Ch. 38

“Between Storms”

The shadow moves like a snake through the white voided space, inching closer.

What does that even mean? Relax. I can’t even remember the last time I truly relaxed. The word doesn’t even feel real anymore. My mind is constantly on high alert, always aware, always ready. I am filled with a beast — no, a monster — that could tear through everything. My friends, my clan, the entire world, it could freeze it all in an instant if I were to let it loose.

Memories flash — creatures, people I have killed, whether Mother granted them life back again or not. The weight of their blood was still in my hands. My own teeth sunk deep into flesh. It is etched into my skin, inked all over my body, a constant reflection of death. I am filled with untamed power, power that has defied my control even after decades of training. Decades of building walls and a door in my mind to keep the beast caged. But it never stays that way, even I carve to break free of my own cage.

Self doubt sinks its claws deep, telling me I will fail, telling me I am a failure for thinking I had and ounce of control. Every day, I check the locks, the walls, but the fear never faded. Every waking moment, remembering, this beast, this power, is a part of me I can’t escape. And still, I can’t stop the night from coming — sleepless nights spend on the edge of my own sanity.

Then there is the anger. The anger from years of being told to do this, but don’t do that, never not allowed to be yourself. I have been trapped within the walls of my home, suffocated by expectations, by rules I never agreed to. And despite everything I have learned — about creatures, magic, spells — I still don’t know who I am. I don’t know my own father. I don’t know my own place in this world. I can’t remember. I can’t remember my memories. I can’t remember my happiness, my joy, only the fear that has engulfed everything in its path.

So no, I don’t know how to relax. I can’t even fathom what relaxing feels like. I just went mid-shift between my true form and the beast within. No thought, no warning. I almost started a fucking blizzard. This is me. This is what I am. This is what I have become.

Amid all this chaos, I feel… a pull. A change. A calmness, not my own but something other, a force that moves through the air like a faint breeze.

Zanir.

His voice moving through the void, his calm presence pushing through the storm in my chest like the sun battling the cloud to reach the earth below. How does he do it? How does he just… exist in the storm without being consumed? I can almost feel him, the subtle hum of his presence, steady and sure. His shadows twist frantically as if it, too, can hear my most inner thoughts.

You sense it now, don’t you? His voice breaks through my haze, quiet but certain. There is a storm inside you. It grows and expands. It is there, Mihaela, little bat. I can feel it, overflowing, rising… but it doesn’t have to dominate you. You just have to feel it. Let it fill the sky. Let it the lightening hit, crash, and break. Let the thunder roar and scare them. Then let it pass.

I blink, trying to wrap my raging mind around his words. Let it pass? What? Everything inside wants me to crack, to crumble. How do you simply not contain, repress, or control it, when it is everything you are?

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his shadows twirls through the distance between us like I imagine Druzin, the dragon of Solomanri, would as he moves the clouds to his will.

The storm will always be there, he continues, but it doesn’t have to define you. You are not your storm. It is not a part of you, and you are something much bigger than that.

For a moment, I am still. The storm in the distance of the void cracks with blue flashes of light, raging, but for the first time, I just watch it. Not running or hiding from it.

I can feel… calm. Not in the way I always imagined, like a still lake. No, it is something different. A moment, like in the eye of a storm or a typhoon. But it is here. Quiet. Still.

You made it snow.

I feel my brain halt.

Snow? I made it snow… I love the snow…

—

It is strange, this feeling of warmth washing over me. I am pulled back to another time, another place. I remember Oana, laughing beside me as we flopped into the fresh powder, the cold earth beneath us, soft and forgiving. Our laughter echoing through the frozen silence, the crisp air biting at our cheeks. She would always laugh louder than me, as if the world needed to hear how joyful she was, and I would watch, just happy to be near her.

I remember the thrill as we tracked down Iamys and threw snowballs at him. He would always get this serious look, like he was preparing for a battle, before he would return snowballs of his own. But I wasn’t afraid. I would melt the snowballs before they could hit me, a challenge between us. I would throw one back at him, aiming for his chest, and then the chase began. We didn’t care who was winning. We were just happy. I remember the Halfy thick fur felt under my fingers, how I would climb on top of him to escape the battlefield, the cold snowflakes would sting my cheeks like little kisses, tiny cold burns against my skin.

Snowflakes on my tongue. I loved catching them, the way they immediately melted. It was like I was tasting the world’s purest joy. A moment without worries, without the pressure, without the beast clawing inside of me.

But the memory fades, slowly slipping through my fingers like water, and with it, that warmth, that fleeting moment of peace.

And then something else comes, quick, sharp — a blur of light, a flash of excitement. I am lying on my back again, this time in a forest, the night is deep around me. The sky is vast, a thousand and one stars scattered like crystals. Snowflakes drift down, falling softly onto my face, cool and gentle, but with a sharpness that burns when they touch my skin. The air smells of pine and snow, and for a second I am lost in it. I feel safe.

“I have always loved the snow.” I say, my voice quiet as I turn to the person beside me. There is a smile on my chest, soft and slow. I look at him — a boy with dark hair, glowing cerulean eyes like an ocean on fire, burning but calm. His smile is warm, real, and as wild as the storm brewing inside me.

That boy …

It was Zanir.

—

The memory lingers, then fades, slipping away, leaving a sense of warmth that Zani’s presence seems to sustain. The shadow moves frantically, pulling me back to the present, but the void isn’t pure white anymore. It is changing, flecks of gray and warmth seep in, like his presence is shaping it, breaking it open. The earth shakes beneath me, the ground cracking like broken glass.

Question for question? Zanir’s voice wraps around me, warm, and I feel a strange heat flickering at my fingertips, like I am holding a candle in the dark.

I take a deep breath, then let out a sigh. The white void shifts again, trembling as if it is alive. This is so fucking strange. It is unsettling how the space around me seems to move with my breaths, like my thoughts are pulling its strings.

Another breath in, and I let it go slowly. My mind races, questions overlapping in my head, tangling with half-formed memories.

I guess, I say, exhaling slowly, but I feel like I have more question than answers. I pause, realizing that even now, I don’t know where to begin. So… two questions, then. I hesitate, the weight of them sinking in. How are you able to talk to me like this? And — My voice falters, unsure if I want the answer. How the hell have we met before?

The silence stretches, and for a moment, I am terrified he won’t answer.

But he does, his tone quiet and steady, almost like he is unraveling something that may pop. It wasn’t something I expected, he says slowly, the way I could hear the fainest whispers of your mind at first. It was as if you were.. calling out, but without knowing it. It was only when we touched, that first time, that I really felt the connection — when you took my hand, something changed. He pauses, his words holding a gentleness I haven’t heard from him often, it steadies my racing heart. But it is not all you. This pull between us, Mihaela — there is more behind. Cruel and wickedly humorous. You aren’t doing this alone.

His words reach into some deep, hidden place within me, sparking something half-buried. Memories tug at my seams, pulling me into the past, into the past, into that moment at the port. I remember his face fully now, the intensity in his blue eyes as I stumbled off the ship, his expression both curious and cautious.

We were waiting for you, he says, the memory threading through his voice. My mother and I, watching as you arrived. You were this clumsy, guarded girl, even then. I couldn’t hear you then — your mind was silent. But something about you felt… familiar.

I want to press further, to ask why he couldn’t hear me then, but he holds back, leaving the question hanging in the air, unspoken. His hesitation is careful, deliberate, and I sense he is giving me only what he feels I can handle.

Why can’t I remember? I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He turns the question back on me, his shadow moving toward me, then it stops just out of reach. Tell me, Mihaela — little bat — what do your memories feel like? What is it like when you try to recall something?

I take a deep breath, bracing myself as the fragment flicker in my mind like broken glass. The void shifts, as now I am looking into a mirror in front me, with cracked pieces. Each piece is different, some are blurry, some are clear, and some are scratched, unable to see into them.

It is like… broken pieces, fragments of a puzzle. But lately, being away from the castle, I feel like I can almost… see some of them. Not fully, but there is some clarity I didn’t have before. Yet it only brings more questions, things I feel like I should know but can’t remember. The void moves, and the distance storm echoes into the growing darkness among the whiteness. A slow, creeping fear tightens in my chest. But if I go back… My voice trembles as the words leave me. What if I forget again? What if everything slips away, and I am trapped under her control, with no way out?

His shadow presses closer, almost curling around my feet, solid yet gentle. I feel a warmth that seems to bleed into the void around me, mingling with the chill in my veins, soothing but firm.

His voice drifts through, low and amused.

Little bat, you know… your physical body is currently slumped on Halfy’s back, he says with that normal causal, teasing edge. Honestly, you look almost… sweet. Not a hint of your usual fury Dare I say, harmless?

I can’t see him, but I can practically picture that smirk he must be wearing, a look of smug satisfaction. I feel the frustration spark in me, a steady, grounding irritation. How dare you. I am trapped in here with your disembodied voice because they sedated me. I mumble, feeling scorn through the haze. I will wake up eventually. Remember that.

True, he replies, his voice echoing with a faint laugh. But it is not all bad, is it? After all, I am incredibly good company.

His laughter lings in the white expanse, somehow increasing the empty space around me. I roll my eyes, though the quiet sound of his amusement stirs something light and rare within me — a calm I haven’t felt in so long, sharpening a reluctant grin of my own.

I can hear him take a deep breath, his voice softening. But really, Mihaela… when we held hands, something shifted. You have me a part of my powers back, and now, somehow, we’re connected. I can feel things — your cold, the rhythm of your heartbeat, even your breathing.

I feel him hesitate even if here, as though he is stepping carefully into the admission. It is like a calling, drawing me to you, as though you and fate somehow pull me to you.

A pang of guilt creeps up, gripping my lungs. It is as though I have unwittingly dragged him into the storm that lives inside me, luring him into my shadows and turmoil that I can barely control.

I feel the guilt cut, and the words slip out before I can stop them. I didn’t mean to… bring you into all this.

Forgetting that my thoughts are now my own currently, Zanir cuts in, his voice soft with warmth that I am not quite used to. Mihaela, I don’t think it is as simple as you trapping me in your chaos. If I recall, you were the curious little bat that kept following me in the forest that night. Seeking me out, even when you didn’t realize who or what I was.

His shadow twist along the floor before curling back toward me, a hint of something gentle in the motion. Besides you not the first one who have ever been drawn to the unknown. You do remember that Muma Padurii had her own… expectations of me that night, don’t you?

The memory tugs at me, and I feel a shiver ripple across my skin. She had said something that night about bringing him something, something that would help me with something… I can’t remember. I never understood her word.

My brow furrow, and I hear my voice, softer back to that cautious tone. You were… waiting for something that night in the forest, weren’t you?

Zanir’s shadow still, the void white light shifts, seeming to dim as if the weight of he is willing revel lingers. Muma Padurii is a powerful witch, Mihaela, he replies voice low. She doesn’t move without purpose. But as for why I was there… He trails off, and I can envision that stupid smirk. Well, I suppose some questions will have to wait. For now.

His shadow moves again, now dancing up my leg and the white ground, its movements knowing, layered, and it sends a rush through me I can’t quite explain.

Then Zanir adds, with maddening nonchalance, But I think it is my turn for a question, don’t you? His shadow crawls further up my leg, twirl and coiling around my waist. You’ve been sneaking glances at me. Or perhaps more than glances.