Chapter 30
Yin
What an infuriating man. Captain Yang is categorically the most irritating person I have ever met. It isn’t just his blind arrogance. It’s that streak of… naïveté. As if he genuinely believes what he’s doing is right.
When I stood there and told him he has no morals, it wasn’t true. Whether I want to admit it or not, he is a principled man. His principals have just become twisted by somebody else. He has given too much of his power to others, and he no longer knows what it feels like to make his own decisions.
But it’s more than that. He has a strange curiosity I haven’t met in anyone else. Certainly not in the closed minded people of my village, and not in the arrogant soldiers of the army.
Though I want to hate him, I can’t bring myself to do so completely. Even though he has tried to manipulate me, somehow I can’t help but feel he’s the closest thing to a friend I have. Castor has abandoned me for whatever reason, and I’m now virtually on my own. So as sad as it sounds, Yang is the closest thing resembling a friendly face, even if I really want to punch that face.
Despite my fight with Yang, I eventually settle down and go to sleep.
I’m not the kind of person who simmers after an altercation. If I were, I’d never get any rest. Instead, after he leaves, I practice for a short while, then retire to my bed.
Though I have a lot to think about, I go to sleep relatively quickly.
I don’t stay asleep.
I start dreaming. Strange, shadowy dreams, the likes of which I have rarely experienced. A sense of doom descends upon me from above, and I feel as if something is rising through the ground. Slowly crawling up, out of the cracks in the earth. It reaches toward me, and no matter where I run, I can’t get away. It’s everywhere. Seeping out of the mountains, billowing out of the plains, and streaming out of the seas.
The darkness.
The foot soldiers of the Night.
I toss and turn as a dream, as they chased me. No matter how hard I try to attack, no matter what training I rely on, I can’t defend myself. There are too many of them.
Time and time again throughout the night I wake, gasping in pain and terror as I free myself from my nightmarish pursuers. But as soon as I return to sleep, the chase begins anew.
By the time I wake in the morning, I’m exhausted. Covered in sweat and shaking, I spend a long while with my back against the wall, and my pillow cuddled against my chest.
I want to believe they were just dreams, but I can’t. My body is so locked with the memory of those nightmares, I feel exactly as if I engaged in the battles in the real world.
It takes me too long to pull myself together, and I can’t quite manage it before I hear of rattling knock on my door and someone barking at me to get ready.
I comply, my arms shaking as I do. Worse than that, my left hand keeps gripping back and forth, as if it’s clutching at nothing but air.
It hurts too. From the palm to the tips of the fingers, it feels as if it’s been flayed. Yet no matter how much I inspect it, I can’t find any sign of injuries.
My Arak device feels cold against my skin too. Far too cold. It’s as if the soul of magic within has been smothered.
I almost want to take it off, but I can’t. Not without cutting off my arm.
I’m deeply unsettled by the time I finish dressing and open the door.
I barely even look at my guards, let alone register their morning insults as I follow them to the square.
Though I’m offered food, I don’t eat. I barely drink. I can’t stomach anything.
I’m less than gratified to find Mae back. Judging by her expression, she shares my sentiment.
As I step down into the square and bristle at the cool morning chill, she shakes her head. “I thought you mountain folk could stand the cold,” she snaps.
I don’t breathe a word. I can’t even think of something to say. My mind is completely focused on my harrowing dreams and what they could mean.
I’m not stupid enough to dismiss them. If I were an ordinary person, maybe I could denounce them as the ramblings of a tired and anxious mind. But I’m not a normal person – I’m the Savior.
They aren’t ordinary nightmares – they are portents.
My future. What will come to pass when the age begins to end.
I continue to shiver as I walk up to Mae. She notes it, but rather than ask what’s wrong, she mutters something under her breath along the lines of me being impossible.
“Before we begin, I want you to know that you are pulling me away from incredibly important business. But since your less than impressive display with the fan yesterday, where you could have almost killed somebody, Garl has insisted I return to training you.”
I barely look at her. Instead, I concentrate on trying to push some heat into my left hand. It feels eerily cold, as if I’ve plunged it into ice and left it there.
“However, Garl, for some reason, wants you to continue learning the fan dance. Despite your foolishness, you were… somewhat effective,” Mae concedes.
For the first time, I actually look at her while she’s speaking to me.
Somewhat effective? I gathered so much power that I shot through a storm. The amount of magic I discharged into the clouds dried up the rain completely. Though Castor always taught me not to be arrogant and to be humble about my powers, Mae is understating things.
Still, I don’t say anything. Nor do I walk away. In fact, I stand there and do whatever it takes to pay attention. I have not forgotten my conclusion from last night. Without Castor’s help, I’m still going to continue my journey. I’ll do it alone. All alone. I will gather the lessons I need, and on the final day of the age, I will fight the Night.
The battle with the leftover demons from my nightmares is just a prelude of what is to come. Knowing that puts it in perspective. It helps me loosen my arms, helps me to ignore the icy touch crawling up my left wrist, radiating from my Arak device as if someone has replaced it with a band of ice.
Mae instructs me to take up a defensive position and hands me a new fan. I take it and get ready.
“Do not stand so heavily. You must be lighter on your feet. You are not a bear. Act like a woman. Your movements must be light, delicate, balanced,” Mae’s voice reverberates on the word balanced.
I look up.
Castor always told me to find my balance. In fact, he emphasized that balance is at the heart of all sorcery. Without balance, there is only chaos. The same chaos that resides within the Night. To hold it back, I must find some way to summon and balance my own magic with that of the spirit of the earth.
As Mae takes up her own defensive position and looks perfectly balanced, I realize maybe I don’t know what it is. I had the hubris to lecture Captain Yang last night about releasing to the spirit of his magic, but maybe I haven’t completely learned that lesson yet myself.
Maybe I’m truly scared to find out what will happen if I release to my Arak device completely. If I dare call upon the Gaea that resides within me and without.
With these thoughts running through my head, I automatically follow Mae’s movements. I don’t think about it, and barely any of my attention is focused on her, just enough to follow, but not enough to engage.
My movements, though more fluid than they were the first time I tried the fan dance, are not as free as what I achieved yesterday. With the rain crashing down around me, I completely let go. It was so invigorating. Now with a veil of fear hanging between me and the world, I just can’t engage.
We practice for a solid 45 minutes before Mae is called away for a short while. She snaps at me to continue practicing, but to be careful. Then she leaves.
It is the first time I’ve been left alone to practice. Though I’ve been practicing in secret in my room, my room does not have the sheer amount of space the square does. I can jump and leap and roll without fear of banging into any walls or beds. At first, I can’t take advantage of that, though. My shoulders are hu
nched in, and my moves small and ineffective. It’s so strange for me, considering how boisterous I usually am. But the specter of my nightmares still hangs low.
I can’t help but feel they are premonitions. It may not happen today or tomorrow, but sometime soon the foot soldiers of the Night will come for me. Without Castor, I will only have myself to rely on.
That thought should fire me up. It should provide the motivation necessary to push past my doubts and concentrate on training.
Not today.
Today it makes me feel smaller than ever.
I continue to train. Except my heart isn’t in it, and my mind is far away, under the earth, waiting for the Night to seep through the cracks and claim me.