My face must lay my thoughts bare, or else Orthriel is reading them again. I’m still groggy from the island’s waters, but if I focus inwards… yes, there is it. Gentler, more tentative than before, but the unmistakable sensation of slender fingers rifling my mind.
‘The truth is a tapestry with many threads, Leilani. It’s more complicated than I can explain, and there are things my prior vows of Guardianship prevent me from sharing with you. But if Noelani had been more prudent, if she’d only listened to me…’ Orthriel shakes their head and their sharp features harden. ‘But I’ll not let you repeat her mistakes.’
Those fears I buried after receiving Noelani’s prophecy, the nibbles of doubt about becoming her puppet, blindly following someone I shouldn’t trust, turn to a relentless gnaw. But I focus my frustrations on Orthriel, always holding things back, always standing in quiet – and sometimes not-so-quiet – judgement of me. I slam the door connecting our minds. On purpose, this time.
‘It’s my life. Mine. You mean well, but you need to stop trying to run it for me. First my father, now you. I’m not a child anymore.’
Orthriel draws back, and the flashing silver of their eyes dulls. ‘No, you’re not. And in the end, you’ll have to make your own choices. I can’t always be there to protect you from them.’ A shadow passes over my Guardian’s face as they turn away and continue gliding towards the cloud-tower.
I lengthen my strides to keep up, wishing I’d tempered my harsh words. I’ve missed Orthriel so much – was so afraid I’d lost them forever. I don’t want our reunion spoilt. I choose not to reopen the door between our minds. But this time it’s not because I’m angry, it’s because I don’t want Orthriel to know how stupid I feel, how much I regret acting like the petulant child they still think me.
‘Blayze wasn’t born Branded,’ I say, remembering one of the questions I’ve been wanting to ask them, hoping the change in subject might ease the tension between us. ‘He was made. Only a few sunrings ago. I didn’t think such things were possible…’
Orthriel slows until we fall into step. We now stand in the swirling shadow of the cloud-tower.
‘It’s rare, but I’ve heard of other cases. Lyndon was one such. His powers manifested after he made a childhood pilgrimage to the Sacred Grove.’
‘Blayze said his marking appeared after he journeyed to the Burning Mountain.’
‘Perhaps exposure to the Aether cores can bless an individual, cause some latent magic to quicken…’ Orthriel’s face softens into pensiveness. ‘The mysteries of brandlore are ancient, I don’t pretend to understand everything. Many secrets were lost with the Book of Mysteries.’
My heart skips. The self-same book Blayze now carries in his pack.
‘Why have you brought me here?’ I ask, hoping to distract Orthriel, avoid them learning the whereabouts of the grimoire. That’s Blayze’s secret to share, not mine. ‘To chastise me about the Clanschief? Surely, you didn’t need to drag me…’ The words shrivel on my lips. Orthriel is wincing.
Bad news. I’m about to receive bad news.
‘I’ve been keeping something from you, Leilani. Something important.’
My pulse hammers my throat. Not my mother. Anything but that.
‘It’s… You’ll have to come inside. There’s something I have to show you.’ And with these ominous words hanging in the air between us, Orthriel flits inside the diaphanous entrance to the tower.
I hesitate at the threshold. Reuel said we could walk these towers, but how can a swirl of cloud possibly support my mortal frame?
Orthriel beckons for me to follow. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
I inch inside the doorway. The walls, the floor, have the appearance of carved snow, only instead of being solid, the glistening white vapour is translucent as gossamer. Orthriel starts to climb a staircase that spirals the centre of the tower. I place my foot on the bottom step and suck in a breath when it doesn’t sink through the gauzy mist. It’s as though I’ve cast off my body, as if I too am a being of pure Star-Aether.
As we circle up the staircase, a breeze whips through the tower. The staircase lurches and I clutch at the handrail, surprised when I’m able to grip it. The tower is now only half its original height. Orthriel pre-empts my question.
‘They change with the winds.’
Orthriel leads me to a small chamber. A casement-shaped opening in the cloud-wall faces one of the island’s many waterfalls, with views beyond to the summit of the Astral Mountain. They utter several words in a distantly familiar language, soft and sibilant as a rustling breeze. Orthriel seldom uses Airsong in front of me now, but they often sang me to sleep in their native language when I was little.
A letter materialises in mid-air.
Sharp nails scrape my gut. I recognise the sloping script embroidering the envelope. That amethyst ink.
A CRUEL AWAKENING
LEILANI
‘TAKEIT.’ORTHRIELbows their head. ‘I’m afraid I can no better prepare you for what it contains than I could with Noelani’s first letter.’
I breathe out a tattered rush of air. ‘You couldn’t just tell me there was another one?’
‘No. Not without breaking the oath she made me swear on my heartcrystal. It was to remain a secret, hidden on Nimbi, in this very tower, which housed Noelani on the rare occasions she visited us here. In giving it to you, I discharge my final duty to her.’
