Chương 32: Whispering Stroke

Aelia was about to die. She stood against five sharp-fanged, ugly wolves with a paintbrush in hand and a lanky boy by her side. She was sure of it. This time, she was not making it out alive. In fact, this was not the first time she had faced death. The first time had been three weeks ago, when she'd met a boy during the horrible Blessed Trial she had the misfortune to be part of. In hindsight, involving herself with such a weird boy, the strangest one she'd ever met, might not have been her wisest decision.

She should tell the story, if only to make sense of how she had ended up in such a predicament. Why not start by explaining how she'd always viewed herself as an ordinary girl? Yes, she was ordinary. She attended classes, went to bed early, and ate whatever Mother prepared. She lived upon a mountain in a decently large house, though it was more like a secluded villa than a simple home. The truth was, she had no noteworthy skills, while every single person in her family was unique and special.

She had made peace with that a long time ago. What she had never made peace with was how no one else seemed to see her as ordinary. If she asked anyone else, they would not label her as such. In fact, the way people looked at her with such quiet, unearned reverence, as though she were a precious gem that must be praised simply for existing among them, never made sense to her. People applauded her good manners, her composure, and the careful way she listened before she softly spoke.

They hailed her painting skills with more admiration than she felt she deserved, though that was the only thing she could honestly say she was decent at. Still, it baffled her. Why did they praise her as if she were the furthest thing from normal? She didn't deserve such compliments, but she accepted them gracefully anyway, because that was what a proper lady ought to do. Privately, however, she often wondered what exactly people saw in her.

Whatever it was, she could never see it when she looked at herself in the mirror. Was there something wrong with people… or perhaps with her? Something that made others think she was worthy of praise. She wasn't. Yet it seemed her charm—which she didn't even know how to use, if she had any at all—had reached the gods themselves. A yellow light bloomed from the Diviner during the Awakening Ceremony. Her first feeling wasn't joy.

It had been the quiet, specific anxiety of being handed something she hadn't earned, the same unease she felt every time people praised her. Yellow cores were a feat reserved for Archons, monarchs, and heroes whose bloodlines carried history's weight. Not for a girl whose greatest feat was learning how to mix the exact shade of amber that captured the late-afternoon light over the still waters of an ocean at sunset. What was she supposed to do in the Blessed Trial?

How was she supposed to survive it, even with a yellow Divine core? Her little brother Albus receiving a Divine white core made perfect sense. Anadis receiving a black one… well, that one didn't make much sense at all. He was stubborn and persistent. He was the one who had trained since he was five and had read every book the Learning Hall owned twice over. She had done none of that. He should have been the one to get her Divine core. Just what were the gods thinking?

Aelia had never once raised a sword in her life. Actually, she had when she was little, and Father forced her to pick his up. She remembered it being so heavy that when she tried to lift it from the rack, she spun around and the whole rack went down, half a dozen sharp objects nearly landing on her face, if Father hadn't shielded her with his back, she didn't even want to imagine it. After that, there had been a silent agreement between them, and she never picked one up again.

And because of that, she had known the moment that feral, boar-like Grull appeared during the Blessed Trial that she was going to die. Seconds ticked by. The world narrowed around the creature's tusks until all she could feel was the wetness between her thighs as she peed herself. Or had that been the rain? She preferred to think a young girl of her standing wouldn't have wet herself.

She did have two Boons she could use, but one was a paintbrush, a beautiful one with a handle crafted from swirling rose gold and embedded with shards of diamond. Still, what was she supposed to do? Paint the beast a beautiful landscape in the hopes it wouldn't make her part of its diet? Of course not. Aelia managed to roll over and evade the Grull twice as it charged with intent to headbutt her and stab her with its tusks, but she stupidly rolled herself right into the base of a tree.

The beast charged straight at her, and she had already assumed that was her end. It was then that Aelia saw the trace of whirling air rush in front of her and slam into the boar. The Grull lurched violently, jerking its long tusks toward the source of the attack just as a glistening arrow pierced the side of its thick neck. The veins along the Grull's throat pulsed and bulged, turning a sickly purple.

"Run!" a voice shouted from the bushes. Only then did she truly notice the boy. She had seen him before the trial began, but she hadn't paid him any attention. Also, there was a little fox? Why was a fox with him? And had that fox just shot an air blast at the Grull? The boy grabbed her arm and yanked her up and forward, hauling her onto her feet. Aelia ran, the new battle clothing the cathedral deacons had given her already torn at the hems.

Thanks to the little fox staying behind to distract the Grull, Aelia and the boy escaped. After several minutes of frantic running, they finally stopped.

"You… saved me," she breathed, disbelief and gratitude mingling in her voice.

"Thank you."

"Are you stupid?!" the boy yelled. His brown hair was greasy and badly cut.

"Pardon me?" Aelia furrowed her brows. That was unusual.

"You just stood there and did nothing!" the boy fumed at her.

"I had to put myself in danger to save your behind. I can't believe I jumped in to save a homely girl who can't even pretend to fend for herself." He clicked his tongue in disgust.

"Talentless."

"What did you just call me?!" Aelia's jaw slackened.

"Homely?" He had also called her talentless, which was a first, but that could be excused since she hadn't really displayed a hint of talent in front of the Grull. But homely?

"Yes, you're plain as a marble slab," the boy said.

"Perhaps in a couple of years that figure of yours can amount to something, not now, though." Perhaps for the first time in her life, Aelia found herself at a loss for words. She felt offended. That was… she didn't mean to boast, but she was certain she wasn't homely or unattractive. Not if every boy at the Learning Hall had something to say about her looks. Aelia had heard it all before. Her skin was white as sugar. Her voice was as sweet as caramel. That she smelled as good as honey.

Boys always reached for food when they wanted to compliment her, as if she were some dessert they were eager to taste. Once in painting class, a boy had called her "sweet as syrup," and she'd almost thrown her paintbrush at him. She didn't. Instead, she composed herself and gave a polite, appreciative nod. Still, she was exhausted from being compared to food. It made her hungry and caused her to lose her concentration while painting.

But this boy didn't compare her to anything sweet, nor did he look at her with voracious eyes. He did the opposite—staring at her with an ugly glare she had never been on the receiving end of. Breathing deeply, she tried to calm herself. She could not break her composure, or she would make a mockery of all Grandma and Mother had taught her. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"I apologize for being a burden upon you," she said, her voice steady.

"Still, if I may be so bold as to ask for your name… and for your support, so that we may prevail this trial." The boy grunted in disapproval.

"I don't need your help, and I don't want you slowing me down. So scram." Aelia studied him for a moment, the way she might study a portrait that refused to make sense but that she was determined to understand. Then she clasped her hands in front of her and said, quite calmly, "I understand. However, I have a yellow core, two Boons I haven't used yet, and nowhere else to be.

So unless you plan on physically removing me," she glanced pointedly at his bow, "I think we're going the same direction—" The boy leaped up into a sprint without another word, leaving her sentence hanging in the air.

"Hold!" she called, launching into a run herself. She was fast, faster than she had ever been, but the boy was faster. Even with the enhancement the trial had given her, she couldn't catch up to him. In the end, she never caught him. The trial concluded without another glimpse of the strange boy or anyone else, for that matter. More importantly, it passed without another glance at the Grull. Thank the gods for that last one. Nevertheless, she couldn't explain exactly why she wanted to see the boy once more.

Yes, he was rather abrasive, but there was something unique about him. She wanted to understand him… or perhaps simply talk to him. It wasn't until the first day of classes, after a group of boys had been pestering her insistently, that she saw the trial boy again. Thankfully, the twins had shown up, and the boys quickly lost interest in her and turned their attention to Albus instead.

He was a student of the Learning Hall, so it made sense that she might have seen him around before and simply hadn't paid him any mind. But now, she did. She ran after him and caught his arm. The boy spun around. Aelia hesitated for a second, thinking she might have grabbed the wrong person. But upon closer inspection, she was certain it was him.

His hair had changed from the greasy, scruffy brown he'd worn in the forest to a dull ashen grey, and his skin was now grey-tinged and deathly pale, almost as if both his hair and skin had been drained of all vitality.

"What do you want?" the boy asked. His confused expression quickly darkened into a glower. What did she want? She felt like she owed it to him, or perhaps to herself, to speak with him after what had happened.

"I'm Aelia," she blurted, then quickly bobbed a curtsy.

"Please, may I know your name?"

"I don't recall asking for your name," he groaned.

"Don't go comparing me to your pack of followers. Seriously, a yellow core is wasted on you." His voice dripped with contempt, making no attempt to hold back. Aelia should, by all rights, have felt irritation toward the offensive boy. Yet she realized with some discomfort that this was the first time anyone had looked at her without reverence. There was no hunger in his gaze. No performance. Just a flat, unimpressed assessment, as though she were simply a person who had failed to meet a reasonable standard.

She smiled wide at him. He backed up a step.

"Why are you smiling, you weirdo?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, waving a hand.

"I just think you're very honest."

"Got a problem with that?" He huffed and crossed his arms.

"Everything just gets handed to girls like you," he declared, a hint of nervous laugh creeping into his voice.

"Someone finally tells you the truth and you don't even know what to do with it." Surprisingly, he wasn't entirely wrong. She hadn't been born into nobility, but she had never once gone without—not food, not warmth, not love—not even attention. She knew that.

"No," Aelia said, shaking her head as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I like that you're honest." His eyes widened. Then he looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. He scratched at his temple—it was dry and dull, with no sweat even under the heat. Meanwhile, Aelia could feel the sheen of gleaming droplets coating her own forehead. Perhaps all his changes were an effect of his Blessing, just like her brother Anadis and his golden eyes.

"However," Aelia whispered after a few moments.

"I've wondered the same thing myself. A yellow core feels… misplaced on me somehow. I never imagined the gods could make a mistake, yet when I look at myself, I struggle to understand their decision."

"Well," the boy snorted, "those twin brothers of yours, one blessed with white, the other… not so much." He let the silence hang.

"Almost makes you wonder what the gods saw in one that they didn't in the other." The tall, surly-looking boy flinched and craned his neck away from Aelia's glare.

"You can say whatever you want about me," Aelia said, her tone steely.

"But I'd choose your next words carefully. My brothers' names don't deserve to be tarnished with your insults." After looking at her with scrutinizing eyes and giving two odd nods, as though settling something in his own mind, he turned around and began walking away. Regretting her words almost immediately, Aelia palmed her forehead. The boy probably hadn't meant anything bad by his comment.

She had simply reacted on instinct—the instinct of a sister who despised anyone, especially a stranger, inserting their opinion about her family.

"Sevran." Aelia heard his voice, quiet and without him turning around, as if the words cost him nothing because they didn't. Aelia blinked.

"Pardon?"

"My name." He didn't stop walking.

"Since you asked." Unbidden, her lips curled into a small smile. She didn't fully understand what had changed his mind, but now she knew the boy's name.

"Sevran," she whispered to herself. Her surprise had been immense when she saw him again the very next day at the Blessen guild as she and the twins were registering as Blessens. When their eyes met across the room, she had braced herself for that cold, flat stare. Instead, he gave her a single nod that wasn't warm per se, but not dismissive either. And then, he flashed her a smile. Small and gone almost before it arrived. She hadn't known his face could do that.

Concocting a quick lie for her siblings, she slipped away from their sight and went to meet him again. She was surprised at how easily the words had left her lips. Why had she lied at all? She could have simply told them about him, especially Nona, her sister and best friend. However, she wanted to know him more first. She wanted to decipher the colors of him before turning the canvas and showing it to anyone. When she met up with him that time, he had been more welcoming than before.

He was still mildly abrasive, but Aelia assumed that was simply his nature. They talked for about an hour, perhaps longer. It felt foreign in a way she couldn't quite phrase, comfortable where she had expected friction, easy where she had braced for difficulty. His bold way of putting things was new to her, like discovering a landscape she had never seen before and wanting to paint it from every angle. They kept meeting up for the next two weeks until he told her he was planning to venture into the forest.

Aelia had urged him not to go alone. She wanted to introduce him to her brothers and father, perhaps they could all go together. That would be safer and prevent him or anyone from getting seriously hurt. She thought he would agree, but he insisted there was something he needed to face alone. The expression on his face had etched itself into her memory, sharp and unyielding in a way she had never seen before. She didn't know his motives, but she didn't need to. She understood it was something dangerous.

Sevran had given her all the details of when he planned to go and what he planned to do. Perhaps he hadn't thought she would actually follow him. She wasn't the type. Obviously she wouldn't. So… she had followed him. At the time, it had seemed sensible. Looking back, it ranked among the worst decisions she had ever made, because there she was, facing five pairs of yellow eyes belonging to enormous wolf-like Grulls. It occurred to her, rather belatedly, that Mother would be very disappointed.

Father too but for different reasons. And that was how Aelia had gone from her first brush with death to now staring at it for the second time and quite possibly her last. The four smallest wolves charged, their sharp paws digging into the wet soil, ravenous as saliva dripped from their maws.

"Be prepared!" Sevran shouted.

"Kill those Grulls, it's either them or us!" She understood the words. Applying them, however, was another matter entirely. She could at least read their movements clearly. Aelia summoned Whispering Stroke, her paintbrush that had stayed with her after the trial, and tried to draw… what, exactly? Sevran clashed with two of them, his hunting knife flashing in his hand.

The little fox that had been with him during the trial arrived only seconds earlier and shot an air blast at one of the wolves, leaving the last one charging straight toward her. Aelia stammered as the creature jerked its jagged fangs toward her. She quickly drew a small shield, little more than a fancy circular thing that resembled a wooden shield, but the wolf batted it away, the ink soaking uselessly into the ground. This was it. The wolf tackled her in the gut. She fell hard, gagging.

She braced for the bite, or for the sharp pain of her flesh tearing open beneath the Grull's claws. A heavy thud resounded beside her. When she opened her eyes, the Grull's head had rolled next to her, its headless body collapsing in a heap. A lone figure stood over Aelia. The last traces of daylight caught its outline, but its face remained frustratingly indistinct.

"What the hell did you do, you sweet-talking bastard?!" The words weren't aimed at her. They were spit at Sevran.

"How the hell did you convince my sister to follow you into a Grull-infested forest?" She knew that voice. Even when shouting, it was a comfort. Was that actually him? What was he doing here?

"Anadis?"