Reminiscing

The fire bloomed wild once again.

The practice hall she had hidden herself in was brimming with a heat that could burn the entire hall to the ground if she gave it enough time. Aurinka muttered the incantation, barely audible. Her hands locked into position, tense, far too tense, as every muscle strained itself to its limits. A sensation akin to a thousand needles stinging her all at once passed through her whole frame, as a bolt shot out. It travelled through the hall, blasting the warded wall with a hiss, leaving only scorched, web-like soot and the smell of burned wood on the wall besides it.

Aurinka didn't lower her hand. There is no way she was going to stop now. Not after all this. Something screamed at her to continue. And she did.

Her fingers twitched as she coughed, her breathing uneven and shallow, yet she still forced the weave into the palm of her hands. A warm thread of magic flared up in her hands, as she cast another firebolt, broken and flaring at its ends, barely reaching the target as it sizzled out. The mark it left behind was tinier than before; still, the recoil pushed her two steps back, forcing her to plant her right foot on the stone floor with a thud, as she steadied herself once again. It was quiet for a moment, the acrid smoke from the spell filled her nose. She hated the silence after each failure. Tonight, it was worse. Her fists clenched tightly as she took another deep breath.

Again.

The third beam of fire diminished midway, as if the spell collapsed in her hands and only travelled past them out of sheer luck. That hurt. Her hands burned red now, as they shook from the recoil. Aurinka stared at the smoke; her eyes stung. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to try once more.

"Aurinka."

His voice cut through the hall— calm, collected, as he stood near the stone-framed archway, watching her. The sound of it forced her to stop for a moment. She knew the voice, but Aurinka did not turn.

Why isn't this working... This doesn't feel right. I hate this. My hands hurt. Come on... Come on, Come on! Work you useless things, just work!

"Again."

The aasimar's voice broke through the haze of thoughts loudly, trying to drown out the man, the pain, and her psyche. Her voice wavering just like the flame that flickered in her hands.

Again.
Again.
Again!

Each spell came out worse than the one before, desperate and angry as it fluctuated in her grasp. First growing bigger than necessary, then travelling off-course, then breaking apart in front of her as if the weave itself had denied it. Her stance was riddled with gaps now as her body swayed from left to right, boots scraping weakly against the stone floor. Her chest rose wildly as each iteration of the incantation brought out a wave of impatience and frustration as the sounds of her laboured breathing echoed within the hall.

Her focus was slipping and she knew it. Gods did she hate that.

"That's enough." He said, firmer now, taking a couple of steps closer towards the young girl.

Aurinka spun and hurled a bolt without even thinking, not truly at him, but at the presence that stepped too close. Still, it stopped him right in his tracks as the flame scraped the right side of his cloak.

"No!"

The incantation was wrong this time, and… her hands, her hands didn't feel right—no. She couldn’t feel her hands at all. Her breathing worsened, ragged, as it mirrored that of a wounded animal.

With a final desperate attempt, the young girl shot out another unstable bolt. The magic recoiled in her hands once more. The backlash this time snapped through her arms like a metal whip, travelling through her veins up to her chest like a vine of thorns piercing her and then, finally, lodging in her lungs. Pain crushed the air from her lungs, a hiss escaped through her gritted teeth as she dragged a breath back, forcing herself to stand.

That was until her legs gave out. She staggered at first, her right leg trying to compensate for her left, failing to catch her weight as her knees buckled– before she knew it, gravity had already claimed her.

That was enough.

The older man moved instantly, catching the young girl from behind, his left hand on her left shoulder, using his arm to brace her back, as he helped her get back up. Her temperature was far from normal. She burned against him, if he hadn't been a mage, she might have even scorched him.

"Breathe Aurinka." He said quietly, his grip was firm on her, as he looked at the golden girl. His gaze wandering to her face and the scar on her right side, the one she never decided for herself. Her eyes were red and a trail of past tears was evident on her cheeks. The girl forcefully pulled her body away, looking at him once and then steadying herself to presumably try again.

"I-" Her voice cracked as she sucked in air like it hurt, really hurt. Her fingers spasmed, her vision blurred. "I need to try again."

"No, not any more, you need a break." Ozias replied sharper and louder this time, trying to set a boundary.

"Don't! Don't—" She snapped, her voice brittle and weak. Her words barely qualified as protest as she stared him defiantly. "You don't get to decide that for me, master."

"I'm not deciding, I'm trying to stop you from tearing yourself apart." His voice this time wasn't calm, but restrained.

Aurinka laughed— a short, broken laugh devoid of any humour. A false smile crept up her face, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Is that what it looks like to you, master? Tearing myself apart?" the girl approached her master, the man she had only known for months up until this point. Every step and thud left a trail of soot on the floor as she chuckled along the way. Her expression was furious, but he saw it in her eyes: a hint of desperation hidden deep within, and he knew that very look of hers.

"I know what this is, better than you think." His voice was softer now, but the way he looked at her, was not in comfort, but as if he was analysing her, measuring, calculating. And that stung even more than any recoil from a spell could.

"No, you don’t!" Her words came fast, desperate, as if she slowed down in this very moment, it would break her. "You know the theory behind it all, the textbooks, and protocols and anything they show you on the paper behind the brainwashing– but not behind what he truly did to me! What the crown did to me!" Her voice faltered as her body shook, rising in volume with every word. Approaching her master, her arms were stretched out into the air in a mocking gesture and perhaps something else. "Oh, the Great White Mage Ozias," she sneered defiantly. "Wiser than the tides of the sea and broader than any ocean and its inhabitants below." Her voice hoarse, failing to contain the raw emotions within her.

"Tell me, master, what's the diagnosis of yours say?” Her voice was even louder now, urgent. “Or just remain distant like you always do!" Her lips shook as her breathing turned erratic. One thing was clear to the mage: This was a plea disguised as aggression, and it hurt him to see her that way.
"Go on. Say it." The words tore out of her like an animal escaping from a cage.

And Ozias? For a heartbeat, Ozias said nothing.

The silence was excruciatingly painful for the aasimar. Aurinka's hands trembled at her sides as her arms lowered themselves back, her right hand grabbing onto the garment of her legs as tightly as it could, her knuckles white as she couldn't feel the pain that she should've. Her chest hitched again and again, breathing shallow and uneven as she couldn't meet his eyes any more. She wanted to go now, take back all of it, but this was not a statement she could just take back. No. She just wants to run away, but she couldn't. Even if she tried, her legs would give out in the first place before her master could intervene and detain her.

Ozias finally exhaled, not a sigh of frustration, but something else. When he looked at her now, he wasn't calculating or measuring or second-guessing her decisions. He looked tired.

"You're not a problem I'm trying to fix, I am not going to reduce you to something like a diagnosis. I am trying to help you stand by yourself, Aurinka. Not for the crown. Not for him. Not even for my own peace of mind."

The young aasimar scoffed, louder this time. "How noble of you master." she spat at him, her index finger coming to support her as she pointed it at the white mage. "That must be so easy for you. You belong here. You always did." She took another step closer towards him, jabbing that same finger towards his chest as she looked up at him. "You don't know what it's like to wake up unsure if your thoughts are your own or not." the girl hissed with her voice breaking at its seams. "To hear his voice in your skull telling you how to stand, how to breath and how to be useful– or fear for what's to come if you don't heed his command."

The voice of the young girl fully broke then and there. All the restraint she had kept within her up until now, released itself in the form of every emotion possible. She clutched her hands at the seams of his black armour, blinking hard as the tears finally spilled free.

"I was forced here, I don't belong to that house, to the crown or anyone, and yet I can't do anything about it, except accept the rearranged pieces of mine and the ones the crown stitched into me." She swallowed slow, trying to subdue the tears and frustration boiling within her. "And you—" both of her hands fell to her sides, weak and useless, as she blankly stared at his chest. "You didn't have to be broken first. And I am not sure whether I should hate you for that or be glad for it." Her words were ugly, but raw and honest.

Ozias didn't touch her right away. " You're right. I don't know what that feels like. I don't." Aurinka's breathing hitched as she stared back up at him, noticing the conflicted expression on his face. "But don't mistake that for not seeing the turmoil you're going through and dismissing it. I am not." Finally, he reached out and put his hand on her head, petting it and brushing her hair to anchor her. The heat around Aurinka dimmed ever so slightly, without her even realising. "You fight it every day, don't you? The conditioning." Her knees threatened to buckle again, from the mention of him, but she was able to contain it for now. "Yes." Her voice was almost unintelligible, coming out more as a sob than a proper word.

"I didn't want you to know," she choked as the lump in her throat felt heavier than any metal in this plane combined. "I didn't want you to know, in fear of what you might do." The white mage crouched down to her height as he gave her a warm, approving smile. "You don't frighten me, and you don't disgust me, Aurinka."

"Then what are you going to do now?" she whispered, her fingers twitching as the nervousness kicked in, looking directly into her master's eyes. "Now that— now that you know that I don't belong to the crown. That I hate it. That I am a risk to you... and to myself."

Ozias pulled back just enough to look at the tear streaked, terrified face in front of him. "What I have always done." He replied casually, giving her the same smile he would always give after a lecture which seemed so self-evident to the mage, but more confusing than discerning a mimic from the real thing to the golden-haired girl. The smile she hated, but couldn't help but slightly smile back at. The great mage raised a hand, bending the weave with the ease of someone who had never needed to dominate it. Someone who can control it to its core. A spark of lights emerged from the residue of the weave, distracting the aasimar until a blast of cold air deemed to humble her blasted her hair into a puffy mess.

"I will teach you," he grinned at the now offended girl. "How to overcome and how to be safe. I promise." Aurinka stared at her master, eyes burning, her lips trembling. She was still broken, but she wanted to trust her master's words, she really did. So she will keep fighting and for the first time, she didn't feel alone while doing so.

The airship hummed beneath her boots. Not loudly, not urgently, just enough to know that they were moving forward through the sky. Aurinka stood near the railing, fingers curled around the cool metal, her gaze fixated on the endless path of clouds ahead. The sky was gentle today. For a moment, Aurinka let herself look back.

Ozias stood towards the rear of the deck, half-turned towards Lerlund, his posture relaxed as one hand rested on the ship's wheel much to Lerlund's misfortune, as he was the one steering. Barlast stood nearby, arms crossed, listening as the three of them tried to navigate the sky with a questionable strategy, which Aurinka didn't feel like figuring out by peering into their minds. Nonetheless, Aurinka's scoffed at the thought of doing so.

A bygone memory started sharping further as she heard someone's voice telling her how to breathe again. She didn't have to feel it any more. She was free now, reborn as a divine warlock, and though she couldn't have been happier, she didn't regret one moment with her distant master. She hadn't realised how long she'd been staring until a presence shifted beside her. She looked back to the sky before noticing the violet tiefling looking at her, who stopped just close enough to be felt. Her horns catching the light of the sun as her tail swayed right next to Aurinka.

"What were you looking at?" Rion asked softly, her tail brushing against Aurinka's calf. "Your face looks pretty solemn."

Aurinka blinked twice, the present snapped right back into place as she looked at the bard. "I was..." She hesitated, then exhaled, as if letting off a weight she didn't know she still had bound to her ankles. "Reminiscing."