Thirty days had passed since the bloodshed in the forest. After the battle, Ahrden had stayed at Felinda's for a few days so she could look after him as he recovered from the horrid state he was in. Afterwards, he went straight home, where he had been ever since.
Single-handedly he was able to do what only a small army could have, but he was unable to deal with the aftermath. The path he was on was a lonely one, and in many regards, he considered this a great perk, but now that he had none to guide him through the psychological torment, it was an agonizing thing to experience.
He had seen death before; he had done things that required time to process, but the scale at which these were present on that white day in the forest was one he had not yet experienced. He did what the army marching to the encampment needed to do, but this meant that he alone had to process the deeds that should have been spread out among the army.
This was the first time Ahrden considered the idea that maybe he hadn't done the right thing. The arguments supporting his deed were long and impressive: the Velintenal outpost was in their territory for the purpose of spying on their capital; he was defending his nation; and the outpost would have been overrun whether he came or not. Yet the fact that he alone could do what he did felt in some ways wrong—not even wrong, but rather unfair. At the end of the day, fewer people died than if he hadn't shown up, but the ones who did die fought someone they couldn't defeat.
Every time he began to accept the idea that he wasn't in the wrong, his nightmares pushed him back into doubt. He started having the same nightmare night after night, where he saw Malitez as he had stood before him when he was protecting Belentedor from Inferno. All Malitez did in his dream was laugh and ask him:
"How are you any better than me?"
He had felt Alia signal him a few times through the medallion, but he never answered. No one came to visit him, despite the many families that remained whole because of him—including Sophia's. He was alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company, and that was a dangerous thing. He knew this could not go on for long, so he did what he always did in the past when he had to deal with something difficult: he buried himself under books.
He learned many spells, bettered his skills, and deepened his knowledge. He spent his time well, yet the blood didn't seem to fade from his hands. At one point during this frenzied studying, Ahrden felt he had had enough—he needed to get out. He simply could not bear to remain within these walls a minute longer.
Ahrden slowly stood up, unsure what had changed in him so drastically, but he could not get to the bottom of this sensation, nor could he ignore it. He looked up and noticed only then that heavy rain was beating down on the roof, and through his senses he could also tell—although no light could come through the covered windows—that it was afternoon.
After leaving the cozy study, Ahrden walked to the front door and looked at his boots on the floor beside him, then at the coat that hung from the rack. He felt utter emptiness. He needed to drown his feelings after that day in the snow to live through the days that followed, and it seemed he had been more successful than he would have hoped. It was strange for him to stand there by the door and look at something so ordinary that it shouldn't really make him feel anything, yet he could tell he was empty inside. Strange, but scary. Not painful in the moment, but agonizing to understand what it meant.
Ahrden was moving from questioning his deeds to questioning his existence. He had been in a deep hole before, but now he was deeper than ever.
He clenched his right fist so hard that blood appeared beneath his nails—just to feel something. He felt it, but the sensation was fleeting, and it was gone in the next second. He looked around, wondering when the last time was that he left his study for anything other than the most essential things. A fine layer of dust had settled on everything in the living room, showing how little he interacted with anything beyond his study. He sniffed the air, then gestured with his hand. All the windows flung open, and a gushing gale he conjured rushed through the house, sweeping through everything it could touch.
Spring was around the corner, but the air was still ice-cold. He could maintain warmth in his study through his arcane magic, and some of it seeped into the other parts of the house too. Now he welcomed the freezing air that assailed his whole body as he stood in the epicenter of the small hurricane.
Soon, however, the sensation dulled, just as the pain in his palm had, and afterwards he stood in the roaring wind aching to feel something. He wanted rain on his skin.
The windows swung closed again, and the wind stopped in an instant. Ahrden looked down at his boots again, then up at his coat, then down at his boots again. He started walking toward the door, then mid-step teleported to the other side of it and continued his walk in front of the house.
The rain felt sublime on his skin while the softer wind came anew at him. The cold mud under his bare feet felt soft and welcoming as it flowed through his toes every time he took a step. His clothes were soaked in a matter of seconds and now stuck firmly to his body. His hair, which had grown longer than he usually allowed it to, floated freely into his view, but it didn't bother him in the least.
The feeling held longer than any of the ones before it, and just as it too was going to lose its edge, Ahrden felt something else. It was the signaling of a ward he had placed, and since he hadn't placed many, he knew right away which one it was.
All he had been doing was studying and practicing the arcane arts, and now a small family he cared about was in trouble. Ahrden knew why and how he had gotten into the pit he was in, but the instant he felt that ward being triggered, he also knew he would go through armies before letting harm come to that family. And this brought him clarity.
The world was not black or white—but maybe it could be. Battle, death, and suffering were part of everyday life in the Valley. One could only avoid it for so long, but eventually it would find even the most hidden family in the forest. If one could do what he could and chose not to do anything, then more people died than needed for everyday life to go on. He was better than any at ending a conflict the way he wanted it to end, but that didn't make what he did a bad thing. What he needed were morals—a compass that wouldn't allow him to turn into Malitez.
Malitez fought to take from others; Ahrden fought to preserve what others sought to take.
The wards were signaling because the family under their watch was in harm's way. Going there meant that Ahrden was going to use his arcane—and use it against steel—probably to a lesser extent than what had put him in this state, but the principle would be the same. Now, however, he felt that this very deed was going to save him from the abyss he had fallen into, because although it was true that he would use his arcane against steel, it would not be to take, but to preserve.
What he did when he painted that white forest red, he did to preserve, not to conquer. Many more lives would have been lost if he hadn't shown up to the conflict that was birthed by the Evil King's hunger to take, and President Kirthen's inability to see reason.
Ahrden could finally see the moral compass he had been following so far. It felt right to him—but this was probably true about how Malitez felt about his compass too. What Ahrden needed to do from now on was to stay true to this compass; if he could do that, time would tell if he had tricked himself and become a tyrant like Malitez, or if indeed what he did was the right thing to do.
Ahrden teleported, and when he materialized, he found himself on the edge of the clearing he had helped create for the family that saved him after his failed attempt at the dungeon that eventually rewarded him with three books. He stood behind the tree line, remaining hidden, and from there he observed the events before the house.
There were three soldiers not far from the house: two still on their giant war horses, and their leader beside his mount, talking to Bernard, who stood in front of him; behind Bernard was the remaining family—Candice and Lucy. The soldiers wore elaborate matte black armor, which distinguished them as high-ranking members of the Velintenal army. Ahrden's first guess was that they were tax collectors, and they weren't happy with what Bernard was telling them.
Suddenly the soldier swung his armor-clad hand and hit Bernard across the face. Bernard fell into the dirt but immediately started getting to his feet again. Upon closer examination, Ahrden could see this wasn't the first time the elderly farmer had been struck; his face bore many marks of past blows as well. Ahrden cloaked himself with his spells and started for the scene.
As he drew closer, his heightened senses were able to pick up the conversation.
"I'm telling you, peasant, if you keep lying to me, all you'll get is pain. Soon my patience will run out, and then your family will receive pain as well. Now tell me, how did you clear this many trees and stock up this much firewood since last year without hiring workers?"
"Please, I'm telling you the truth. I worked all day and all night… I can't afford any workers; my work is all I have."
"Liar!"
Bernard fell to the ground again, wiping away the blood that was trickling from his mouth. His wife had been instructed well not to intervene, but she could not hold back her crying, nor could Lucy. Every time Bernard was struck, Candice let out a short, desperate whimper—something she could not suppress, no matter how much she tried.
"Then you bought it, or you had others help you for free—family, maybe. Either way, you have to tell me, because I'm not buying that you have no coin for taxes when you've stockpiled enough firewood to last you a decade. I want coins, old man, do you hear me? Coins!"
'Please, I'm begging you, it was only me.'
Ahrden could not believe his eyes and ears—how this poor old man would not give him up when clearly his family was on the line. He never knew that his aid would have such consequences, but the fact that it did meant that he couldn't even help someone freely without needing to worry that harm would come to them because of him. Luckily, he had placed those wards around the clearing so he could right his wrong.
'Then we take you back to Basterran where you can stand trial for your crimes.'
'No, please. My family… I'm all they have. I can't leave them here.'
'Then they'll come with us too. Don't worry, we'll find them jobs that we believe would fit them the most.'
The two soldiers in the back chuckled, knowing what the fate of the mother and the young girl would be if they were taken back to the capital as outlaws with no one to look out for them.
Ahrden's blood boiled, and he could not stay hidden any longer. He knew what he needed to do. He needed to preserve this family.
He was close enough to converse with them freely, so he dropped his cloaking spell before speaking.
'My name is Ahrden. I am the mage from the Polenteus nation whom your bastard king cannot get rid of. I helped this family widen the clearing and stock up all the firewood. And now you are going to die.'
Nobody moved, nobody talked. The way Ahrden had appeared in the garden, out of thin air, and said what he had was so impossible that no one knew how to react. It was the leader who regained his composure the fastest and drew his blade while turning toward him.
'You'll die for your crimes, you demon spawn. I'll be made general for being the one to strike you down.'
When the leader started charging, Ahrden found the situation comical. The distance between them was enough for him to easily conjure a blade of arcane and throw it at the nearing soldier before he would even reach him. The arcane blade sizzled as it travelled through the soldier without pause, who died before even collapsing.
The other two soldiers remained on their horses, unsure how to interpret the events, but when they saw their leader die without being able to swing his sword once, they became terrified. They looked at each other and decided that killing the mage was still more likely than running away, so they charged as one.
Ahrden thought this an excellent time to try out a new spell he had recently learned. He focused, took up the casting stance, and executed the spell. He could see the arcane rope as it formed around the two soldiers and connected them to trees at the other side of the clearing. As they charged, the rope ran out, and when it became taut, the soldiers went flying backwards. The horses, frightened after losing their riders, ran in different directions away from the clearing. Ahrden ceased the spell, and with much effort the soldiers got to their feet and drew their swords, readying themselves to charge again, on foot this time.
The soldiers neared, and Ahrden gathered arcane to himself, readying his next spell. Once the tax collectors had built a great deal of momentum, he released a violent burst of energy that knocked them back, taking away all the motion they had built up over the short distance. When they stopped staggering backwards, they were about to renew their charge; then Ahrden teleported next to one and teleported him away from there.
They materialized high up in the air, from where Ahrden teleported even farther away, bringing the soldier with him. His goal was to have the body be found so far from Bernard's family that no suspicion would fall on them. Once he found the distance sufficient, he let the screaming soldier go and teleported out of the sky and back to the clearing.
When he arrived, Bernard was shouting, Lucy crying, and Candice screaming as she was being dragged away by her hair. The last soldier had reason to be terrified, and he knew that without leverage he was not going to make it out alive.
'Stop right there, or I'll kill her. I swear I'll kill her.'
Ahrden turned toward the warrior who held Candice in front of him as a human shield, with his short knife at her throat. No matter what people saw Ahrden do, they could not stop thinking outside their steel-dominated world. With a wave of his hand, Ahrden heated the metal gloves of the soldier to the point that he screamed and let the knife go, as his fingers could no longer keep hold of its handle.
With Candice free from impending death, Ahrden wrapped his power around her and pulled her toward him. She literally flew across the distance until Ahrden caught her in his arms and gently helped her stand. Once she was stable on her own, Ahrden looked back at the soldier, who now stood alone and could do nothing but watch. The soldier began to fall to his knees to beg for mercy, but it was too late for him. He had played all his cards, and only when he had nothing left did he resort to pleading. Ahrden didn't let his knees touch the ground; he took him away too—up in the air in a totally different direction than where he had taken the other—and let him fall to his death. Afterwards, he moved the leader's dead body too, but he didn't drop it, as there was no need to humiliate an already dead body. He just placed it under the thick foliage in a dark corner of the forest.
When Ahrden arrived back at the clearing, the small family was tightly hugging each other, and upon his arrival, Bernard moved in front of them.
'From the bottom of my heart, thank you for saving us. I was never going to be able to repay you for how you helped the last time, and now it is certain that I'll be forever in your debt.'
'Don't mention it. This is partially my fault—that you were in this position at all. I should be thanking you for keeping true to your word and not giving me up.'
'What is a man's worth if he is not true to his word?'
'That I agree with. Did these soldiers come every year to collect the tax?'
'For the past ten years, yes. They have been the ones.'
'Well then, with them gone, no one should notice the unprecedented growth of your clearing, and the large stockpile shouldn't be so outstanding either for someone new.'
'Certainly, Sir, certainly. I'm sure there will be no trouble anymore.'
'Please, call me Ahrden. I can see the leader's horse is still here, and if I'm not mistaken, those large sacks are full of the tax collected from the region. Will you be able to find the other two horses who ran away?'
'I know I don't own any horse now, but trust me, boy, handling them is something I can never forget. I'll track them down in no time. Trust me, Sir.'
'That is great, but you'll need to get rid of them, because the presence of such elite war horses here will raise questions about how they came to be yours.'
'Certainly, Sir. I know a merchant that I trust—he'll take care of them. But, Sir, you have to take the money; we don't deserve it. You have already helped us more than we ever deserved to be helped.'
'On that part, you are wrong. Take the money; use it as you see fit. Help the ones who need helping, but don't draw too much attention. I trust you the most to make sure those coins will find their way into the hands that need it the most.'
'Sir, I'm not worthy of your benevolence. How could I ever repay you?'
'You don't owe me anything, Bernard, but you can continue to give back to the world as you have before. Spread your kindness and teach Lucy to have the same caring heart that you and Candice have.'
'Thank you, Sir Ahrden. You'll forever live in our hearts.'
Ahrden walked up to shake Bernard's hand but ended up helping him up after he knelt before him. When he went past him, he walked up to Candice and Lucy, where he smiled at Candice, then squatted down to be at eye level with Lucy. Her eyes were still red from crying, but her joy at how the events turned out was evident on her face.
'You were very brave today, Lucy.'
She could not respond to that.
'What do you see when you look out there?' Ahrden asked as he motioned toward the clearing and the forest.
'Garden to work on. Forest to gather food from,' Lucy answered in a quiet and shy voice.
'Would you like to know what I see?'
Lucy nodded excitedly.
'I see balance. I see harmony. I see equilibrium. Between life, matter, and arcane. What you need to understand is that you decide how you want to see what is before you. You can grow up seeing this land and forest the way you see it now, but you can also learn to see it the way I do. You know your way of making nature bend to your will, but you have also seen my way. My way is not easier; it is not better. It is different. Through countless devoted hours and unwavering dedication, you can learn to do what I can. Would you like that?'
Ahrden was aware that he had just used his power to kill three tax collectors, but he saw that rare intelligence in Lucy's eyes that told him she could look beyond that. Ahrden had a feeling that the memory of him clearing the forest in a matter of minutes lived in her memory just as vividly as this day would, and that she could appreciate the beauty of what he was trying to express to her.
She nodded—unsure at first, but more confidently as she kept on nodding.
Ahrden turned backwards and reached his hand out toward one of the sacks that hung on the leader's horse, which was still standing on the road. He cast a spell, and through a small rip, a gold coin flew into his palm. He turned back toward Lucy and fed arcane into the coin; he levitated it between Lucy and himself, then liquefied it mid-air. As the flowing gold hovered between them, he could see the amazed face of Lucy as she marvelled at what she saw. Ahrden didn't know how he had looked at the old baker when he snatched the coin away from him, but he imagined his expression to be somewhat similar. He finally molded the gold into a coin shape again and carefully etched a well-practised rune into it. Once he cooled it down, he grabbed it from the air and showed it to Lucy.
'The mark you can see here is called a rune, and it allows a mage to exert his will on an object more easily. This is one of the simplest runes, and it allows anyone who can exert a strong enough will on the arcane world to call the item to him. Look.'
Ahrden threw the coin away and gestured with his hand, which caused the coin to fly back to him, lightning-fast. When he caught it, he turned back toward Lucy.
'This might seem similar to how I snatched it from the sack the first time, or how I drew your mother to me when she was in danger, but the mechanism behind it is totally different. In short: it is easier this way. Obey your father, help your mother, but if you are willing, practice this in your free time, so when the time comes for you to have the chance to decide how you want to look at the world, you'll have the opportunity to glimpse what my world can offer. The way you call upon this rune is the following: first, you need to calm yourself, clear your mind. You need to feel the arcane surging around everything. This same energy is what will enable you to call the coin to you. Once you can feel the arcane present in everything around you, and especially in the rune, follow this movement.'
Ahrden showed Lucy the gestures through which she could call the coin to her, along with the command he had not needed to use in a long time.
'In time, this movement will shorten, but this is the full range of motion; this is what you need to practice. The road will not be short, and it will not be an easy one, but if you put your mind to it, you will reach your goal. If you seek knowledge, all you have to do is look for it, and you'll find what you need.'
Ahrden stood up and looked into the sparkling-eyed Lucy, feeling proud. He handed the runed coin to her.
'May our paths cross again.'
Ahrden then turned around to face Bernard again.
'I hope you'll give her a chance to become what she wants to become.'
'Of course. I'll support my baby girl no matter what.'
Ahrden knew Bernard told him the truth, and he smiled at his kindness again.
'Farewell then. May the future bring less trouble to your household, and as for Lucy, cherish her and support her, no matter the path she chooses.'
Ahrden was never good at accepting praises and admiration, so he teleported away in his still-soaked clothes, which he had somehow failed to acknowledge through everything that was going on. When he arrived in front of his house, the rain had already stopped, and the clouds were clearing from the sky, letting the weak rays of the sun through. No matter how soft the rays were, they reached Ahrden, who could feel even these light touches of nature, and he was eternally grateful for it.
This beautiful moment was further elevated by another signal Ahrden felt reach him. It was similar to the wards that had told him about the family, yet it was nothing like them. Since he had given Alia the medallion, they hadn't once met because of it. He had felt her signal him before—but only a few times—and he was never in the state of mind to answer the call.
Now she had signaled him just as he had resurfaced from the deepest psychological pit he had ever found himself in. After the initial burst of joy and excitement, he felt a hint of disappointment for never going to her when she called before. With questionable success, he tried to overpower it with the growing thrill of the coming meeting.
Despite his soaked clothes, bare feet, and long wet hair flung everywhere, Ahrden teleported. He arrived not far from where he felt the signal coming from, and once there, he immediately felt around with his heightened senses. He could feel Alia not far from him, up on a tall tree, sitting in a calm and relaxed posture. He looked up, and their eyes locked; then she motioned with her head to join her, and in the next second, Ahrden was sitting opposite her on the broad branch.
At first, neither of them spoke; they just studied each other. It had been a while since they had last seen each other. Alia looked stunning as always, with her fierce, green, piercing eyes, and her close-fitted leather clothes followed her body so seamlessly that Ahrden could not help but follow the curves along the way. Her hair flowed over her right shoulder, and Ahrden could swear the flower scent he smelled was coming from her.
When Alia first saw Ahrden arrive, she could barely believe her senses—that he had actually turned up for the very first time. After the initial excitement, she was pleasantly shocked to see how Ahrden had arrived. She couldn't put her finger on what aspect of his unorthodox condition intrigued her, but the fact that he was flexible and confident enough to show up like this made him grow in her eyes. After he teleported in front of her on the branch, she could get a closer look at him, and she too became immersed in studying him, the same way he was looking over her.
'I was beginning to think your gift didn't work after all,' Alia said, playing with the delicate jewelry between her fingers.
Ahrden felt so ashamed for not turning up for the previous signals that he didn't even voice his opinion about how she could have signaled him sooner and more often.
'I assume we have time now,' Ahrden said, jumping over the initial awkward bit that he could not correct at that moment.
'Yes, we do; I'm watching over this eastern border section for a while.'
'You? I thought your skills would be put to better use than keeping an eye on a region.'
This was the first time Ahrden had actually looked out toward what lay before them. The tree they were on stood at the edge of a large cliff overhanging a vast forest beneath it. From there, Ahrden could see far, both above and within the forest that stretched in every direction. They were relatively close to the edge of the Valley, and Ahrden could see the massive mountain chain lining their Valley as it ran along the forest in the distance. It wasn't often that he came this close to the edge of the Valley, and he always marvelled at the sheer size of these mountains that surrounded them. The view was beautiful, and only the melodic voice of Alia tore his gaze from the spectacular sight.
'I could arrange to be absent from this duty, but I believe that leaders should show the way through action rather than just through words. Plus, whenever I come up here, I tend to play around with this medallion, hoping that one day it would actually have merit.'
Learning this filled Ahrden with warmth and pain. He didn't know how to respond for a few seconds, so she continued.
'I've heard…'
'No.'
Alia started her sentence absently while looking out over the land that stretched before them and was startled by how Ahrden cut her off. She turned her attention back to him and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
'I've told you so much about me, but I don't know anything about you. Please tell me about yourself.'
Alia was not used to being surprised so often by someone. Inwardly she was laughing with joy; outwardly only a tiny smile betrayed her feelings. When Ahrden had told her all about himself on the top of that mountain, she had been genuinely fascinated by him. She was also confident he would never be this curious about her. This being technically the first occasion when the situation allowed and welcomed such a conversation, Alia was delighted that Ahrden had jumped on the opportunity to get to know her better rather than dive into other matters. Without even fully acknowledging it, in the next second she was already telling Ahrden everything.
Alia's mother was a potion-maker, and from a very early age she taught her how to master the profession without her needing to actually choose it. Her mother knew that Alia could never settle to be a potion-maker because she always strived to be more and craved to be tested at every step of the way. Her father was a rogue, and his class could offer her the life she wanted. Like his wife, he too taught Alia everything he knew, and by the time their graduation ceremony came, she bested most of the adult rogues. Her level of mastery attracted a lot of attention and turned many heads. Without any problem, she got into the elite rogue division of her nation, but her skills brought her many sorrows too.
Since she could remember, she had a friend, Samantha, and the two of them were inseparable. They went everywhere together, they did everything together, and it seemed that nothing could ever stand between them.
They became rogues together, and they were part of the same team. They were always ahead of the others, and they never failed to display this. They were reckless individually, but they felt like they owned the world when they were together. Between the two of them, Samantha was more reasonable—but not by much—and she could easily be persuaded.
There was one mission they always fantasized about doing. There was a small Velintenal outpost that was rumored to have the most accurate map of that region. It was a prized objective and a worthy challenge among the rogues in her nation, and one day a special group was being assembled to steal that information. Alia's father was part of that group, and from him she knew when the mission would happen.
When the time neared, all she and Samantha could talk about was that mission and how awesome it would be if they could be on the team. That was when Alia first proposed that they should try to do it alone. The following few days were all about convincing Samantha, who eventually gave in. They spent every waking hour in the following days plotting their own mission, which they planned to execute before the official group was scheduled to go.
Under the shroud of night, they headed out a day before the original group. They both believed they could pull it off despite their youth and inexperience, and as Alia thought back, she still shared that opinion. But she cracked under the pressure. It was she who gave them up, which led to them taking out two guards and hiding the bodies in a small storage compartment. They hid with the bodies in the small confined space in the middle of the outpost and prayed that their people would get to them faster than the Velintenal soldiers would notice the missing guards.
The specially selected team of rogues eventually became the rescue party, and the stealth mission turned into a war-cry-filled massacre. A few days later, Alia found herself collapsed in front of Samantha's grave. She was numb to the outside world and thought she would never recover from it.
Alia had already dedicated her life to her class and was already among the best, but this pain drove her to reach heights she could never have reached otherwise.
After she lost Samantha, the only person she could connect with was her older brother. He was a hunter, and the family's talent manifested in him too. Through him, Alia learned to handle the bow as well as he did, and most of her animal-tracking skills came from him. Her brother had a similar drive; he was reckless and welcomed adventure and danger. Alia's grieving seemed endless, and only her brother could mend her soul. The two grew very close over the years that followed—a bond formed that had not existed until Samantha was gone.
Alia was on a promising path to recover from the loss she fully claimed responsibility for when this newfound connection was also taken from her. On one fateful day, when her brother was stationed at a small village with his team, his life came to an abrupt end—and with it, any hope that Alia would ever have a normal life.
Such ambushes as the one her brother fell victim to weren't unheard of, but since the small town was populated only by civilians, save for a few soldiers stationed there, there wasn't much honor in the attack. The Polenteus forces swept through the village unannounced and without mercy, killing everyone there. No one knew the cause of the bloodshed, but both leaders of the nations stayed uncharacteristically quiet about the subject, making people think there was more behind it than the public was told.
With time—and with many new deaths from other conflicts—Alia's brother's death sank into the depths of stories and lived on only in tales and history books. But not for her. Her soul had barely managed to endure one loss, and this second one was not something she could easily add to her burdens and cope with.
Alia became the youngest ever to receive her own team within the elite rogue division. She put everything into forging the best rogue team the Valley had ever seen. She didn't let anyone get close to her after her brother passed—partly because she was afraid she would lose that person too, and partly because it would only distract her from her goals. The fact that no one interested her enough to even consider letting them in was also a reason, though she preferred to emphasize the first two to herself.
Not long ago, her father had fallen ill with a mysterious disease that no one could name, and thus no one could cure. After many months of suffering, he eventually lost the battle. When he died, Alia was at least able to prepare for it over those months. What she didn't expect was that his passing would break her mother. Her mother could not endure living on as before, so she exiled herself—moving to a village where the sick went when they had no one to care for them—and she had been living there ever since, taking care of those in need.
This was the story of how Alia became who she was now: this fierce, skillful, professional master with a soul that needed mending and a heart that needed feeling. She was tough on the outside and even tougher on the inside, and so far, no one had what it took to get through all of her defenses.
Alia didn't quite understand what had gotten into her. She had never told anyone what she now so openly and willingly told Ahrden. She had also never actively sought out the company of another—especially after being turned down by that person. Finally, since losing her friend and her brother, she had never allowed herself to be so lost in another's company that she wouldn't notice her own team approaching, especially while on lookout duty.
'Alia, who are you talking to?'
She shot her head down and saw Mudron walking toward the tree. With her heart pounding frantically, she felt the weight on the branch lessen before she could turn back to see that her Ahrden was gone.
No. Not her Ahrden. Just simply Ahrden.
She smiled and savored the sound of that thought.