Robin wasn't sure what he was doing. He shouldn't have split off from the rest of the group, but he wanted to be alone. Right now, he didn't really care what happened to him. He squeezed the grip of his sword once, and ran a hand along a wall as he walked through the winding corridors of the abandoned Wizard's Council castle. His fingers made trails in the dust.
Slowly, he made his way into a large banquet hall. Long tables were set up in the center, old silverware and plates covered in cobwebs absolutely littered them. Long tapestries of days long gone hung from a banister on the opposite wall of the room. They were moth eaten and falling apart, but Robin could tell that they were once beautiful works of art. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. He should tell the others what he found. This would be a good place to investigate…
He lifted a hand to his helmet, ready to push the button that would reconnect him to everyone else's lines. His hand was shaking though.
Why should he call them? They were just fine without him, weren't they? Robin grit his teeth and ripped his helmet off of his head, tossing it to the side. It clanked loudly against one of the table legs.
If they wanted to find him, they'd just have to come looking themselves. He ran a hand through his hair and made a small choked noise.
Why was he so hung up over Fletcher joining the team? Why did he care so much about him being Clay's brother? He knew that just because Clay had an actual brother now that it didn't mean that he wasn't needed. Yet knowing that didn't take the sting out of watching them train together, talk together, watching Clay protect Fletch. It didn't make it not hurt. Robin pulled a chair out from the table and dropped into it, holding his head in his hands.
It didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't stop thoughts of 'he doesn't want you anymore' from running through his head. It didn't make him feel any less like a used up and unwanted weapon. Tears made puddles in the dust covering the ground, but Robin didn't care. Nothing would make any of this hurt go away. A sob broke through his throat.
"Why are you crying in our dining room, boy?"
Robin's head shot up, hand moving to wipe his eyes of tears. In front of him were four forms, each one shining a near translucent blue color. These were the ghosts of the Wizard's Council that they had been looking for. Robin opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off. One of the wizards held up his hand.
"Wait. We can figure it out ourselves, Robin Underwood."
"How did you-"
"We've been listening to everything your group has been doing since you've walked in." Another wizard replied. He twirled his staff absently in his hands, looking almost bored with the conversation. "I feel it worth mentioning that your so called brother figure worried about your whereabouts for about 5 seconds before returning to his other tasks."
Robin felt his throat tighten. Before he had a chance to reply, the first wizard spoke again.
"You feel jealous of Fletcher Bowman. You wish that you were the one who was blood related to Clay Moorington. It's a dangerous sort of jealousy, you should know."
"I-I'm not jealous!" Robin stood up, hand moving to the hilt of his blade. Tears had started to prickle in the corners of his vision again. "I'm not! I just… I just want Clay to notice how much everything he's doing affects me."
A sort of chuckle passed through the wizards. Robin looked down at the ground.
"Where have we heard this one before?" One of the said, leaning against his staff, "A talented child outshone by their sibling who festers with barely concealed envy?"
Another wizard replied, "Yes, you're right. I do think we've heard this one before."
Robin glared at the four, only to be met with more light chuckling. He clenched his fists.
"As soon as you're all done making fun of me-"
"Oh, we're not making fun of you." One of them replied, cutting Robin off, "We're just thinking about how funny it is that you and your mother have the same flaws."
Robin felt his heart skip a beat.
"My mom? What do you know about my mom?"
"Ah, now we have his attention."
The wizards all took a step forward, and one of them reached out and cupped Robin's head in their hand. It was cold, like ice. Robin shivered.
"Dove, such a talented young girl. She could pilot a plane like nobody else. So special, really." The wizard paused, releasing Robin's head, "Before her sister became the best prophet the world has ever seen. Such a tragedy, to see Dove like the moon become outshone by a sun."
"Good thing that your aunt died before Dove's jealousy grew any worse than it already was."
Robin inched a couple of steps back and swallowed down a thick lump in his throat. He backed up into something as cold as ice, and whipped around to face two more ghosts. This was bad. He needed to-
"You're just like your mother, boy. But we can change that. We can make sure that you won't be outshone."
A collective of hands reached out towards Robin. He tried to scream, but no noise came out of his mouth. Everything was so cold, it was like his body had stopped working.
"Let us help you."