17. The Enclave

seventeen

Over the next few days, Adrian settled into his tenuous place at the Enclave. They'd been given their own furnished hut to sleep in, replete with woven rugs to disguise the cracked stone. Everything appeared handcrafted. While the occasional daemon milled about, they spent their time begging aether handouts from passing villagers rather than performing manual labor.

Seeing daemons roaming the streets without a specific task to complete bolstered Adrian's vision for a brighter, more peaceful future. He set Ghosttear loose with the other wild daemons, and though he checked in on it when he could, it ignored him as readily as everything else, spending its days dozing in the sun.

For now, the pitiable creature was yet another problem he didn't have time to solve—not with Elana's deadline hanging over their heads. His initial hope that seeing Seymour and him interacting with their daemons would allay the villagers' fears proved woefully misplaced.

"Almost makes me want to send Shadowlash on a murderous rampage," Seymour said after yet another family abruptly turned down a side street to avoid them.

Adrian only rolled his eyes, though he shared the watcher's growing frustration. How were they supposed to prove their good intentions when no one would give them a chance?

He tried not to let their rejection get to him. While Leda and her ilk never missed an opportunity to fix him with a scathing glare, most of the other villagers simply seemed wary.

The only person in the entire Enclave who actually wanted to spend time with them was Freya. Since the town meeting, she'd spent every free moment badgering them with questions.

What was Hillvale like?

What did you two used to do?

How did you become friends?

That last one led to Adrian blushing through a particularly awkward conversation, though Freya lapped up every morsel she could about the world beyond the Enclave. She'd been particularly intrigued by the true bond, frowning thoughtfully after he explained the different types of melds. He could almost see the gears turning in her head.

"So, this reverse Surge combines your aether with your daemon's into a shared reserve?"

Thinking back to the first—and so far, only—time he'd managed a reverse Surge during his fight with Kali, he shrugged. "Something like that. It's mainly about a daemon lending their technique, but I guess to do that, you also need access to one another's aether."

"Could you maintain that state indefinitely?" Freya asked. "Seems to me that would be a lot easier than hopping in and out of it. Plus, more aether for everyone involved."

Adrian blinked, considering. "Maybe. But, even if it was possible, I'm not sure I'd want to."

"Why not?"

"Independence, for one." He glanced to where Heartrender and Lockrod played tug-of-war with an Unbendable Rod, a soft smile gracing his lips. "One of the greatest benefits of the true bond is that your daemon can think for itself. A reverse Surge might hamper that freedom."

Freya nodded sagely as if she hadn't learned the reverse Surge existed only minutes earlier.

"Then, there's the other melds," he continued. "It'd be hard, maybe even impossible, to pull off a Fusion or Enhancement in that state without overtaxing your aether."

Freya nibbled on her bottom lip. "Have you tried it?"

He hesitated. "Well…no. But—"

"Then, how do you know?" she pressed.

The way she said it, her voice laced with triumph, made him chuckle. "I suppose I don't. Further experimentation might be in order."

His smile faded. Someday, when he didn't already have so much on his plate. Still, he made a mental note to continue practicing the reverse Surge. Now that he'd managed it once, he was pretty sure he could do it again. Nevertheless, it seemed prudent to ensure he could perform the feat on demand. Kali might be gone, but that didn't mean others wouldn't follow in her stead.

Far too soon, the first of the four weeks Elana had given them drew to a close, with naught but Freya's (mostly) pleasant company to show for it.

"We could always leave," Seymour declared after they'd retired to their cabin for the night.

Adrian had worried at first about sharing so little space, but so far, it hadn't been an issue. If anything, he found it reminded him of the sleepovers they'd once had as kids. Though back then, the sight of his friend's bare chest hadn't left him quite so flustered.

Seymour's leg brushed against Adrian's as he shifted at the table, sending a slight tingle rippling down Adrian's skin. "We gave it our best shot," Seymour continued. "But these people have no interest in what we have to say. The longer we stay here, the more we put ourselves and them at risk."

Adrian covertly moved his leg away. "Elana promised she'd consider our claims."

"Oh?" A bit of the old sneer crept into the watcher's voice. "Then, where has she been? From where I sit, she seems to be avoiding us, same as the rest of them."

Seymour had a point. For all her generosity in allowing them to stay, they'd hardly seen the Enclave's leader this past week. Given how small the village was, that couldn't be a coincidence.

"Maybe she's been busy," Adrian suggested half-heartedly.

"Sure, she is," Seymour muttered. "Busy pandering to everyone else's paranoia. Honestly, you'd think we're lepers the way they avoid us. Infected by the blight of daemon bonding."

"Let's give it one more week," Adrian insisted. "If nothing's changed by then, we'll call it a wash and decide on a new plan."

"Like retreating even deeper into the forest?"

That had been the watcher's vote all along. Whenever Adrian considered the possibility, however, a pit gnawed at his gut.

"We can't run forever, Seymour. Kali was the first to come for us, but she won't be the last. Her unseen partner is still out there, along with who knows what else." His eyes flicked to his daemons curled up on his sleeping mat. "Besides, this secret is too big, too important to ignore. Sooner or later, we'll need to find a way to fight back."

"Perhaps." Seymour began sharpening a knife he'd acquired from spirits knew where. "But just because I stuck my neck out for you doesn't mean I want it chopped off. We need a plan."

A plan.

Adrian mulled the problem over as he drifted to sleep, studiously ignoring his heightened awareness of the watcher's rhythmic breathing and the comforting warmth that emanated from his body, filling the narrow space between them. Convincing the Enclave to help still seemed like the best way to seize the initiative against Serenity Corp. All they needed now was a strategy to make that happen.

The following morning, Seymour stared at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Nothing? Your new plan is to do nothing?"

"Not nothing," Adrian replied, bending at the waist to stretch his fingers toward his toes. He'd already completed a brief warm-up before Seymour awoke. "I intend to return to my training."

"And, what, impress the village with your combat prowess? Or have you decided to go on that murderous rampage after all?"

"Neither." He spread his feet apart and twisted, first to the right, then to the left. "If our presence here unnerves them, perhaps we should simply go about our business." Left. Right. Left. Right. "Act like we're no different from the rest of them and let them come to us."

Seymour raised his brow. "You really think ignoring them will do that?"

Adrian shrugged. "It's not like it can go any worse."

"Fine," Seymour said, crossing his arms. Beside him, Tremorfist mimicked the gesture. It might have been cute if it hadn't looked so menacing. "We'll try it your way. But what we decided last night still stands. If there's no progress after another week, we leave."

Adrian rose, stretching his hands above his head as his stomach clenched. "Deal."

The watcher jerked a nod and settled in near Adrian, beginning his own warmup routine. "Good. Now, scoot over. You're hogging all the free space."

Adrian shuffled a couple paces to the side, suppressing a grin. He supposed that had been one more good thing to come out of their time in the Enclave so far—his and Seymour's rekindled friendship. While their previous animosity had begun to fade months ago, it was only now since Kali's defeat and their subsequent reunion that he felt as if they'd finally reached a true accord.

Catching himself staring at the watcher's sweat-slicked face, Adrian flushed and turned away. An accord he dared not threaten by entertaining any budding feelings he might be developing for the difficult, grouchy, arrogant, yet decidedly loyal, honorable, and brave man.

The next week began much like the last. At least this time, Adrian felt like he was accomplishing something, even if it wasn't what he truly wanted. While Seymour committed to strengthening his bond with Shadowlash, Adrian devoted himself to exploring the mysteries of aetherforging—or, at least, giving it a valiant effort.

Without a teacher, even the basics confounded him. He knew it involved imbuing aether into an object. But he didn't have a clue how to do that while keeping the flow of aether stable.

Kali's strange relics were of little help, the badge and containment devices too advanced for him to pick apart even after hours of study. Her aetherforged daggers, however, proved more useful. Using his aethersense, he mapped the delicate network of aether flowing through the metal. Yet, his own pitiful attempts to mimic them failed, his aether refusing to stick.

By the fifth day of their second—and potentially last—week in the Enclave, Adrian was close to abandoning aetherforging as a lost cause. While he attempted to enchant yet another rock from his scavenged pile, Freya chatted with his daemons. Adrian could tell they only understood about half of what she was saying, but they seemed to appreciate the attention regardless. Especially when it involved scritches, back pets, and treats of aether.

The aetheric pattern he'd been carefully weaving into his rock flickered, unraveling. He tried to wrestle it back into position, but it was too late—the aether dissipated uselessly into the air.

Sighing, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Another attempt at aetherforging literally gone up in smoke. He lowered his hands and found Freya studying him, her brow knitted with concentration. He quirked an eyebrow, and she blushed, turning away.

"Sorry," she said. "Mom tells me it's rude to stare."

"It's fine. I'm just mourning another failed experiment."

She perked up at that. He'd learned over the past two weeks that pretty much anything related to daemons was a surefire way to grab her attention. She would've made a fantastic seeker someday…had her people not rightly turned their backs on Serenity Corp.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He held up the rock and glared at it. "Well, I'm trying to get a basic aetherforging to stick to this stone." He shrugged helplessly. "But, as you can see, I'm not making much progress."

"An aetherforging?"

"It's when you infuse aether into an object to enhance it."

Her face brightened. "Oh, like what we do with the daemonsbane."

His heart stuttered to a stop as the whole world seemed to slow. "Daemonsbane?" he asked, trying to rein in his initial surge of excitement.

Something in his face or voice must've given him away because Freya frowned. "It's a local herb. On its own, it's a mild sedative. But when you brew it with aether, it greatly heightens the potency. We use it to make Suprimera tea."

"So that it also suppresses aether!"

She nodded. "It's handy for calming upset daemons, stopping children from losing control, or…" She trailed off, refusing to meet his eyes.

Or weakening daemon masters to imprison them.

The bitter thought did little to dampen his enthusiasm. "Can you show me how to make it?"

Freya bit her lip, considering. He burst into a wide grin when she shrugged. "I guess. It's not like it's a big secret or anything."

He waited impatiently while she fetched a pot of water, a ladle, and a sprig of some herb that smelled vaguely like lemon and mint. She stoked the fire, then added the herb to the water, stirring as she worked. So far, she hadn't done anything out of the ordinary—no aether involved at all. His excitement dimmed. Had she exaggerated the process?

All at once, aether flowed from her hand through the ladle and down into the water. He watched eagerly through his aethersense as the magic swirled into the brewing tea. Freya's movements grew increasingly erratic. Rather than stirring in smooth, concentric circles, she started to form zigzagging patterns through the water.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She gave him a look. "Making Suprimera tea, like I said I would."

"I meant, why are you stirring it like that?"

"Oh," she said, continuing to stir. "You have to follow the flow."

"Follow the…flow?"

She bobbed her head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You can't jam raw aether into something and expect it to stay there. It would either vanish or ruin the tea."

Just like his own misbegotten efforts thus far. "Then…what do you do with the aether?"

"You have to sense the underlying current in the Great Aetheric Sea and allow your aether to follow it. That way, it's absorbed rather than wasted. It's like…" She struggled to find an appropriate comparison. "Like kneading berries into dough. Sure, you can just toss them in there. But if you want them evenly distributed, you've gotta work the dough as you go."

Adrian had never baked anything in his life and wasn't certain the comparison quite fit regardless. Still, he said, "I think I get the gist."

He watched Freya a few moments longer, then turned back to his rock. Relaxing his mind, he stretched out his aethersense as he channeled aether into the stone. It was shaky at first, his efforts fumbling. Gradually, however, he thought he sensed what Freya meant—a natural rhythm that pulsed through the stone, similar to his own aetheric channels but far fainter. He traced the pattern as best he could with his fingertip.

When he'd followed the entire path, he released his aether and sat back, marveling at his handiwork. The enchantment was already beginning to fade, the imbued aether not enough to accomplish much beyond lending the rock a faint glow. Nevertheless, he had done it—he'd created his very first aetherforging!

He met Freya's eyes, still grinning. "Thanks for the lesson! It's, well, exactly what I needed."

She smiled shyly and looked away. "You're welcome. Does this have anything to do with those relics you brought back or with that journal of yours?"

"I hope so! Once I get the hang of aetherforging, I want to figure out how those more advanced enchantments in the relics work so I can…" He trailed off, Freya's words sinking in. He slowly turned back to her. "Wait a minute. How do you know about Crastley's journal?"

Her eyes widened, her gaze darting about like a cornered animal. "Sorry. I, uh, gotta go!"

He stared after her as she scampered off. Well, if he'd needed confirmation that Elana had Crastley's journal, he was pretty sure he'd gotten it. He stood, wiping dust off his hands as annoyance curled through him. Leaving the villagers alone had accomplished as little as being friendly had. Perhaps it was time to adopt a more direct approach.

Elana's hut stood near the center of the village. Ignoring the hostile glares of nearby villagers, he strode right up to the door and banged on it. The door creaked open, revealing Elana's shawl-draped form. He thought he caught the barest flicker of guilt on her face when she saw him before it smoothed away to a serene mask. He'd seen that same expression on Kali and Arbiter Janice—the face of someone trying to project confident indifference.

Spirits take her indifference!

His annoyance flared hotter, all the frustration of the last two weeks boiling to the surface. "You have something of mine, and I want it back!"

Shouts resounded from behind him. Apparently, all he'd had to do to get the villagers' attention was lose his temper. He tuned them out, keeping his glare fixed on Elana until a pair of rough hands yanked him back. Resisting the urge to flare his aura, he gave Elana a pointed look.

She considered him for a long moment before stepping back from her doorway. "It's all right, Ferril. Adrian and I were about to have a friendly chat. Weren't we, Adrian?"

He jerked a nod. The man who'd grabbed him—Ferril—released him. Without another word, Elana vanished into her home. Adrian stalked after her, not quite slamming the door.

Elana's hut matched the one he shared with Seymour—no extra luxuries for the town's leader, it seemed. She took a seat in an old rocking chair and gestured for him to join her.

"Thank you for your restraint with Ferril," she said, clasping her hands in her lap as she regarded him. "I know you could have broken free had you wanted to."

He took a seat across from her. "You don't need to thank me for not assaulting someone. No matter what you or anyone else in this village thinks, Seymour and I are in control of our aether. We're not ticking time bombs, waiting to go off."

Elana pursed her lips. "No, of course not. My apologies. I didn't mean to imply otherwise. I assume this visit is about your journal?"

He breathed in and out, letting his daemons' silent encouragement soothe him. "It is. Have you read the note at the end?"

She nodded. "I tried to read the rest as well, though it appeared to be gibberish."

"You can only read it if you've forged a true bond with a daemon."

"How curious! I've never heard of such a thing."

Neither had Adrian. A book only certain people could read? It was almost like…

He sucked in a breath, his worries over Elana and the Enclave momentarily forgotten. It's almost like a daemonic technique. He'd have said such a thing was impossible before he'd seen Kali's relics with his own eyes. Did Crastley's journal work via a similar method?

He realized Elana was staring at him, and he shook his head to clear it. Exploring that theory could wait. "The journal is mine, and I'd like it back. Please."

Expecting an argument, he was surprised when Elana replied, "Of course." She rose and moved to a small bookshelf against one wall that contained a handful of worn volumes. She plucked a familiar tome from its spot and passed it to him before returning to her seat.

He quickly checked it over—no missing pages or fresh damage. "Thank you."

"Of course. I always intended to return it to you."

"You mean, once you were done having your daughter spy on us." Elana's faint blush was all the confirmation he needed. "No wonder she was the only one to approach us. How hard was it to convince her to brave the vile daemon masters?"

Elana frowned, tracing her fingers over the wooden arm of her chair. "While I admit I badgered my daughter for information, she's done nothing but sing your praises. She chose to vouch for you at the meeting, just as she's chosen to spend time with you since. I've never been able to convince that stubborn girl to do anything."

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but studying Elana's exasperated smile, Adrian found himself believing her. "Then why hang onto our journal in the first place?"

"I hoped to find something in it to offer me wisdom."

"Wisdom about what?"

"About you."

When it became clear she didn't intend to elaborate, he sighed. "You've been avoiding us."

"I thought it prudent to keep my distance while I ponder your presence here."

"And? What conclusions has your pondering led you to?"

She fiddled with her hands in her lap, kneading her fingers together as she studied him. "So far, I've seen no signs that you intend us harm, and I must admit that I find the idea of defying Serenity Corp appealing. But we founded the Enclave to escape the League's problems, not to embroil ourselves in them. My people are scared, and after everything we've seen before coming here, I can't blame them. You are a threat to our very way of life."

Fresh annoyance spiked through him. "Seymour and I have done nothing to them!"

"You represent temptation—a way to possess the power of a bond without the associated guilt. It's a tantalizing proposition, one many of them believe too good to be true."

"Like your sister?" he guessed.

Elana grimaced. "Leda is stubborn, but she's always had the Enclave's best interests at heart. Even if she can be…set in her ways."

That wasn't really an answer, but he let it slide in favor of the bigger question nagging at him. "What are we supposed to do then? You make it sound like we should give up and leave."

"Do what you think is best." Her shawl shifted as she offered a small shrug. "Prove to them—and to me—that you are genuine. Show us that we have nothing to fear."

With that, she rose and shuffled toward the door. Clearly, the conversation was over.

"What about the rest of our gear—Seymour's armor and our bags?" he asked as he stood.

"It will be returned to your quarters by nightfall."

Clutching Crastley's journal to his chest, he nodded and made to leave. He paused by the entrance to glance back at the Enclave's leader. "Other than your daughter, you're the only person in this entire village who seems inclined to give us a chance. Why?"

Elana considered his question before bowing her head. "Everyone here carries their own stories—their own pain that drove them to join the Enclave. For my part, I learned long ago to keep an open mind and to always treat others with kindness. Not everyone shares my optimism. Still, though you might not believe it yet given the reception you've received, my compatriots may yet be swayed…if you give them adequate reason to do so."

Her words echoed in his head as he departed. Too restless to return to his hut, he wandered the village streets. His frustration had faded, replaced once more with doubt. Neither putting themselves out there nor retreating from the public eye had reassured anyone, and Elana seemed content to let the rest of the Enclave make up their own minds. Without the people's endorsement, they'd never receive hers. And no matter what she said, so far the people wanted nothing to do with them.

Well…except for one stubborn girl. According to Elana, Freya genuinely trusted them. Could they leverage that connection somehow?

He found Freya pacing outside his hut. When she saw him approach, she stilled, her anxious eyes shifting from side to side.

"It's all right," he called as he hurried toward her.

She squinted at him. "You're not mad?"

He stopped several paces away. "Why would I be?"

"I betrayed your trust," she said with a grimace. "I should've told you all the stuff my mother asked me, but I was worried you wouldn't talk to me anymore."

The genuine distress in her voice eliminated his remaining reservations. He could imagine how frustrating it must have been to have a keen interest in daemons and the outside world while growing up in a place like the Enclave. Especially with an aunt like Leda.

He smiled at her. "From what your mother says, you've been our biggest advocate." He glanced around the otherwise deserted street and sighed. "Our only advocate."

She answered his dim smile with a cautious grin of her own. "I just call it like I see it. If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word."

"Actually," he said, his smile broadening, "I have a favor to ask…"

It didn't take Freya long to round up everyone else in the village willing to talk to him. Of course, that might've been because it turned out to be exactly one person.

"Sorry," Freya said. "He was the only person I could find who wasn't angry or terrified."

Adrian suppressed a sigh. "I suppose it's a start."

Xander looked much the same as when they'd rescued him from Souleater, though with cleaner clothes. He swallowed, avoiding Adrian's gaze. "Freya said you wanted to talk?"

"That's right. I appreciate you coming." Adrian made a sweeping gesture at the empty space around them. "As you can see, people aren't exactly lining up for the honor right now."

Xander let out an involuntary chuckle, seeming startled by the sound. A small victory.

"First, allow me to thank you," Adrian continued. "I owe you a debt."

Xander looked up sharply. "A debt? For what?"

"For helping Seymour rescue me. Without you, I might not have survived."

"No!" Xander protested. His face flushed. "Well, I mean, yes, that happened. But you don't need to thank me. You and Seymour had already saved my life. Even if…" He trailed off, seeming to think better of what he'd been about to say.

"Even if Seymour can be a bit terrifying?" Adrian guessed, raising an amused eyebrow.

Xander gave a bashful smile. "That's one way of putting it."

Chuckling, Adrian gestured to the makeshift sitting area he'd constructed outside their hut out of scavenged stones and logs. "Want to chat with me for a bit? Or are you busy?"

Xander hesitated before offering a shrug. "I've got a couple hours until dinner."

"Great! Then, let me tell you about this time I was sent to capture a legion of Squeaktails…"

By the time Seymour returned from his daily training, most of the tension had bled out of Xander. Heartrender sat purring in his lap while Xander played tug-of-war with Lockrod using an Unbendable Rod. Lockrod seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he was going easy.

Seymour took in the scene, scowled, and said, "I'm going inside. Get me when you're done." He stalked past them into the hut, slamming the door behind him. Adrian suppressed a grin. He'd spent enough time around the watcher to catch the approval hidden beneath his gruff fa?ade.

The next day, Xander returned, along with a half-dozen other kids around his age. They were nervous at first, like Xander had been. But seeing Freya and Xander interacting so easily with Adrian's daemons piqued their curiosity. By that afternoon, they screamed with laughter as Lockrod chased them around a touch too enthusiastically with an Unbendable Rod.

For the first time since their arrival, Adrian felt a genuine spark of optimism. A handful of children was a far cry from the entire village, but it was a start. And all it had taken was focusing on changing one mind at a time rather than the whole Enclave at once.

"You and Shadowlash seem to be doing better," Adrian remarked later that night. It was still weird seeing his former nemesis laying at Seymour's feet, but it also gave him a certain sense of warm pride. People can change for the better—daemons, too.

"I suppose." Seymour eyed Adrian. "And you seem to be bonding admirably with the village youth. Making any headway with their fearless leader?"

Adrian had told Seymour about his discussion with Elana the other day, and sure enough, they'd found their missing gear waiting for them in their hut that night. He shrugged. "Hard to say. But we're on the right track. I think we should stick it out for the rest of the month."

Seymour exhaled a long-suffering sigh. "I expected you to say as much. Very well. We can give it the full month now that it isn't looking like a total lost cause."

Adrian couldn't hold back his grin. "Great! Speaking of…maybe you could come to the next gathering? You know, show off your meditation and exercise routines to a few people."

Seymour eyed Adrian suspiciously. "How many is ‘a few'?"

"I guess we'll see tomorrow," Adrian replied.

As it turned out, a few meant almost a dozen. Xander and Freya were there, of course, along with a smattering of Xander's friends. There were even a couple older villagers whose interest must've finally outweighed their fear. Either that or, judging by the stern look one of them was giving Adrian, they wanted to make sure he wasn't corrupting their youth.

Adrian stood off to the side while Seymour took position near the front. The watcher wore his drained armor, and even with its battered appearance, he struck an imposing figure as he surveyed the gathered crowd. Especially with how the sun catches the flecks of gold in his eyes, Adrian thought, fighting down a blush.

"All right," Seymour said, dropping into a basic fighting stance that had him bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Let's begin."