewn all about. Guards writhing in pain with shards of the destroyed ballroom embedded in their flesh, while others had been unable to survive the impact itself.

Reading onward conveyed the countless possibilities of the shielding when used in such a manner; more gruesome and crueler than I could have ever imagined. Some had the ability to suffocate anything within range; another described the victim’s bones breaking one by one. It made me think of Varro’s Siren Song and how he could make people feel awful, terrible things. But this was beyond that—it wasn’t an illusion. Their enemies suffered through the real thing.

Hours would pass by in the study no bigger than a closet. As time went on, the solitary flame by which I read generated enough heat to stifle the air. After I told Varro about the need for me to focus on a well-rounded regimen, he took it upon himself to ensure I stuck to it. He was the only one who made sure to drop by, regularly bringing me meals or something to drink. His visits, however brief, were welcomed.

He was the only one I felt comfortable sharing my learnings with besides Saryn. Perhaps it was because he had been there and put himself in harm’s way for me, or because he was the only one who wasn’t the slightest bit scared of me and what I could do…or would learn to do.

The more I learned, the more I knew that reproducing this ability was not going to be anything I could just conjure at will. That’s where I needed to get, eventually, but the one and only time I had done it was under immense duress.

I was not surprised when Saryn implied that we may need to recreate a similar scenario to force it out of me. This time I’d be able to remain conscious and aware of the feeling and my surroundings, and then learn how to tame it. But recreating thefeeling of being that threatened was not something I was looking forward to.

When I mentioned Saryn’s proposal to Varro, he was not overly keen on the idea either. Though he expressed concern and displeasure, he also understood that he knew nothing about what it would take to master my ability. He knew that, despite all my fears, I craved understanding and control of it. He gave me unwavering support and believed that I could do whatever I set my mind to.

He was the only one who had verbally offered up the notion that he didn’t care if I was ever able to use this power again. He said it made no difference to him, and that even without it I was still essential to the team with everything I’d already brought to the table.

The others’ silence spoke volumes. They could fear it or be jealous, but they knew after that first mission that we could not hide behind the belief that training, sparring, and planning would always be enough. Whatever we were headed into would have real consequences, ones where our lives were at risk.

Beyond my initial outburst at Trace, no one had spoken about how we’d almost lost two of us. We had made too many assumptions and did not have enough backup plans prepared.

Yes, we told Cairis to go when we saw the window of opportunity, but that was assuming we’d be fine with the three of us. We had assumed Trace would come to our aid, even with the goods in hand. We had assumed our enemy would not be smart enough to have decoys in place. We assumed we could get in and out mostly undetected.

We would have to mend as a team to survive. We needed better planning, better communication, and quite frankly, the callousness to assume everything out there was far worse than we’d imagined. It was us against everyone.

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33

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