187
"I don't see anything."
Amber leaned over the railing, peering into the foliage.
"It's that little spot of grey behind that tree," M explained.
Amber squinted and finally shook her head.
"Must not feel like being social," she commented, and M. laughed.
"Not sure wolves are generally the most social creatures. You see what I mean, right? About the cages not being cages?"
Amber looked pointedly at the large barred fence surrounding the whole area before she shrugged.
"I guess."
"Guys! You're lagging!"
They looked up to see Dani waving them on from down the path. Amber had been wrong after all, Dani apparently did like zoos. She had explained as much sheepishly when Amber had first arrived.
"I mean, maybe their lives would be better in the wild. But some of these species are endangered…if they weren't being taken care of here, they would have died off completely already. So it's kinda a good and bad thing?" Dani had told her.
"Seems the Piano wants us to hurry it up," M. huffed, and Amber rolled her eyes.
"Call her Dani, M."
He just smirked as he followed her away from the wolf enclosure. "So, how was the meeting?"
Amber grimaced. "Boring. There was no point in me being there at all. They never once asked my opinion on anything." She kicked a rock with a scowl. "I'm just a figurehead; a way for Ninjago City Council to prove that they have things 'under control.'"
"Do you want more of a say in things?" M asked. His hands were shoved into his pockets as they walked. Amber thought about it.
"I don't know. The truth is, I couldn't care less about most of the stuff they said. But if I'm going to be there, I should get to do something, right?"
"Hey, slow pokes!" Dani cut in, coming over to nudge Amber as they finally caught up. "Everyone else is already in the house of snakes!"
M. shuddered and Amber frowned.
"You make houses for snakes? Back home they live in the ground."
Dani just laughed, tugging on her arm. "You'll see what I mean when we get there."
"Why did you go to see the snakes?" M. demanded. "They're so…creepy."
"Snakes are cool, Openheimer," Dani argued. "You ever held one in real life? They're just so slithery, and smoother than you would think."
M. looked green as he shuddered again. "No thanks."
"I wanted a snake growing up," Dani mused wistfully. "But June hated them, so we have a cat instead who's so old that it pees everywhere. A snake wouldn't have done that."
Amber smiled as her friends continued to rib into each other. She blinked as she remembered something and turned to the young Openheimer.
"Didn't your Grandpa get back today?"
"Tonight. I have to be back by dinner."
"Marty III making a reappearance, huh?" Dani asked with a smile. "No offense to your old man, but I always was more comfortable around your Gramps."
"Most everyone is. That's what gets Dad riled up," M. said with a smirk. But his mind suddenly seemed far away, and Amber's smile faded.
"Is it…going to be ok tonight?"
He glanced up and smiled. "Yeah, should be fine."
She was going to press further, but a group of teenage boys walked past.
"Oi, look at that, mates! One of the animals escaped!"
Amber glanced over and realized the speaker was nudging his friend and pointing at her. Her cheeks flushed as the other kid laughed.
"We better inform the animal control…tell them to bring their big guns!"
Amber's eyes blazed as she glared at the punks, but before she could say anything, the two figures on either side of her snapped.
"Shut up!" M. yelled, right as Dani began marching over. The boys raised an eyebrow as Dani got close, her bespeckled face glaring daggers.
"You're the only people that deserve to be in cages, you idiots!" she yelled. "What the heck gives you the right to say something like that?"
"Dani…"Amber started, but M. had joined in as the teenagers started jeering at the brown-haired musician.
"Public Harassment," the young Openheimer pointed out. "Seems to me that your boyfriend down at the police station could maybe do something about that, right Dani? Easier to report these bullies than knock sense into their empty heads."
"Guys," Amber sighed, but the boys were already fixing M with a withering look. Dani flushed deep red at the Openheimer's comment, but it did seem to take punks' attention off of her.
"Take it down a notch, kid," one sneered, but M. pulled out his phone nonchalantly.
"No, maybe we should just call Ninjago Council directly. After all, they probably won't take kindly to Ninjago citizens harassing the Oni Ambassador…"
The teenage speaker just rolled his eyes, but his friend's confident expression faded a little. The nervous one began muttering to his accomplice, though Amber couldn't really hear what he was saying other than, "…heard on the news…"
The ringleader finally just shrugged, still sneering.
"Whatever, snot-noses."
They stalked off, with Amber face-palming while her two friends glared at the retreating teens.
"Guys…you can't get this bent out of sorts over every comment," she pointed out dryly, and M. shrugged.
"They don't have any right to talk about you like that."
"Agreed," Dani said, coming back over. But though she was agreeing with M, she was also fixing him with a withering look. "Though, I'd like to point out that Colby is not my boyfriend, ok? And he just volunteers at the Police Station. It's not like he's got any pull."
"They don't know that," M. said smugly, but Amber had a feeling he brought Colby up more to embarrass Dani than as a threat to the teens. Or maybe he just meant to kill two birds with one stone. The Oni rolled her eyes again.
"This is the fifth time you've threatened to call the City Council since I've become the ambassador," she pointed out dryly. "One of these days you should actually do it, just to see that they don't actually care."
"Sure they do," M. said, pocketing his phone. "People can't harass ambassadors. That's the whole point of ambassadors, to make relations better."
"Threats are great and all…but I still think a good punch to the face would have done wonders for their point of view," Dani huffed, tossing her long hair over one shoulder. "Now come on…everyone's gonna be done with the snakes by the time we get there."
"Sounds good to me," M. murmured, only loud enough for Amber to hear. She couldn't help but smile.
Hershel took a deep breath, staring down at the cup of tea once again. He longed to transport to the Western Fortress again—he wanted to talk with Myrah. Tell her about what he had learned about his birth father. But he would have to explain what had happened on the Island in order for her to truly understand. It was strange—he wanted her to know, but he was loathe to talk about anything that had happened. Almost like he could pretend that none of it had happened if he didn't ever talk about it.
Not that I could ever believe that he mused bitterly, staring at his pale reflection in the cup. But as much as he wanted to go to the Western Fortress, he resisted the urge. Just because the power inside hadn't had any incidents lately didn't mean that it was necessarily under control. And besides…Myrah would ask him if he had talked to Phos the next time he saw her. He knew she would. Hershel steeled himself to drink, but then he heard a familiar sound outside his tent. His eyes flew to the doorway, the sniffer whine as well as his new intuition letting him know exactly who was loitering outside. Sure enough, the door flap suddenly flew open to emit a small child bouncing with energy.
"Uncle Hershel!"
A warm feeling flooded through Hershel's system and he couldn't help but smile. "Pippa."
She ran over, her smile bright as she produced a sack full of various herbs. "I brought you some stuff I picked…"
"I can see that," he pointed out, putting the teacup down and pushing himself up from his chair. Pippa scanned his face and he cleared his throat.
"You know where those go," he pointed out, and she blinked out of her thoughts.
"Sorry," she said sheepishly before bounding off to put the various herbs away. For a moment, it took him back to all those months ago, when this would have been the norm. However, Pippa's excitement seemed to drain when she caught sight of the jar sitting on the table.
"Your special petals," she realized, and Hershel came over to see what was causing her to feel so guilty. Pippa looked up at him in shame. "I broke your other jar, Uncle Hershel. I didn't mean to…I just wanted to talk to Archtiphos and it slipped."
"It's alright, Pippa," he assured, his hands coming down on her shoulders as he gave her a soft smile. "I'm not angry."
That solved the mystery of how the jar had broken then…and he couldn't help but chuckle at the nickname she had crafted for the Ancient Oni.
"Can you still see, Uncle Hershel?" she asked, studying his face once again.
"Yes. The blindness is gone for good, Pip. You don't have to worry about that."
She didn't answer, but now she was reaching up, as if to ask him to come closer. He obliged, kneeling on the cold dirt so they could look into each other's eyes. Her small hands reached out and rested on his cheeks, just as they had back when he was blind. It was a familiar feeling, and he held still as she traced the silvery glimmers on either cheekbone.
"Your freckles are almost gone," she pointed out. "What happened to them?"
Funny she would focus on his freckles, when so much of him had changed. He gave a hint of a shrug.
"Dunno, Pip. I guess Guardian's don't need freckles."
"Guardians?"
Her question shot through him like ice water and he recoiled. It had slipped out somehow, and he regretted it immediately. Her little features scrunched up.
"What happened to you, Uncle Hershel? Why did you change?"
Hershel reached up to gently remove her hands from his face. The power thrummed within him; it liked Pippa as well. He still wasn't sure how it decided who it respected and who it didn't, but he was relieved to know that it wasn't going to be overly offended by things his niece had to say.
"The Island wanted me to be different," he found himself saying, and Pip's eyes scanned his face.
"The Island?"
He forced himself to change the subject; Pippa of all people did not need to know of the things that had occurred. He reached out to ruffle her short curls. "Your parents don't know you're here, do they?" he asked.
Her face immediately pinched with shame. "Umm…."
"They don't want you to see me," he guessed softly, and she huffed angrily.
"It's stupid. You're not dangerous…right Uncle Hershel?"
A loaded question…even though she didn't mean for it to be. He met her eyes, the power swelling inside.
"Pippa…I would never do anything that would hurt you," he promised, and the aura stirred around the two of them for a moment. Her eyes followed the wisps of pearly aura and finally turned back to smile at him.
"I know. I would never hurt you either, Uncle Hershel."
Such genuine childlike trust filled him with a kind of peace…as if Pippa's opinion could make all the tainted perceptions of him evaporate like fog in summer sunshine.
"Your parents will be worried about you," he realized, and she just gave him look of disbelief.
"It's not even dark. Why would they care where I was?"
She turned to face the herb baskets, and Hershel just shook his head. She had enjoyed such freedom for the last few years of her childhood…but he doubted that Syn and Tolan would grant her such free reign now. Even though he had assured multiple people numerous times that Imgloss was no longer a threat.
"Can I help you get these bundled? I'm good at it…"
He chuckled again.
"I know you're good at it, Pip," he pointed out. "Did you think I'd forgotten?"
"I dunno," she said honestly. Hershel hesitated, but after a moment he nodded slowly.
"I was just going to strip the bark off the willow weed. You could help, if you like."
She beamed at him again, immediately pulling out the dagger at her waist. He stood and they headed over to his stores. They pulled out the thick woody stems and began slicing long strips off.
"Have you talked to Myrah?"
Hershel looked over in surprise. Pippa's expression had darkened as she glared at the stem she was working on.
"Yes," he admitted carefully. She managed to get the strip off and huffed.
"You still love her?"
"Yes."
"I knew it." She whittled another strip off. "Does she love you now?"
He smiled softly at her question.
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She sighed dramatically.
"Alright. I guess if you love each other."
It was a grudging kind of permission, and Pippa glanced up as Hershel chuckled.
"What?" Pip demanded.
"Nothing," Hershel said, cutting another strip. "I appreciate the consent."
"Well, you don't have to do what I say," she pointed out sassily. "I'm only six. But she's less stupid than I thought…so I guess it could be ok."
"Mmm…what changed your mind?"
"I hated her, you know. When she told on you to the mean healer and he took your sight…"
"She didn't…"
"…But she was nice when I went to ask her about the Island. Plus, she tried to stop the healer when he tried to take me. She could have just let him."
Hershel felt another burst of anger towards the Ancient who had abused his loved ones so much. It faded after a moment, however; punishment had been given. There was no reason to continue to rage.
"Are you gonna have babies now?"
Hershel gave a start, and winced as he managed to cut his thumb with the knife he was slicing with. "What?"
"Cuz you're gonna be with Myrah now. Mom always said you wanted your own kids…and that's why you didn't want me to be your apprentice. Now you can have what you want, right?"
He looked down at the blood welling on the pad of his thumb, lost in thought. Pippa looked over and scrunched up her face.
"What did you do?"
"Just nicked myself," he explained softly, looking at the small wound with an irritated curiosity.
"You're supposed to cut away from yourself," she chastised, repeating a lesson that had been drilled into her own head from a young age. She also watched the blood make a small trail down his hand, her brow furrowing. "Doesn't your new magic heal you?"
He waited a few moments longer, wanting to see if the wound would heal itself as he had seen Phos's do on occasion. But the cut continued to weep blood, and he finally lit his hand with aura. As the pearly aura surrounded it, the wound sealed itself closed. The trail of blood became the only evidence that there had ever been a cut there at all.
A hand tugged his sleeve and he looked down to see Pippa holding out a rag. He gave her a small smile and accepted it, wiping the blood off his skin.
"How'd you get that healing power?" Pippa asked. "Can you teach me how to do it?"
He ruffled her hair again.
"It's not something that can be taught, I'm afraid."
She pouted and Hershel gestured to the herbs they were working on.
"But there are plenty of other things I can teach you, as far as healing is concerned," he pointed out. She sighed.
"I know. But healing magic would be really cool!"
"It is pretty cool," Hershel realized softly, going back to his work. They continued for a little while longer. Hershel's mood had improved significantly, and Pippa looked up as he chuckled again.
"You're happy again," she pointed out, and he looked down in surprise. Pip tilted her head. "You're laughing a lot."
He glanced down at the herbs they were bundling, not sure how to respond.
"I'm glad you're happy again," Pippa said sagely. "I thought you were never gonna laugh again, after the mean Healer made you blind."
Hershel still didn't say anything, but he reached out to guide her hands, helping her tie off her next bundle more efficiently.
A hoofer lowed nearby, and Hershel realized suddenly who was outside of his tent. His eyes jumped up to the door flap right as a woman pushed her way into the room. Syn's eyes met his for a moment, but then she looked away. Her gaze came to rest on the child bundling another herb bunch. Pippa didn't even notice her mother, her tongue sticking out as she concentrated on mimicking the knot Hershel had shown her.
"Syn." Hershel spoke before his sister could, and Pippa looked up in a panic, dropping the herb bundles. Syn didn't even look at Hershel as she marched over to her daughter.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, and Pippa's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Bundling herbs…"
"You were not to leave the fortress without Ret, Pippa. You knew that! And you also knew you were not to come here."
The power stirred angrily, but Hershel pushed it away as he came around the table to approach his sister. She still wouldn't even look at him, and he reached out.
"Syn, she's perfectly safe here. You know that."
Syn stiffened as Hershel's hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"I don't blame you for being angry with me, Syn…but…"
She pulled away, shooting him a defensive glance. "I'm not angry."
He shook his head. "I can sense it easily enough," he argued. "And the hurt…and…"
"Pippa, it's time to go," Syn said, turning away from him as she came over to grab her daughter's hand. "Your father would have a fit if he knew you were here."
"But it's not even dark…" Pippa argued, but Syn was already carting her towards the door. Hershel had stepped in front of the exit. He waited quietly as Syn paused, her expression flickering with an inner battle. She couldn't get out with him blocking her path, however, and she finally looked back up at him.
"We have to go, Hershel. Move."
He fixed her with a long look. "You're betrayed, Syn. I…understand that. But I never meant to hurt you…"
"I'm not having this conversation with you," she hissed, her grip on her daughter's arm tightening. "I need to get Pippa home before dark."
"I can transport you both home," he pointed out, but Syn took a step back away from him.
"No. We'll take the hoofer."
It hurt; he couldn't remember another time where she had shut him out so completely. Hershel's heart ached while his power simmered.
"Mom…I wanna stay with Uncle Hershel. We were just gonna finish bundling everything," Pippa tried, in an effort to help. Not surprisingly, her input only angered Syn more.
"You weren't supposed to come here, and you were told as much," the woman reminded, shooting her daughter an angry look. Pippa returned it with a defiant look of her own.
"That's not fair!"
Hershel tried reaching out again, but Syn flinched away the second he touched her arm.
"Please, just listen to what…"
"You made your choice, Hershel!" she snapped, turning back to him. Her eyes were filled with pain, and it hurt Hershel to see it. He wanted to know what to say…what could calm the hurt and anger that he could sense burning within his sister. However, all his power seemed to be offering were ways to make her leave and take her unhelpful attitude with her.
"Syn…"
"You chose her," Syn spat. "After everything she did to you…after everything we've done for you...you still sided with that woman."
His fists clenched at the accusation. "That's not…"
"You abandoned us…risked everything…so you could be with Myrah. Don't try to deny it," Syn continued angrily. "You chose the woman who crippled you over your own family without a second thought."
"I chose myself!" Hershel argued back, his voice gaining strength. "Why is that so hard for you and Tolan to understand? This wasn't about any of you…or Myrah. This was about being free for the first time in my life!"
Her expression didn't change as she stared at him, and after a moment she spoke again. "Move, Hershel."
His eyes blazed at the cold order. How dare she tell him what to do? To treat him in this way? Didn't she realize how much he had been forced to sacrifice over the years? How dare she judge him for doing something for himself for once in his life…
"Uncle Hershel?" Pippa's voice came out timidly, and he glanced down at her. She was looking up at him with concern…and he realized how angry he must have looked. Shame rushed in as quickly as the rage had, and the light in his eyes faded. He sighed and glanced back at Syn. She was looking at him with a stony expression, but he could sense how she truly felt.
His heart lurched as he realized that she was afraid of him. Hershel finally looked away, stepping to the side so they could pass. Syn visibly relaxed, but Hershel reached out and caught her arm as she passed.
"Syn…I would never hurt you. Or Pippa. Please, don't keep her from me. She's the whole reason I was able to escape from the Island."
She looked at him then, scanning his face at his whispered words. But after a moment, her own expression hardened again.
"I don't think it's safe for anyone to be around you anymore," she finally responded. With that, she pulled out of his grasp. It was a blow, and Hershel found he couldn't move as Syn left the tent, dragging a reluctant Pippa behind her.
"I'm sorry…" the child managed before she disappeared from view. Hershel stood in silence long after he could hear the hoofer heading back to the central fortress.
188
The candlelight flickered from the katana's surface as Tolan polished it. The constant sound of stone on metal always had a way of bringing himself into focus. A warrior was only as good as their weapon, after all.
After a few more runs, he checked the blade. Sharp…ridiculously sharp. His eyes flicked across the pattern expertly crafted into the metal itself. And there, right near the hilt, the pattern swirled into a hidden insignia. He rubbed the symbol with one thumb. He had carved such an insignia in many blades—no doubt he could do it still. It was a skill drilled into the heads of everyone at the village, after all. It was never meant to be something that could be forgotten.
He stared at his reflection in the blade; he might as well have been carved from steel himself. But as his eyes flicked across the katana, he couldn't help but remember how he had gotten the pair of blades to begin with. The memory pushed its way unbidden into his mind.
Tolan!
Hershel had pushed his way into the tent. Tolan had been nearby, rifling through Hershel's healing crystals. He remembered turning to face the Healer as he came in.
There you are. I was beginning to worry that Western Leader had locked you up for looking at her funny…
Mmm…is that why you were already helping yourself to my things?
Hershel had stood there with two blades in sheathes, and Tolan had raised his eyebrows at the sight.
What do you have there?
You'd know better than I would.
Hershel had brought them over and handed them to the guard, who accepted them with a deadpan expression. But he couldn't hide his surprise as he pulled one of the weapons from its sheath.
Where did you get these?
I figured that katanas would be easier for you to use than Phos's old broadsword. Though you are always boasting about being able to fight with any weapon, it's obvious you have your favorite kind.
Tolan had scoffed.
That pretentious leader gave these to you?
For a price.
Tolan had run a hand along the blade, lost in thought for a moment.
It better not be my gratitude; these shouldn't have been at the Western Fortress anyways. Warrack was a dirty thief for taking them.
Hershel had just smiled, shaking his head in that patronizing way of his.
Don't worry. Even Myrah knows better than to ask you for gratitude.
The memory faded, and Tolan lifted the blade, giving it a test swipe. Still perfectly balanced…but no one could expect anything less from his village at any rate. He sheathed it with hardly a sound, and grimaced at the melancholy feeling that settled over him. He didn't have to spend too much time moping, however, because the door to their fortress room opened to emit a very angry Pippa. Tolan stood as she marched over to her bed mat. A moment later Syn came into the room, looking worn out.
"Where were you?" Tolan demanded, fixing his daughter with a stern look. She responded with a similar expression, folding her arms angrily. When she didn't answer he looked back at Syn.
"Where'd you find her?"
Syn sighed.
"It doesn't matter…"
"I was at Uncle Hershel's," Pippa cut in stubbornly, glaring at her father's. "Helping him. And it wasn't even dark yet."
Tolan's eyes flashed as he turned back to glare at her, but she merely scrunched up her face with resolve. Despite the guard's intense look, his voice came out very soft.
"I told you, you can't go see Hershel anymore."
"Why?!" Pippa demanded. "That's not fair!"
"Because he's dangerous now, Pip. The Island changed him, and he can't control it."
"He can so! His eyes just flash sometimes. But so do yours! So do mine!"
Tolan stared at her, his hands on his hips.
"I don't tell you things so that you can go and ignore them, Pippa. If I say that you can't see Hershel anymore, then that's what I mean. Your mother and I had better not find you there again."
"That's stupid."
He narrowed his eyes and went to say something else, but then Syn passed him with a hand on her eyes as if warding off a headache.
"Tol, please. Not tonight."
He took in his wife's expression for the first time.
"You ok?"
"Fine." She sighed as she lowered herself to the bed. "I think we all could just use a good night's sleep."
He came over, scanning her quickly. His voice was low in an attempt to keep out of Pippa's hearing range.
"Did he hurt you?"
Syn looked up at him in shock.
"No. He…no. Of course not."
She shuddered a little, cradling her head in her hands.
"He's just not the same. I don't know what to do about it."
Tolan frowned, but then he heard footsteps heading to the door. He whirled around.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, and Pippa glared back.
"The bathroom," she spat back in her angry six-year-old way. "And you're being so mean to Uncle Hershel!"
"He tell you that?" Tolan asked, bristling. Pippa shook her head.
"He didn't have to. He still liked you after you got new powers. But now that he has new powers, you won't even let me see him!"
"That's enough!" Tolan was raising his voice. "Don't talk back, Fluff. When you're older, you'll understand…"
"No I won't!" she argued. "I never ever ever will!"
She slammed the door shut behind her with all her childish might, and Tolan stiffened. He felt a warm hand on his arm and glanced down at Syn's pinched expression.
"She and Hershel have always been close," she reminded softly. "This isn't going to be an easy adjustment for her."
"You understand why it has be like this…right?"
Syn glanced away with a sigh. "Yes. I agree that he's not…" she trailed off and then shrugged. "He's not Hershel anymore." She buried her face into her hands, and when she spoke her voice sounded strained. "I just don't know what to do!"
"There's nothing we can do," Tolan tried, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We did everything we could. We warned him about Myrah…we supported him in his blindness. We didn't leave him on his own, we didn't abandon him. He abandoned us…"
"It's just so unlike him," Syn whispered. "Tol, he's never left before. He's never done anything like this." She hugged herself, not meeting his eye as her eyes swam with tears. "I have always known that I could rely on him. I never had to wonder if he was going to be there for me; he just was. Always. But then…when we needed him the most…"
She didn't finish, but she didn't need to. Syn began to cry, and aura winds stirred the room as Tolan watched, feeling helpless. He looked around at the stone walls as his aura tugged at tapestries and rustled scrolls sitting on the nightstand.
"I think it's time for a change of scenery, Syn." He finally murmured, sitting down on the bed next to her. "If Imgloss really is taken care of, then we don't need to live here in the fortress any longer."
She wiped at her face.
"So, go back to our tent?"
"Yeah. But not in the central province. I was thinking it was time to move again."
Syn bit her lip, thinking it over.
"You mean…leave him behind?"
"He's got to sort stuff out. It'll be easier to keep Pip away if we aren't so close, anyways."
Syn's expression twisted as she thought about it, and Tolan thought she would say no. But after a moment, she sighed.
"Where were you thinking?"
He smiled a little, leaning forward in thought. "Not the west," he decided. "I was thinking the north. The south is nice this time of year, but I'm still not sure Ottan has forgiven me for when I used to live down there."
"The north," Syn mused quietly.
"There's plenty of new places for Pip to explore too," Tolan pointed out. "She's never really been up north. And with all those blacksmiths, I wouldn't mind trying my hand at weaponry again. Things are a little too…tense with the Freak right now at any rate." His hand drifted to his katana hilt. "Might teach Fluff a few things too. Maybe change her mind about becoming a Healer. Show her that there are other options."
Syn was quiet, and Tolan reached out to massage her neck.
"What do you think?" he prompted quietly. She still didn't say anything right away, but she finally sighed and tried to give him a small smile.
"Maybe a change of scenery is what we need. But let's wait to tell Pippa until we have everything figured out."
Tolan relaxed, grateful that his wife was on his side of things.
"Alright."
I tried to warn you.
Hershel opened his eyes, and immediately fear filled his heart. He bolted upright, the stars in the cold walls and floors winking back at him.
"No…"
Dust was swirling around him, and he immediately lit his hands with aura. His heart was racing; it was impossible. He shouldn't be back here!
Hershel…
"I release myself from this place!" he yelled, his eyes blazing as he stood at the ready. But nothing happened apart from the dry laughter echoing around him. He knew it was the Island, but he couldn't tell who's voice it was using to speak with him. There was something so familiar about it…but so foreign at the same time.
You cannot be released. You are not physically here…yet.
A dream. The realization flooded him with relief for a moment, but at the same time he trembled. The Island couldn't physically harm him if it was a dream…but he didn't know how it had made the connection in the first place. Or how he would escape.
Insecurity is fertile soil for nightmares, my dear Chosen
Hershel's eyes blazed as he stood there, ready for anything. But it seemed the Island was not bent on attacking him. After a minute of silence—during which Hershel tried in vain to wake himself up—he finally spoke guardedly.
"What do you want?"
You know what I want.
Dark walls exploded up around him, and he could see himself in the many surfaces. He looked different with his eyes and hands blazing—his expression a mask of fury. He wanted to flee, but he held his ground. The Island couldn't hurt him…he just needed to wake up.
Suddenly the reflections of himself broke free of their task echoing his movements. They began moving…running around him. Confusing him. Hershel grimaced and closed his eyes as they started converging on each other.
Hershel
He meant to keep his eyes closed, but the command in the voice caused him to open them cautiously. His own reflection was staring back at him…but its expression was haughty and calculating as it stared out of the black glass.
You belong here…
When his reflection spoke, Hershel realized in horror who's voice it was the Island was using. It was his…but deeper. Colder. He stumbled backwards, glaring at the fake image.
"Dont..." he started, but his reflection merely sneered.
You have stolen my Guardian from me…how else was I to speak with you? You have left me little choice. But it seems only fitting for you to be my voice now…for that will be your role soon enough.
"I know this is a dream; you have no power over me," Hershel spat. His reflection flickered, but then it was smiling.
I tried to warn you what would happen if you returned to the living realm
The Island's tone was suddenly softer, coaxing. Hershel saw through the guise, but the counterfeit feelings were washing over him now. Acceptance, understanding. He grimaced as he pushed them away.
"Enough."
Did I not say they would not recognize you? That they would shun you…
Hershel was trembling now, willing himself not to let his guard down. But already the memories were there, pressing on his mind.
You're not my Uncle Hershel!
Who are you…really?
I don't think anyone is safe around you anymore…
"Stop!" Hershel demanded, his eyes blazing stronger. The power inside of him was itching to be released, but he didn't know how to do it in a way that would defeat a mere nightmare.
They have turned their backs on you. You have become nothing to them…as I warned. But here you would never be mistreated and abandoned. Here, I understand you…
The reflection was reaching out, but though it remained in the confines of the black stone, Hershel backed away.
"Lies," he pointed out angrily. The reflection just shook its head, eyes full of pity.
You are not who you were…and they will never forgive you for that.
"They will," Hershel argued, but his voice was shaking. "It will just take time…"
Even now they plan to leave you.
Hershel's brow furrowed in disbelief, but suddenly the scene changed. Light flooded the area, and suddenly he could see Syn and Tolan so vividly.
"…I was thinking it was time to move provinces again."
It hit Hershel hard, and aura began to swirl around him as he watched in frozen horror. Syn's face tightened.
"You mean…leave him behind?"
"Syn…" Hershel murmured, but Tolan was speaking again now.
"He's got to sort stuff out. It'll be easier to keep Pip away if we aren't so close anyways."
It couldn't be real…it was just the Island manipulating him again. But it seemed so real…and what was more, he could sense the emotions from the vision. He knew how conflicted Syn was…but he also felt her resolve with her next words.
"Where were you thinking?"
Hershel's eyes blazed. He yelled as he finally unleashed his power. It consumed the scene, and moments later he was panting in the cold darkness of the Island's black halls once again.
You know it was a true vision. A gift that comes with the power now inside of you.
"This power was no gift," Hershel murmured. His throat was tight, tears filling his eyes. He wanted to believe that it was all a lie, but the power inside was grudgingly agreeing with the Island.
No…perhaps not.
The reflection's eyes grew hard.
It was not gifted as much as stolen.
"I didn't want it!" Hershel hissed back. "You changed me…you took my power. You destroyed who I used to be…"
I am the only one who has ever understood you!
His reflection yelled at him now, its warped voice deepening further with the voice of the Island.
These others who you deem worthy of your affection have never cared about you. They preferred it when you were crippled; if they had their way, you would still be blind in your black solitude, forever locked away in your tent…
"You're wrong," Hershel countered, but the tears were escaping now. His reflection merely laughed.
You know they do not care about you. They have only ever cared about what you could offer them. Your protection, your teaching…your servitude. They preferred you broken and bound, thinking you offered more to them in that state than freed and empowered. And now that you are, they refuse to recognize you.
Hershel begged his mind to wake up…to release him from this awful nightmare. He didn't know if it was truly the Island or not, but the words cut deep into his soul. His shoulders shook as he pressed his hands to his head. He longed to argue differently—to prove his reflection wrong—but all he could think about was the distrust in Tolan's visit. The fear in Syn's eyes.
His mind clung to the small fragments of hope he had left. Pippa's visit. Myrah…
They are no different from the rest!
The reflection mocked him, and he shut his eyes in an effort to block it out. But the voice reverberated in his mind. It was his voice, after all…and he could not escape it.
Your niece has no choice but to leave you behind…and her parents will warp her sense of you. It won't be long before they have her believing you are a monster. As for the Leader…
"Stop!" Hershel demanded, not wanting to know what the Island had to say about Myrah. But its voice was heavy with pity, which was worse than when it had been patronizing.
You know what she wants…and you know it is something you cannot give her. How long before her patience runs out? For she, like the others, merely wishes to use you. When you don't give her what she desires, she will leave you as well.
Hershel had sunk to his knees, his hands still clasped over his ears as he wept.
"NO!"
And then you will be utterly alone. Is that the future you wish for yourself? Abandoned by those who refused to accept your true form? They only cared about what they could take from you…what they could force you to be. And when you refused to live that way any longer, they rejected you completely.
"Wake up…" Hershel begged himself through clenched teeth. The dust of the Island was swirling around him again, comfort pressing into him.
I alone understand you…accept you for who you are. I alone have witnessed each of your memories and wish for you to be free…
"You wish to enslave me!" Hershel responded, his eyes still tightly closed, longing to wake from his nightmare at last.
I wish to release you from all bonds. Then you shall never be alone. You are my Chosen…and my only wish is for you to become part of me. Forever.
Tendrils were wrapping around his arms and legs now, and Hershel thrashed desperately as his eyes flew open.
Do not fight it. I will not be denied. Be it months or years, I will have you back with me. And you will not escape again.
Hershel's eyes and fists blazed, the power erupting around him and tearing through the Island's ensnarement.
"I will never join you," he hissed, and his reflection merely shook its head.
I am patient. Someday, it will become too much. The isolation, the betrayal, the rejection. Then you will return to me. And if you will not…
The reflection's face went slack as its eyes suddenly blazed with brilliant light.
Then I will come for you.
Hershel gasped awake, drenched in a cold sweat. He bolted upright, the fear and the dream still clinging to him as he panted and shook. A moment passed…and then another. He pushed himself to his feet, walking into the front of the tent in an effort to shake the dream. But then the scenes he had just witnessed flicked through his mind. His legs suddenly felt weak, his emotions threatening to drown him. He reached his chair and grabbed onto the arm of it like a lifeline. He stood there, shaking. He found himself staring down at the chair that he had spent so many years of his life sitting in, waiting. The chair that he seemed doomed to spending many more years…alone.
They never cared about you…they only ever cared about what you could offer them.
Hershel closed his eyes and wept. His sobs echoed into the night, but there was no one around to hear them.
189
Myrah dismounted. She hadn't been to this tent in a while, she realized. She hesitated only a moment before tying her mount to the Hoofer pole.
The tent's smells washed over her as she entered; dust and herbs all mixing together. She realized that Hershel was sitting in his chair, but he seemed to be fast asleep. Her brow furrowed. It was nearly midday…did he sleep there last night? Or was he taking an early afternoon nap? She thought about waking him, but he looked haggard and she decided against it. He probably needed his sleep.
She got to work putting a kettle on to boil and looked around for something to make for mid-meal. It took longer than she expected; what did Hershel eat? She finally tracked down some old tubers and scowled at the little roots that had already sprouted. He was going to have to refill his pantry.
Hershel finally stirred a little while later, the smell of a simple tuber soup filling the tent. It was nothing extraordinary, but she never cooked at the fortress. It was all she could really remember making and eating during her life before that.
The Healer in the chair blinked awake, and she saw him frown at the kettle bubbling on the fireplace. He finally turned around at the sound of her chopping herbs.
"Myrah?"
She glanced up to give him a smile. Hershel grimaced as he stretched. Perhaps he really had spent the night in that chair, she mused.
"What are you doing here?"
"Making sure you don't starve."
"Oh." He turned to look back at pot. "What are you making?"
"Soup. What did you have for breakfast? Or did you just wake up?"
Hershel pushed himself to his feet. "I'm not hungry."
"Not the question," Myrah pointed out. She finished chopping and wiped her hand off on a nearby cloth before coming over to stand next to him. She studied him closely; he wasn't maintaining eye contact. Not a good sign.
"I had a meeting with Theodynn this morning," she mentioned, and Hershel glanced at her.
"Oh?"
"Trying to get a school up and running in the West. Been a work in progress for a little while now."
"Mmm." He moved away to go see what she had been chopping.
"We talked about you," Myrah continued carefully.
"Did you?" His tone was interested, but his body language was guarded as he leaned heavily on the table. She frowned as she came over and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?"
He glanced back at her and tried to smile.
"I didn't sleep well," he finally admitted, and she shook her head.
"I wouldn't expect you to, sleeping upright in a chair like that. How did your errands go yesterday?"
"Fine."
"Hey." She leaned on the table as well, so her eyes would be level with him. "Don't shut me out."
His expression became conflicted and she reached out to put her hand on his.
"Hershel…"
"I can't…give you what you want. At least, not anytime soon."
It took her by surprise. He wouldn't look at her again; if anything, Hershel seemed ashamed. He also seemed to be steeling himself for her answer. Myrah's normally hard expression softened.
"You foolish man," she chided softly. "You didn't think I expected you to adjust overnight, did you? Or even to be in total control after only a week or two?"
"I don't know how long it will take. It doesn't feel fair to make you wait."
"I'm not waiting," she said, squeezing his hand. "Hershel…this is enough. Us being together like this. So as long as you don't shut me out, we're going to be just fine."
He looked at her then. His eyes were so haunted, and she wished that he would tell her why. After a moment he relaxed, sighing with relief.
"Thank you."
She wasn't sure what he was thanking her for, so she just squeezed his hand again.
"Did you talk to Archtivus?" she finally asked. "Is that what this is all about?"
Hershel was fingering the herbs that she had chopped, testing one between two fingers.
"No," he finally admitted. "I tried…I just…"
He shrugged.
"I couldn't do it."
Myrah didn't know what to say. He was obviously suffering, but she didn't know why…and she had no idea how to help him.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
He looked over at her offer, and Myrah gave him a ghost of a smile.
"I could help keep him in line…"
"It's not possible," he cut in softly. "I wish it was, but the tea only works for someone with power."
"Ahhh…" Myrah said, trying to keep her tone light. "A special tea. I suppose that is more in your area of expertise."
He smiled, but it still didn't reach his eyes. She was at a loss for what to do; she felt like talking to his old Master would help him, but it was clear that he was spooked to take such a course of action. She moved to wrap her arms around him from the back. He reached up to grab one of her hands as she spoke softly.
"Pity I can't come with you. I would have liked to meet Archtivus, see if he holds true to the portrait that history has painted of him."
Hershel didn't answer, and she rested her head on his back.
"What do you think he would have thought of me?"
Here, she felt him chuckle a little.
"Hmm…" Hershel mused quietly. "I suppose at first he would have acted like he hated you, on principle. But eventually your wit and stubborn nature would have won him over. He'd never admit it, of course. But his insults would be a little less barbed…and he'd offer you tea."
"No wonder you're worried about seeing him again," she murmured. His hand gently squeezed hers.
"If it was only that, I wouldn't hesitate."
"Then why are you hesitating?"
Hershel was silent, and Myrah wasn't sure that he would tell her. Maybe she shouldn't have asked. He clearly didn't want to be pressured into anything.
"I can't lose him too."
She blinked; it was not the answer she had expected. Not that she had really expected anything.
"What do you…"
"They're leaving." Hershel's voice was heavy with grief, and Myrah frowned.
"Who?"
Hershel finally turned to her, meeting her eye. "Syn and Tolan. They're moving North, and taking Pippa. To…get away from me."
Myrah stared at him. "That doesn't make any sense…" she finally tried, but he just shook his head.
"I left them. Abandoned them to Imgloss's whims. And I changed." His face contorted. "I'm not sure they're going to forgive me for it."
"That's ridiculous." Myrah felt a shot of anger. She remembered what Hershel had already told her about Tolan's reaction, and the injustice of it made her blood burn. "When you left, they nearly went crazy looking for you. They certainly yelled at me enough to make it clear they cared. And now that you're here…they're turning their backs on you. It's sick."
"They're hurt." It came out simply, but she didn't miss his eyes flashing.
"That doesn't give them permission to treat you this way," Myrah muttered angrily. He didn't answer, his eyes flicking over her again.
"You've been wearing your hair down lately," he realized.
Myrah's hand went to her hair self-consciously. "I…well." She wasn't sure how to respond, and Hershel ran a hand through her hair.
"I like it."
It filled her with a rush of pleasure, and Myrah flushed fiercely.
"I…like it too," she admitted. He smiled, but then his eyes were drifting over to the pot on the fireplace.
"I think that's starting to burn…"
"Oh."
She turned quickly, heading over to the soup. She managed to salvage two bowls, and she handed one to Hershel with a sheepish expression.
"It may be blander than what you're used to. It's been a while since I've made it."
"You cook at the fortress?" he asked, eyebrow raised. She shook her head.
"No. I haven't cooked since I left my home village."
He came over and took a seat on one of the chairs by the fireplace, gesturing for her to take the other one. "When did you leave?"
She paused, her eyes flicking down to her soup. She didn't often talk about her past; no point in thinking about it. But how was she to expect him to open up about everything that had happened to him if she kept everything so close to her vest? "I was a child when Warrack came and collected me and a few others. I lived with a group of other children in one of the villages. I took turns cooking with the others, as well as other chores."
"And your parents?"
Here she shrugged. "Never knew them."
"Oh. They died?"
"I don't know. I lived in that group under a Master and Mistress for as long as I can remember. Not sure if we were orphans or taken. They would figure out what our skills were, and when Warrack would come to make his collections, they would let him know what we were best suited for."
Concern flickered across Hershel's face, and Myrah couldn't help but smile.
"It wasn't a bad life. It was my ambition that set me apart…I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to become an advisor. I didn't have many worries until Warrack died and the Western Government crumbled."
He nodded and sipped his soup.
"Not the worst I've ever had," he teased softly. She rolled her eyes.
"I warned you it would be bland…"
"But it's not dissolving the cutlery," he pointed out.
Myrah frowned. "What have you ever eaten that…"
"Cole tried to cook for us once," Hershel explained. "I suppose Ninjagoan dishes must be different. But everything was basically inedible."
Myrah couldn't help but smile a little at the thought. She was feeling confident, seeing Hershel relaxing again, and she leaned forward before he could disappear back into himself.
"Tell me something…something you haven't told anyone else."
"You mean…what happened to me on the Island?"
The guardedness was back, and she shook her head as she reached out to put a hand on his knee.
"Doesn't have to be. I still want to know your secrets, Master Hershel…but you could start with something small."
"Hmm…"
She was happy to see that he was at least considering it. He finished his soup, setting the bowl aside. She had finished hers as well, and she moved her chair closer so she could grab both his hands.
"Well?" she coaxed, and he sighed.
"Something I've never told anyone else?" he repeated, glancing up at her. She nodded, studying his face.
"I want to know the real Hershel," she reminded, and he entwined his fingers with hers.
"It may seem strange to you…foolish," he warned, and she shook her head.
"Of course not."
"It's something I'd forgotten about completely, until recently," he started, and she waited silently as he continued. "When I was young…very young. Before Syn and I were ever sold…I used to have this stupid thought."
She rubbed his hand to coax him on.
"I never knew my birth father," he explained, his voice dropping to a murmur. "All I had was my mother and Syn's father, who seemed to get their enjoyment from terrifying and beating us. I had Syn too, of course. But she was just a tiny thing, and she didn't love me as much as she needed me. But at night, I used to pretend…"
He trailed off, and Myrah frowned.
"Pretend what?"
Hershel seemed to be debating whether he really wanted to confess his secret after all.
"That…my birth father wasn't dead. That he cared about me and that he'd come back and take Syn and I far away from that horrible place."
He looked away, sighing.
"I knew he was dead. And I knew from an early age how affection was frowned upon; it shouldn't be something that I longed for, and my birth father had most likely had paid me as little heed as everyone else in my life before he died. I was beaten enough times for my tears to know that weakness had to be hidden. So, I never told anyone. Eventually, I gave up believing anyone cared about me and…forgot about it completely."
He wasn't meeting her eye again, and Myrah realized that she technically fell into the category of Oni who believed affection to be a flaw. Or at least, used to…he had to know that she didn't think so anymore.
"You longed for affection…to be wanted," Myrah mused. She tried to think if she ever wanted someone to love her. Even as a small child, she couldn't remember ever trying to win anyone's affection. Their respect, sure. But she honestly couldn't ever remember feeling like Hershel had just described. Myrah reached out to put a hand on his face, willing him to look back at her.
"Don't be ashamed for that," she chastised softly. "Perhaps that's why you were able to unlock your powers."
He scoffed softly. "I unlocked my powers when an assassin nearly murdered my sister."
She stared in shock, and he must have sensed it because he squeezed her hand.
"It was after Keyda began to Rule. She chose Syn and I as her personals…I think to protect us. At the time I was just terrified at messing it up and landing us both back where she had pulled us from. Keyda became sick…and Warrack sent assassins to finish her off while she was weak. Syn's the one who opened the door."
Myrah had no idea what to say, so she stayed silent as Hershel continued his soft story.
"I still don't know how Phos saved her from that wound. I just remember there being so much blood, and she was so weak and frail…"
His eyes flashed and he released her hand so he could press his against his temple.
"Cole managed to get her to Phos, and Keyda stayed with me. It felt like everything was slipping through the cracks…every hope that I had allowed to build up. Syn was the only thing I had…the only person who had ever cared about me. And I was certain that I had lost her.
"Cole smuggled me to Phos's as well, and the grouchy Ancient took us in so people couldn't target me for my powers and so Syn could fully heal. Made us call him Master Healer, and referred to us as slaves. But eventually that changed…and though he struggled to ever say as much, we knew that he cared about us."
"I see." It was all she could think to say, and Hershel sighed.
"To think the fear of losing Syn was what unlocked my powers in the first place…but in order to get them unleashed a second time, I've had to lose her forever."
"Not forever," Myrah argued softly. "She'll come around eventually. If you're right, and she's just hurting…then she'll come around."
"How do you know?"
He looked up at her and the Western Leader smiled. "Because you came around after I hurt you. And that gives me hope. She can't be that different from you, after all."
He didn't look like he completely believed her, but he grabbed her hand again. "Thank you, Myrah. For coming. I thought I would be alright, being alone here. But…"
"You've spent enough years alone," she argued softly. "I know you don't want to come to the Western Fortress…but that doesn't mean you should be stuck here in the middle of nowhere by yourself. Especially if your family…" She trailed off, but the point seemed to hit home.
"What are you saying?"
"Move your tent…your practice…to the West. Unless there's something in this place you want to be close to."
He was quiet, but he seemed to be thinking about it.
"Don't answer now," she offered. She moved so that she was sitting on the arm of his chair, wrapping her arms around him from the side. "It would just be nice having you closer. Even if…well."
"I'll think about it," he promised, and she smiled.
"Would it be easier to talk with…Phos…" She tried out the nickname Hershel seemed fond of using, "…if I promised to be right here through the whole thing?"
His expression was so hard to read, and she leaned in to kiss the side of his face.
"I'll be right here when you get back…or…however it is you talk to him."
"And if he rejects me as well?"
Myrah had to strain to even hear him, and she fingered his pale hair comfortingly.
"Then he's just as foolish and blind as the history scrolls make him sound," she offered. "But Hershel…no matter what happens, you will always have me."
He turned to look at her now, the glow of his eyes scanning her face. She didn't realize that he was afraid of losing her until that moment…but her words had seemed to reached some hurting part of him. Before she could say anything else, he leaned forward and kissed her. Myrah closed her eyes, kissing him back. Eventually she pulled away, giving him a long look.
"What do you say?" she asked, and he sighed. Hershel's thumb traced her cheekbone as he finally relented.
"Alright. I'll talk to him."
27
