Ch. 29

“The Weight of Remembering”

I look at my thing finally. There is a faint outline of a handprint, purple and pink, along the edge where my coldness met his warmth. The memory sends a shiver through me, and I huff out a breath, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I place my freezing hands over the mark, trying to banish his touch from my skin. First ice, lingering coldness that is still here, the connection to my beast, surging forth, unwelcomed, even with my mental door locked tight. Why can’t I control this? A shiver runs through me, and I try to increase my heat in the tub. The water increases in steam, a reflection of the storms clashing inside me. I scrub at my hands and then my thigh, as if I could wash away the remnants of his presence.

“I could easily snap every bone in his body.” I say with a scowl on my face.

“Hmm, maybe not every bone…” Devlyn’s smile cuts through my thoughts, her teasing a welcome distraction.

I feel my mouth fall open, caught between exasperation and amusement, but she continues before I can muster up a retort, moving the tale along like nothing could stop it.

“You then passed out, and I am not surprised. Just to pull that kind of… not harmlessness from a vampire who can wield shadows, no less. And Halfy finds you about that time, thankfully. Who chases the vampire, but he knew to climb trees. Because he is a three hundred-year-old shadow vampire from Espa, where Akhluts roam. Interesting. We have a few books on Espa in the Grand Library…”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well how she loves to share her knowledge. “Yeah, I know.”

“I have been there a few times…”

“Wait, what?” My eyes shoot at her.

“So, after…” She only meets me with a smile, before starting again, “realizing that this not-quite vampire, chose not to leave, you decided that you could spin this into a possibly a captive with secrets and information that could benefit you.”

Devlyn’s words sit heavily between us, their weight reminding of the moment I reached for him — a pull toward his end that would have been irreversible. I could feel my very core trembling with the chill of that power, a chill meant to bring death, as if death itself sat in the palm of my hand. And yet, something held me back. It would have been so easy, a single command, and he would have crumbled. But something deep, quiet, and insistent told me to stop, to release him, to leave him stripped yet alive. For the first time, it wasn’t fear that held my power back… it was curiosity. A feeling I couldn’t yet name.

“Leaving your mother to decide if she is in a giving mood, “ Devlyn adds a wry smile.

Mother could do what I couldn’t. She could restore life, return what I had taken — should she choose to. There is a power in that, too. Hers is a rare ability, known to restore, not just health but also strength, essence, the full extent of one’s being. She could restore Zanir’s lost power, every shadow and strength that slipped from him with each passing moment after out encounter.

“You decided to leave him defenseless,” Devlyn continues, her gaze piercing. “And yet something stayed your hand, let him keep his life even without his powers.”

The idea of Mother’s ability makes me tense. That power, the opposite of my own, hers to wield alone, one I dreamed instead of my own.

Devlyn’s eyebrows furrow once more, but this time, something in her gaze sharpens, like she is trying to piece together a puzzle I didn’t know I had left behind. “That isn’t even the last of it… You watched him relieve long-forgotten memories. Which, I’ll admit, was sweet.”

Her words hand in the air, but my mind is already on other things. I feel the sting of the handprint on my thigh again, and I pull my legs fully out of the tub. It should be boiling by now, but it feels like I’m freezing, or maybe it’s just the coldness in my soul. My legs rub against the roughness of the tub’s edge, and my thigh is raw — bruised — though the handprint remains, buried under my skin like a brand.

I force my face under the water, and a snarl moves past my teeth, bubbles rising to the surface. But the sound isn’t enough to drown out the memory of the Balaur, roaring beneath the water. I force my thoughts back to the present.

I break the surface of the water, pushing strands of wet black hair from my face. Devlyn, as usual, is sprawled across the bed, looking at me with that too-knowing expression. The one she’s perfected over the years.

”Then, you left him with Halfy and…” She shoots upright, her eyes fixed on me, intense now. “You let the beast out.” She whispers, almost too quiet. “You let Kiza out.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My mind races, thoughts scattering. I know what she’s talking about. I know what I did. But hearing her say it — that way — feels like a betrayal, even though she is right. It makes everything more real, more dangerous.

I thought Zanir talked too much.

“You know why,” I say, my voice colder than I intend. I stand, water runs down my freezing skin. My body is stiff with strain I can’t hide. I reach for a towel draped over a chair near the tub. My skin prickling as I wrap it around myself. Goosebumps running down my arms, but it is not from the cold of the room.

Don’t. Say. His. Name. Anymore.

Devlyn’s eyes grow hazy for a moment, a distant look crossing her features. I freeze, not daring to breathe.

I can feel it. The change in the room. She tapped into something of mine — something she was not supposed to know. No one is supposed to find out. My heart skips a beat as her gaze fixes on me, and I quickly look away. My mental door — locked.

“Yes…” Devlyn huffs, rubbing her temples with a sideways glance that catches me off guard.

A shudder of shame prickles through me. I hadn’t meant to do that. I never would… not to my friends.

A memory crashes over me, vivid and raw, like an old scar torn open.

The first time I escaped… I remember who found me. His unruly, curly copper hair looked dark in the dim light of the alleyway. I couldn’t see his freckles, but I could see the boyish charm everyone seemed to love, but I could see the monster beneath it.

He looked down at me with those cold, amber, unyielding eyes, ordering me back. His grip was unbreakable, his hand tight on my arm, pulling me toward the castle. Panic had welled up inside me, and without realizing my will, could overpower him. I felt him flinch, his own hand trembling against him as it moved to the dagger from his belt.

“Let me go, Taeral.” I had whispered, not realizing I was already steering his thoughts, his body. With every ounce of desperation, I pushed, and he raised the dagger to his own throat.

I had meant to break free, not to hurt him. I stopped just in time, right before the blade pressed into his skin. When the other scouts arrived, Taeral was passed out beside me, the dagger inches from his hand, and I sat there sobbing, the weight of what I almost did, a chill I couldn’t shake.

And here I am again — on the brink of using another power that felt like a curse.

Devlyn huffs again, shaking her head. Her eyes are fixed on me, studying, as if she is choosing her words carefully.

“After running through the forest, you hear Halfy’s howl and… the shriek of a Samca.” Her voice lowers, almost theatrically, like she is drawing out the story for effect.

“And you killed it…” She leans in, voice dropping even further. Her steel eyes are sharp like a sword as she steps closer, grabbing my wrist and tracing the mark inked there, the bound of the beast that now binds the Samca remembrance to me. Her fingers follow the lines slowly, and I fight the shiver rising under my skin.

She lets my wrist drop, a flicker of hesitation crosses her face as she moves back toward the bed, raking her hand through her short-wine red hair, her fingers brushing the tattooed swirls along her scalp.

“Then, you go toe-to-toe with a damn Balaur,” she mutters, voice muffled as her hands cover her mouth. “A fucking dragon, Mihaela.” Her eyes wide, and she pauses, as if the words themselves are too much. “Which was also… bound.”

I pull the towel around me tighter, feeling colder as the water drips down my legs, pooling onto the wooden floor.

There is a heavy silence. Devlyn’s lips part, as though she’s about to push further, but then something changes in her expression. Her eyes soften. She lets out a small sigh, deciding to let it go… for now.

“Yeah, that all sounds about right,” I say lightly, walking over to the small table where my worn out scout’s clothes rest. “How was your week?”

She meets me with a small, appreciating smile. “Let’s just say, a little less exciting than yours.”

There is a small table next to the tub and the chair where the towel was. The table holds a single candlestick, the flame flickers faintly as it nears its end. I flick my wrist toward it with a deep exhale, sending a small breeze. The flame jumps, flaring bright and will — then suddenly pops, plunging the corner into darkness. I stifle a groan. Thankfully, other candles cast enough light across the room to avoid making things more awkward.

After everything in the past few days, I realize that the more I use my powers — intentionally or not — the more they start to slip, growing reckless. And not to mention this relentless cold…

“Mostly stressful, but that is only partly your fault.” Devlyn leans forward, propping her face in her palms, smirking. “Your mother met with some nymphs while you were off lollygagging through the Endless Forest.”

I shimmy into my baggy shirt, tugging the sleeves down to cover the Samca mark on my wrist. Untucked, the shirt hangs to my knees — curse this small body, but at least it covers the handprint still on my thigh. I feel Devlyn’s eyes on me as I glance up, noticing she’s shifted positions again, now resting against the headboard but still fidgeting.

“Nymphs? Why was she meeting with nymphs?” I ask, quickly crossing the room to the bed.

“They called a meeting with your mother on behalf of Leshy.”

“Leshy? The forest guardian?” I crawl past Devlyn as she raises a brow, watching me with that knowing look of hers. “Doesn’t he work with Muma Padurii?”

Leshy, a spirit of the forest, is said to look like a magnificent tree, with a face embedded in his bark if you look closely enough. Legends say he was conjured by Muma Padurii herself, the mother of the forest. But why reach out to Mother?

“Yes, which makes your shadow vampire’s meeting with Muma Padurii all the more interesting,” she says, crossing arms thoughtfully.

“I don’t claim him,” I huff, shoving my legs under the blanket.

With my legs stretched out, my feet hang off the edge. Is this a child’s bed? I draw my knees close to my chest, wrapping my arms around them.

“He is just someone who, clearly, has information that could benefit the clan,” I add, “and who wants his precious… powers back.”

And maybe that’ll prove my worth to the clan. To Mother.

“Hmm…” Devlyn leans forward, her gaze steady.

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me.” I bury my face in the blanket.

“I saw your hands earlier. And I’m not talking about the new ink.” She tugs at the blanket. “The purples… the cold. I could feel it coming off you. I still can.”

I groan, tossing the blanket off me. “Honestly… these past few days, I have opened my mental door more than I should have.” Images flash through my mind — the bite, the Samca, the Balaur. Everything has been persistent. “I think I have weakened the locks.” I meet her gaze, a moment of desperation surfacing. “Kiza… our power is leaking through. Leaving my emotions, my feelings… more intense.”

Sure, that sounds normal. I lift the edge of my oversized shirt, exposing the faint handprint on my thigh, red and slightly bruised in a way no amount of scrubbing has managed to fade.

“And you sure he has no… powers?” Her eyes drift to the mark, her eyes intense.

“As far as I know.” I respond. Passing out for hours and the drained feeling in my bones are all the proof I need… I think.

“So, you think this from… your powers?” Her fingers trace over my wrist, the pale skin, almost snow-white, except for a faint purple where his hand had touched mine.

A shaky breath escapes me, but Devlyn’s touch steadies me, grounding me against the swirling of my mind.

“Do you remember when I was younger, when Mother brought all those powerful wizards to the castle? My powers… when they got so wild and feral…” I swallow, my voice barely steady. “When I couldn’t control myself? My powers were — and still are — tied to strong emotions. During those times, even a touch could leave… marks.”

A spark of a memory surges — a pair of hands clutching my arms, dragging me behind the wards. My chest tightens, a raw panic rising with the phantom pain, the fear still echoing. I pull my legs closer, pressing my knees tight, trying to push it all back down. Even now, the thought of losing control makes me feel weak, like something broken. I have spent years locked everything down, keeping it in check, being exactly who people needed me to be. But something in me is… chipping away.

When my eyes move back to Devlyn, she has gone unusually still, her fingers tightening for an instant against my arm. A moment of something — it flashes in her eyes, quick and concealed, but I catch it. Her face smooths in an instant, her hand retreating slightly.

“Are all your getting out of.. control?” she asks, but her tone has changed, lower and watchful, as though weighing every word. She clears her throat and glance quickly at the door before looking at me again, her expression back to its usual guarded calm.

I frown slightly, something in her reaction tugs at me. “I haven’t purposely…” I turn my gaze away. “Used anything more than what you already know… but it feels like they’re slipping through. Like they’re flowing without any thought…”

Which makes me dangerous.

Devlyn’s expression softens into a rare smile, an unfamiliar gentleness that almost doesn’t suit her. “Did this all start after meeting the shadow vampire?”

“Honestly…” I start, unsure, but her face hardens again, as if bracing for an answer she might not like.

“That didn’t last long,” I mumble to myself. “I felt a change before I left. That is why I needed space, to figure it out on my own.”

My eyes drop, my stomach twisting. I hate being the burden in anyone else’s story. I’m young compared to most in this world, surrounded by beings who have lived countless lives, made every mistake I haven’t even dreamed of yet. But in the mortal world, I am an adult — I should have it together, powers or not.

“Devlyn, I couldn’t stand being locked away again…”

Her hands reach for mine once more, catching me off guard. The absence of warmth this time — no strange heat sparking like Zanir’s — actually calms me. For once, her hands are simply there, holding me in place, her grip firm but familiar.

“You are so frustrating,” she huffs, squeezing my hands with a hint of irritation. “You know you have people. You have me if you ever need help.”

Her words settle over me, though they feel like they’re sinking into something hollow. The truth is, I want her to understand, to truly know why I left. I swallow against the dryness in my throat.

“I know…” I say in a voice I barely recognize as my own, rough around the edges and uncertain.

Guilt ripples through me. Devlyn is my friend, yet there is always this line I don’t want to cross, even with her. She is Mother’s second, always so controlled, with a thousand responsibilities on her shoulder. And here I am, another problem she was sent to handle because I went and made a mess of things — my mess.

“Just…” She pauses, taking a steadying breath, her tone a gentle command. “Remain. Calm.” She breathes out slowly and I match her, letting the air slip from my lungs.

Her fingers entwine with mine. A flush of red fills my skin, thawing the cold that clings to me like a shadow. Great. Just when I start feeling in control, here I go, spilling over again. I could use those ten drinks, right now.

But I let her, her presence, steady me until the redness fades, settling back into my bones with a dim hum.

“Now, let’s get some sleep. I know you need it.” She squeezes my hands, and I manage a faint smile. I raise my wrist, the Samca ink still visible in the low light, and twist my fingers with a sigh. The candles’ flame flicker and all go out in one small final pop.

…and all fall straight to the ground.

“Shit.”

Devlyn chuckles softly. “I’ll handle it in the morning.”