ADARA

I need to try again — I can't give up on him. He has never given up on us... and I won't let what's between us just wither like I did with Tara. I am not making those mistakes again. Not if I still have a chance to do it right this time. Through the cave of grief, she stumbled through the dark without the dawn's light. He helped me, the least I can do is do the same for him, provide him a way to get through this darkness. Enough of this. Blood splattered at her boots, but formed into beautiful white stone when she drew herself through the citadel perched within a volcanic caldera. It gasped in her blood with the cyclic pressure in the chamber below, but she pushed through to her life she found all over again and the love she bore for it and him. Under a shadow of an iceberg tree full of blossomed, white speckled fruit.

A repaired imbalance, and it was her turn.

For what the world gives, it must take. Ashes sprinkled onto her palm when she let her flames breath outwards with the energy in her body. Lamps flickered silver when she drew past, back to their calming oranges when she put distance between her and the truest expression of the flow. I have so much to learn, taking from others experiences, but I see what Maria meant about my flames. More than a wildfire burning everything in its path. It was warm. Energy. Relentless light against a depraved, despairing dark which fed Derelicts in turn. Through his old haunts, Adara refused to submit to it at his lack of presence, where he grew ever more distant with Neven's departure. A Physical presence but a mental disappearance.

But with my magick proven, I have time to figure this out until the Storm Wardens need to get ready for the operation at the Burning Abyss; figure us out. Figure this world for what it is instead of the fairytales Mother used to say to me. Adara hooked her fingers into the crimson shawl around her shoulders. Instead of the grim stories Garren saw the world as. Just the dreams we've carried through those stories. Hand against her side, she had one last place left to look after the Annex failed to give her answers within the parchment with no Yuven Traye to hound her about her lack of desire to learn further, to push her magick to the absolute limits it could go.

Out of the caldera, she wandered to the path of the Gauntlet Fenrer showed her, a moment of trust and vulnerability. Water flowed through the small divot which dripped into the endless amount of cave systems within the mountain, carved by ancient molten flows. Her steps fumbled, but she found her footing when she clambered over rocks, climbed nets onto higher points before drawing to the line of cascades. Ignoring the rope bridges across, she ducked into the hidden path, her knees against the damp stone, shielded from the drop by the curved erosion. Sunlight sprinkled through the mist when she drew herself into the misty tunnel of sparkling runes. It twirled in a mesmerising dance of water until she reached the hidden entrance. Her palm pressed against the center of the spiral, allowing the sizzle of her magick to tear open the flow. It rumbled with stone intent, and she took a small step back when it rolled to reveal what it hid behind its deceptive appearance.

Through the rest of the tunnel, she peeked into the cave grove. The main cascade poured into the pond, feeding into the lichen and grass around it, emboldened by the fertility of the volcanic soil. It squashed beneath her boots, but she kept herself to the craggy wall at the sight of Fenrer sitting on the grass, a couple of books at his side. His Derelict resonator hung off his belt, clinking with the silver chain whenever he moved to examine one of the books. He drew a hand through his thick, dark brown hair before letting his small braid tangle out of his fingertips where the wolven pin set it in place.

Adara took the first, hardest step when he fiddled with a flexible ruler, moving the tab back and forth. Pain filled her heart when his shoulders tensed at the stretched silence with only the cascade to fill the distance between them. He took a block of wood from his lap, using the ruler to draw lines upon it without acknowledging her arrival. But I'm not going to let you avoid this. "Fenrer."

"Adara." Fenrer double-checked the line he drew, putting the ruler away. "I wasn't expecting you to come up here."

"You said I could use this place when I needed to be by myself or have time for my own thoughts." Adara continued the approach though everything in her body screamed to flee. "What are you doing here?" She knelt forward to investigate the closest book. Carpentry — highly advanced techniques filled the pages when she opened it, the numbers, angles, and images making her head spin more than the five-hundred pages of a monolith Yuven bid her read in a specific timeframe. He trained his attention on the block, peering at the open book beside him. "Doesn't the citadel have work stations for this kind of handicraft?"

"Yes." Fenrer slid the ruler out of his way. "Except I am out of practice."

"Why the sudden urge to practice?"

His jaw clenched, but he took a breath. "The Pyren's were woodworkers, remember?" he mused as he dug a file into the lines he drew.

"I do remember, I just don't know why you..." Adara drew her attention to a fluttering letter shoved between one of the books to act as a point of reference. Fenrer twisted on his hip when she pried it out to read it. Hastened panic swept through the spirals when he put the block down and swiped it from her, but she spotted the sigil of the Hanekan monarchy on the bottom. "What does Reyn want with you?" she pressed when he folded it to tuck it into his coat.

Fenrer pursed his lips. "He needed a Warden's opinion on what happened at Azahama. You were there, Adara. I don't think I need to highlight how delicate the situation has become if this cult is making blood glyphs around the place and how it attracts Derelicts and gives them free food." Back on his tarp, he rifled to the next page of his book before returning to his block of unfinished wood.

"And... that gave you the need to do carpentry?" His silent answer screamed at her further. "Fenrer—"

"Is there something specific you want to talk about?" He filed down the corners with vigorous, fierce motions, though his face betrayed nothing of anger.

"Do I need something specific to want to talk to you?"

Fenrer's ferocious movements faltered. Head slumped forward on his shoulders, he murmured, "I don't know anymore. You tell me. My Oathbound hates my guts for what I am, the person I love lied to my face about something important, not even just to me..." He returned to his smoothing. "I think I have good reason for caution, but—" A smile curled his lips and proved as fake as his words. "Don't mind me. Share away. I'll hear it eventually if you don't say it now." He filed down the points in ragged motions the more he spoke, "It's never stopped anyone before."

"Fenrer, I'm—"

"Sorry? I know, and I said I forgive you. You're forgiven." He waved the woodfile at her. "And I'm not angry."

"I didn't say you were..." Adara whispered. "At least, not since we last talked. I just want you to talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling. I want to know what you're feeling. I don't want to fight you, Fenrer. I don't want to keep dancing around this bush." Irritation spread, but she swallowed it to sit down behind him and fought for patience. "I want to fix this. I do love you, Fenrer, I shouldn't have lied, I have no excuse."

His fingers curled around the wood block as another exhale left through his nose. He drifted on the next swipe, then whispered, "His Grace wants me to go to Sivaport to be at court for a while," he said. "After the attack on Azahama, I've agreed. I've also let Warden-Commander know it was me specifically he requested. I can only assume he wants help with the rebuilding project between the capital and the people of the Goldwood." He slipped his teeth over his lips, but refused to turn and acknowledge her. "As a Pyren, and a Hanekan... I'm the only one that can do that."

"You don't have to do it alone, Fenrer, Yuven and I—"

Fenrer twisted his neck at that. "Yuven's sense of diplomacy can't handle delicate matters. Get back to me when we need a brash, stubborn, bull-headed jackass of an Avaerilian..." he muttered the last few words under his breath. "He can do that well enough. King Reyn requested me, not Yuven nor you. I would much rather keep you two here where I don't have to worry." His nostrils flared. "I never get any space from the auras, the colors, everyone's emotions. At least with this I can choose."

Knives drove into the chambers of her heart. "So... you're just leaving us?"

"We can't risk another Azahama."

"But that's not why you're doing this," Adara argued.

"It's not like you can read my mind." Fenrer pushed the books into a bag with the unfinished wooden block and small carpenter tools which hung on the side. "You want to fix this, I get it, I can see it." He faced her in full and rested his hands on his hips when she stood up to face him, a memory tickling her lips when he drew from her. "And I appreciate the thought, but I think it best if I'm simply not here."

"You're wrong."

Fenrer's brow furrowed. "Why am I wrong?"

"Because if you do that, don't you understand what you're really doing?" Adara hissed. "You are running away from the problems. In fact, you're going to make them worse, for you especially, let alone us, the people who care about you." Hand over her beating, warm heart, she bridged the distance, but maintained the friendship they built for a foundation into their love. "Me, Neven, yes, even Yuven—I know he's a jackass, but Fenrer he doesn't hate you. He made so many mistakes and fumbles over trying to fix it, well, I'm not him and I'm not you." Adara prodded him in the chest, and she wanted to laugh at the impressive display of Yuven irritation which curled his strong features though he lacked the wyvern ferocity in the spirals. "I know how to fix this."

"How?" he asked in a cold tone.

"You admit you're angry and that you haven't reached the point of forgiveness you say you have even if you want to be at that point," Adara said.

Fenrer widened his eyes at her. "I'm not angry. I'm fine," he said with a smile screaming with pain and panic. "Perfectly well. I am hale, whole—" He shook his hands again when he turned from her, but twisted around with a tortured smile. "—and perfectly content! I'm in a great mood. I don't want to talk about this and be in a worse mood. We'll talk about this when I come back from Sivaport." He went to step past her with his bag in tow, but she got in his way and refused to let him leave and his smile shattered on its weak lie. "Adara."

"If you go without talking... we never will, don't you see that? Look at what caused this."

"I wasn't the one who lied to you or Yuven."

"You're lying right now in saying that we will talk when you come back. You're going to keep making excuses to continue avoiding it and we're just going to keep going down this road and I don't want that." Adara resisted the urge to cry and stifled her emotions when the green swirls shifted. "If you're so dead set on leaving, fine, but I want us to talk. One on one like we are now, and not pretending anymore." Strength left her knees, but she held herself strong on her own two feet. "Can we please do that, Fenrer?"

Fenrer shifted and flipped his gaze off to the side. "If it'll make you feel better." He went to move past her, but Adara grabbed onto his forearm. "You said you know how to fix this, I'll be waiting down in the storage rooms. I need to help with clean-up before the operation." He wriggled out of her grip and gave her a blank stare. "It's not like you'll be hearing anything I haven't already said... multiple times. I wish people would listen to me." He stomped away before she could reply to his last remark, disappearing behind the misty cascade at the entrance. Rocks tore themselves closed when he left her in the beautiful grove he showed her in a moment of trust and vulnerability.

Adara allowed her weak knees to give out when she sat on the tarp, protected from the damp grass and dirt beneath it. Fenrer, no one can listen to you if you won't even listen to yourself. On her hindquarters, she leaned on her arms and let her attention drift to the sun peeking over the rim of the skylight. I won't ruin this chance nonetheless, I'll listen, but I'll show you too. You may have a second sight... but there's so much you still can't see.