28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

The walk back to Arken’s apartment was quiet, but the silence between us felt comfortable.

Every now and again, I’d steal a glance at her to make sure she felt the same way, confirming it in the soft, serene expression she held as her eyes wandered over the beauty that was Sophrosyne at night.

Our conversation on the wall left me more introspective than usual, if not a bit unsettled. Even though I’d kept all confidentialities in check, I hadn’t opened up to anyone like that in a very, very long time. I felt a certain ease around Arken, one that I would have to be more actively aware of going forward, I realized.

I wasn’t against opening up with her to an extent—I knew that was part of friendship, but I was still treading dangerous ground. There were some things that I simply couldn’t share with her, and would never be able to share with anyone.

That said, I was nothing if not a master at compartmentalization, so I’d figure it out. I had only been thrown for a moment, because opening said compartments was atypical behavior… but I couldn’t lie to myself and pretend that I hadn’t felt some relief, like I had released just the tiniest amount of pressure in the back of my head.

“Hey, Kier?”

My ears perked up, both eager for the distraction and the odd satisfaction of hearing her shorten my name with any sort of familiarity.

“Yeah?”

“How familiar are you with myths and legends?”

I raised a brow, curious as to where she was going with this.

“I’m decently versed in them, I suppose. I mean, clearly I have a penchant for museums and secret scraps of Sophrosyne lore. Why do you ask?”

“Have you ever heard the Irrosi legend about the Harbingers, and a second cataclysm?”

A sudden weight plummeted in the pit of my stomach.

Why was she asking about that legend, of all things?

“I’m familiar, yes,” I replied, keeping my voice even. Casual. “Did they cover that in class today or something?”

“Not exactly. They were talking about the differences between mortal and Aetherborne magicks today, and some guy brought it up as a side tangent. I wasn’t sure if they were exaggerating, or making some shit up,” she explained.

“Well, I mean, most legends are made up—stitched together with inaccuracies and misinterpretation,” I replied.

Though this one was an exception…

“I beg to differ, but I’ll put that particular argument on hold,” Arken said. “But… Do the people of Irros really believe that? That some errant Conduit could come along and upset the aether of the world again to such an extent that it would bring about another Cataclysm?”

Clearly, this was Arken’s latest hyperfixation. I sighed internally. Leave it to her to get wrapped up in the concept of the end of days.

“I couldn’t tell you—I’ve never been to Irros, and haven’t studied enough anthropology to know whether or not that’s still a commonly held belief.”

“Oh.”

I glanced over at her to find her staring into space, chewing at her lip.

“They’re just stories, Ark,” I said.

Or nightmares.

“Ah, yeah. I know,” she replied. “Every now and again, I just get struck by some reminder that the world is a much bigger place than I could have ever truly fathomed. As much as Amaretta taught me back home, it was always so self-contained to that tiny little village. Legends and myths like that were just as distant as the stars in the night sky. Here in Sophrosyne, they feel… closer to reality, somehow.”

Yet again, I found that I completely understood how Arken saw the world.

“Sometimes being here makes me feel like I spent the last twenty-two years of my life in ignorance. Asleep, even. And now, it’s like I’m finally waking up,” she said. “From a very dull dream, I might add.”

I laughed gently.

“I’m not sure that feeling ever truly goes away,” I said. “I’m not even in active study anymore, and the absolute depth of knowledge stored within these walls still knocks me on my ass sometimes.”

“Glad to hear something can knock you on your ass sometimes, Captain,” she teased, her spirits clearly lifting.

“You’d be surprised,” I said. Sophrosyne wasn’t the only thing knocking me off my feet as of late.

“So I assume you used to study here, too?”

I rolled up my left sleeve, showing her my wrist where the Seed of Creation was still visible, marred by a few light scars and scratches.

“I studied for about a year or so before I decided to join the guard,” I explained. “Prior to that, I had been trying to follow in my brother’s footsteps, focusing on politics.”

I could taste the regret on my tongue the moment those words passed my lips. I really needed to be more careful around her, godsdamnit.

“You have a brother?”

“Had.”

I didn’t like using that clipped, brusque tone with her, but this was a hard line for me.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” she said softly, assuming the worst.

“He’s not dead,” I replied quietly. I wasn’t about to let this conversation go much further, but I could give her the bare minimum explanation. “We’re just not close. Not anymore. I’m essentially dead to him. We haven’t spoken in years.”

Her brow furrowed. I could see the curiosity, the blend of analytical and emotional calculations happening behind her eyes as she tried to imagine what could have caused such a deep cut in a bond like brotherhood. I sighed heavily.

“I know you’re about to ask me why, or what happened, and I promise that it’s nothing against you, but I really don’t wanna go there, Ark,” I said.

The concern cleared from her face almost immediately as she nodded.

“That’s alright,” she said. “I understand.”

I exhaled, feeling relieved. This wasn’t the first time that I had slipped up around her—around Arken, of all people—an inherently curious woman. But she never used it as an excuse to dig any deeper, never pressed me for details. She always seemed to respect my boundaries without question. Somehow, that made me want to give her just a little bit more. A small token of my appreciation.

“Ultimately, I joined the Guard because I love this city. I love Pyrhhas and Atlas, but Sophrosyne in particular… I’ve always loved it here. The people, the vibrancy, the ideals—they’re all worth defending. I wanted to do something meaningful with my life, and I’m proud of the path I chose and how hard I worked to get here. I don’t take pride in a lot of shit, but this is one of the few things that I really, really do.”

She was quiet for a moment as we kept walking, quickly approaching the cluster of private apartments where she lived. Instead of accepting the free housing offered by the Studium, Arken had inherited her mentor’s old studio. Not that I should know that, but I’d pocketed more than a few details from her file when I’d gone searching for her aetheric signature.

“Thank you, Kieran,” she said softly.

It was like she knew that wasn’t something I’d ever told anyone else. But I had to ask. “For what?”

“For giving a shit. Protecting what you love. And for being an excellent tour guide, sneaking me places where I’m not supposed to be without getting me tossed in a jail cell again.”

I laughed, appreciating that last addition.

“Getting tossed in a jail cell costs extra, actually. The first time is free, but after that it’s more of an add-on package to my services,” I replied.

She smirked. “I didn’t realize I was being charged for your services in the first place. Am I running up a tab as we speak?”

“Nah, you can keep your Lyra. You pay for my tour guide services by putting up with me in the first place.”

“You also still owe me a lesson in conjuring a better mail sprite,” she reminded me.

“And I’m going to keep ignoring that in favor of more exciting excursions,” I informed her. “You’re going to give poor Bluebell an inferiority complex.”

She laughed as we stopped walking, having arrived at her studio.

“Goodnight, Kieran.”

“Sweet dreams, Little Conduit.”

As I walked back to my townhouse that night, it was the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel the need to go searching for some sort of distraction to get out of my head.

My mind was quiet.

It was a temporary balm, I knew. A fleeting comfort, one that I didn’t dare let myself grow accustomed to.

But it was a comfort, nonetheless.