Relic Heirs: Chapter Eighteen

Chapter 18: Home is Calling

When the fluttering flakes of blackened ash gently brushed the ground with feathered touch, the earth split and cracked, the plants withering to acrid dust before the sun fell on the eighth day. 

Briddy’s eyes opened, not from sleep, but yet another failed attempt at it. She had been staring into darkness all night, trying to find an answer in the shadows that played between the gap in the closed curtains of her bed’s canopy. The solid black had begun to fade into a light grey, signalling the sun’s arrival outside the four walls of fabric she had drawn around her. She stayed motionless, watching as the grey grew into yellow and listening to the sounds of stirring bodies around her. 

    With a sigh, she pushed herself up, dragging her sleep-deprived body through her daily routine of getting dressed and sliding her silver hairclip in. When she returned from the bathroom across the hall from the long dormitory, she found an envelope waiting for her in the mechanical clutches of the Keepedish. Nolan’s looping script was scrawled across the front, simultaneously sparking excitement and dread that shot all the way from her head to the tips of her toes. 

    She only hesitated for a moment, grabbing the letter in one hand and her borrowed bag in the other, tossing the strap over her shoulder. 

    “Morning, Bridget.” The slick-haired houseminder waved at her before turning to knock on the bedroom door. “Up and at ‘em greencoats” He barked, moving down the hall to knock at the other door. 

Pulling out the paper as she walked, Bridget looked down and braced herself. Flipping the message open, she scanned the opening lines, any excitement that had lifted her heart before now gone, leaving it to fall into dread’s grasping clutches. 

Briddy, 

Healing magic? Really? Why, out of all of the miraculous ways that you can shape the world, would you seek out the most mundane and skilless forms of magic? Any idiot that reads enough books can teach themselves most of what they need to heal, and yet you want to squander an entire education doing the same thing? I can’t even fathom whether this is a poor attempt at a joke, or if you’ve simply gone brain dead. Besides, you know how father feels about it, and haven’t you already incensed him enough? Remember, just because you’ve traipsed off to school doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t forced to live through the moods caused by his youngest daughter. 

Briddy folded the paper, leaving the message half-finished as she walked down the small set of sunken steps to the Palisade, and got into line behind a cluster of black-Shrouded upperclassmen to wait for her turn at the buffets that lined the left-hand side of the room. 

I’ve heard that school hasn’t been going the best for you, which is surprising considering the fact that you always managed to do well when you were younger. You may not be the most proficient, but you’re usually willing to do the extra work to still succeed. If Maistwel is willing to give you a shot at one of his “exclusive” healing classes (I mean, can you imagine being selective about such a mundane thing), you should be able to get into one of his more advanced magic courses with enough study. Focus your efforts there Briddy, and you might find yourself with a chance to succeed. 

Happy birthday by the way, but don’t spend too much time worrying about celebrating, you should be focusing on your studies. Mother wants me to remind you that you’re scheduled for a Shivercord call during your Midday break today, I would advise you to be prompt about it. 

Keep your clip in and stay out of trouble, 

Nolan

Bridget crumpled the paper up, shoving it into her bag and angrily grabbing at a plate. The wide array of different dishes piled high with fruit, meat, eggs, and cheese did nothing to whet her appetite. She almost turned away, but then her body groaned, reminding her that she needed food to get through the day, especially after the sleepless night before. 

She grabbed a chunk of crusty bread, some red berries, and a few rashers of bacon, trying not to take out her frustration on the food as she tossed it onto her plate. First Hennigan, now Nolan, and inevitably her mother later in the day, everyone was lecturing her like she was a child, telling her what to do, what she should choose, that she wasn’t trying hard enough. Having Nolan wax on at her about what path she should choose drove her up a wall, the thought that her little brother sought to tell her how to go about her future irking her with each step she took. 

It was easy for him to sit there and pen letters in his tower, wrapped in the secure blanket of incredible talent and their parent’s love. Briddy lacked both, and yet she was expected to follow the path laid before her all the same. She ate breakfast, barely noticing when Tuck and Gail joined her, soon shadowed by Asher and Warrin at the other end of the table, jokes and friendly conversation fluttering about like snowflakes in the air.

  Breakfast and classes blurred into each other, and all Briddy could bring herself to feel was detachment. Her teacher’s words seemed to slip in and out of her mind faster than the minute slid out of each hour. Nolan’s lecture, Henngian’s scolding, both seemed to taint every attempt she made at focusing on what was in front of her. She was unable to care, incapable of paying attention when none of it mattered since she would fail anyway. The path laid by her father, the bridges burned by her siblings, all of it was impossible for her to traverse. 

Even the happy moments, the ones spent in her friend’s company couldn’t penetrate the shell of numbness that surround Bridget’s thoughts. The smile she plastered on her face at Tuck’s horrible jokes slid away the moment no one’s eyes were on her, and the laugh that she offered to one of Gail’s jabs felt hollow and empty. Minutes seemed to last for seconds and eternity at the same time, her mother’s call slowly creeping ever closer. 

The fact that it was her birthday seemed like such an inconsequential thing in the face of her impending failure, her guaranteed demise if she couldn’t get past the wall that kept her and Vex apart. She knew one of the first things her mother was going to ask, and that she would have to sit there and explain that no, she still couldn’t succeed in the one thing she needed to in order to accomplish the goal her father had set. 

By the time that Mystic Comprehension finished, she shot up out of her desk, unable to look Maistwel in the eye, and was one of the first ones to shoot out of the classroom as he called out their homework ‘detailing spells known to affect the two hundred and twenty known variants’.

“Going somewhere special?” Asher’s voice was slightly breathless as he jogged to catch up, dark curls flopping with each loping stride. 

“Administration,” Briddy said in a clipped tone. “Not sure if you could call that special.” 

“If you’re going there, I’m sure it will be.” The boy offered a cheeky grin, eyes dancing. 

Shaking her head, Bridget kept walking, the retort she normally would’ve offered dying in her throat. Not even Asher’s flirtatious manner could banish the storm growing in her head, just as a leaf could not provide shelter from a hurricane. 

The alchemist jogged a few more steps to stand in front of her, stopping Briddy in her tracks. “Are you alright? You’ve been detached today. Distant even.” His bright eyes flicked over her. 

“It’s nothing.” Letting a small sigh out, she sidestepped him, continuing her way across the white stone paths that led to the Campus Administration building.

“Doesn’t seem that way.” He kept pace with her, leaning forward slightly. 

Briddy took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell him at least a little.“I-”

“Asher! Over here!” A nasal voice called out. The pair paused, looking over at where Niles was holding court with his cronies and Warrin. Waving furiously, the lancer still managed to shoot Bridget a look of disgust before looking back at Asher, a sickeningly sweet smile replacing it. 

Fighting the urge to return the look with one of her own, Briddy just looked down at her feet for a moment, and then back up at the rectangular building off ahead. 

“Have a good break, Asher.” She said, forcing cool neutrality to coat her words. 

“Briddy?”

“I’ll see you later.” Bridget shot him a fleeting smile. 

“Later then.” Giving her what she hoped was a regretful grin in return, Asher turned to lope his way over to Niles, whose whole group was now shooting glares at where Briddy stood, as though her very presence caused them great offense. She swallowed, attempting to put the sinking feeling in her stomach out of her mind, and forged her way onwards through the heavy heat. Behind her, she could hear the group calling out to Tuck, inviting him to come join them in whatever activity they had chosen to fill their time. 

Part of her wanted to go back, to force her way into spending time with her friends expressly because Niles still went out of his way to exclude and ostracize her. Passing the afternoon of her birthday with at least two people that wanted to be near her couldn’t be any worse than plodding her way to a call with her mother, counting each step with mounting dread. 

At the doors of the Administrative Building, she let herself get one last deep breath, the effect stifled by the dry air and suffocating heat that was slowly growing bolder as the midday moments waxed on. Entering, Briddy walked up to the windows at the back of the room, the familiar, skeletally thin man seated behind. 

“Hello?” She said, trying to catch his attention from the pile of paperwork that he was furiously scrawling on. The gaunt man didn’t look up, finishing the form he had been working on and immediately grabbing another. 

“Hello, I’m here for a Shivercord call with my mother?” Briddy tried again. 

Blinking, the secretary slowly began looking up at her, mouth flattening into a thin line of displeasure. “Name?” He said, drawing the word out. 

“Bridget Vasily.” 

Mouth drooping, the man pulled out a clipboard from under a stack of papers, running a thin finger down a short list. “Yes, room three should be open. No food, drink, or magic is allowed in the Shivercord booth, any violations will result in an immediate end to your call.” He waved a bony hand. “Forset.” 

On the wall opposite the one that held the Guidance Offices, a door sprung open, smoothly sliding to a stop before reaching its full arc. Seeing it move, the apprehension fled Briddy’s chest in a sudden exodus, leaving her feeling weak and deflated. “Thank you.” She managed to get out, slowly dragging her feet across the cool tile floor and towards the room.

There had been a time, when she was very little, where she could have rushed to her mother, laid her head on her lap, and cried about all of the things that weighed on her young mind. Ruba would have stroked her hair, murmuring reassurances that her father did love her, or Adelaide was just being difficult, and everything would seem right in the world, even if only for a moment. 

That had been before Bridget had grown up and ruined everything for her mother’s star children before Vex had dashed Ruba’s carefully laid plans to dust by choosing her weakest offspring. 

You’re no longer a little girl. A voice whispered in her mind, the steel within her fighting back against the longing. For once, Briddy agreed, and that thought gave her enough strength to at least hold her head up as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. 

Inside, a narrow room awaited her, reminding Bridget more of a large, repurposed closet than an actual room, though that was not to say that it wasn’t pleasantly decorated. A woven rug of bright colors covered the dark wooden planks of the floor, the tiles of the main building going no further than the door that led into the room. A chair was set up in the middle, a small round table with curved legs dutifully sitting nearby, both made of a pleasing cherry-red wood. The walls were covered in a deep purple color, an embellished golden border looping its way around the top and stopping next to the two globular lamps that hung on either side of the door, casting a soft glow on their surroundings.

Situated to the left-hand end of the room was a golden cord, stretched from floor to ceiling in a taut line. It was about as thick as Briddy’s index finger, and while it was currently inert, she could see the two gems attached at either end, winking at her with dark ruby facets. Swallowing, she reached out a hand, grasping the metal string and pulling it to the side as hard as she could. 

As soon as she released it, a deep, wavering thrum filled the room, briefly rattling her teeth as it began to soften in volume. Slowly, a glow began to creep up the shivering cord, leaving streaks of light in the air as it vibrated back and forth in rapid strokes. Backing away, Bridget ensconced herself on the high-backed chair, flicking the soft green of her Shroud out of the way and sitting up straight. 

The glow reached the center, a wide swath of shining light now carving through the air, and the deep tone of the hum began to rise, sliding from the tone of a bass note to an alto’s middling frequency. 

Clearing her throat, Bridget spoke clearly. “Bridget Vasily for Ruba Vasily.” Her mother should have already cast the spell, so all she needed to do now was wait. She tossed her horsetail over her shoulder, fiddling with the wisps of hair that had escaped it and curled slightly in the desert heat. Sliding the rebellious strands underneath her silver clip, she looked up to see the streaks of light left by the quivering cord slowly solidifying into a familiar head and torso. 

Her mother’s long, dark curls came into focus first, the rest of her delicate face slowly being painted into the air by the Shivercord’s quick motions, and the single, unwavering note that emanated from it began to fluctuate, slowly forming into Ruba’s words. 

“Good afternoon, Bridget.” The image’s mouth moved as Briddy’s mother spoke, capturing each movement in real time and broadcasting it to the room she sat in. 

“Hi, mom.” She couldn’t keep the apprehension out of her voice, especially when her mother’s gaze immediately began cutting back and forth, taking in every aspect of her appearance for future criticism. 

“You seem dishevelled, were you napping before this?” 

“No, it’s hot outside.” Bridget unconsciously began fussing with her shirt, tugging on it to try and remove any visible wrinkles. 

“Your brother never had any issues with the heat.” Ruba’s image said derisively. 

Briddy couldn’t help but let out a small snort. “Nolan also carries around a brush with him everywhere he goes.” 

“Perhaps you should follow his example. The impression you put out into the world matters, especially to your peers.” Her mother raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Have you managed to work out your issues with your father’s relic yet?” 

Any small mirth Bridget had felt at her brother’s expense vanished, sliding away in a cold swipe that ran from her chest to stomach. “No.” 

“Ah.” Ruba didn’t seem surprised by the answer, full lips pursing in clear disapproval. 

“I’m doing everything I can,” Briddy said, shrinking slightly under the look her mother fixed her with. 

“Everything? Really?” Ruba drew out the word, letting each syllable drip with sardonic intonation. “Your Relic Mastery teacher would beg to differ.” The image of her mother’s chest and head shook slightly as her hand appeared, holding a creased piece of paper that she began to read off of. “Bridget shows little to no effort in her studies, no willingness to change or practice the discipline needed to bear a relic, or indeed, even the ability to summon it.” She snapped the paper shut, looking at her daughter as though she had caught her in a lie. 

A long sigh escaped Briddy as she grappled with her internal annoyance, her frustration boiling up to bring a flush to her cheeks. “Hennigan hates me, thanks to Adelaide.” 

“You can’t blame your sister for everything, Bridget.”

“She threw an axe at him! How is that my fault?”

“I’m just saying, you need to work harder and that will speak for itself.” Ruba put the paper back down, out of sight. 

“He refuses to teach me whatsoever! I’m just stuck in the middle of the room doing the same thing day in and day out, expecting it to change when I receive no guidance on how I’m actually supposed to accomplish that.” Briddy threw her hands up. 

Instead of responding, the image of Ruba’s face seemed to get closer as her mother leaned in. “There are circles under your eyes. Are you not sleeping properly?” The question sounded more like an accusation than a statement of concern. 

"I haven't been feeling well. Class has been..taxing? I suppose, I-" Briddy found herself cut off before she could continue. 

"Well you're obviously depressed again, and being back in school has just gotten you into a bad environment. You know ever since you were little…" 

Briddy stopped listening to her mother’s lecture, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want to hear about how sick and weak she was as a child, she wanted her mother to see that she was, in fact, trying her best. Maybe this time she would get that through to her. "Mom do you ever-" 

"And then there was the whole debacle with your brother and the school… and you really just shut down, because you were hurt that it wasn’t about you." 

"Mom! I don’t care whether or not it was about me. Do you think the issue here is that you-" 

"Bridget, calm down, your voice is breaking again. Just because you're upset doesn't mean that screaming at me will help." Ruba’s dark brows creased together. 

Bridget swallowed hard. Her throat hurt, but not as badly as her heart. Nothing she did was ever good enough.  "Mom, I'm trying to speak and you won't let me!" 

"All you're doing is yelling." Her mother waved a slim hand in dismissal, her image wavering with the motion. 

Chest burning, Briddy searched for words. Was it so bad to desire to be heard? To have her mother see her for who she was rather than decide that for her?

"Mom," She said, slamming as much emphasis into that word as she could in one deep breath. 

"What is it? Mom, mom, mom! Spit it out then" 

This had to work. It felt like she was putting every broken shard of the voice she'd never had together, forcing as much meaning and power into the words as possible. 

"Mom, you're not listening. You never have." The words left her mouth in a bitter echo, the tone as wet as her cheeks behind a transparent frame of glass. 

Silence waited alongside her tears lacing in response or comfort. 

"....Mom?" 

A sigh, deep and heavy, echoed through the connection. 

"Sweetie. You just don't know how to communicate. When you fell ill as a child-" 

The only thing that told Briddy she had stood was the chair clattering backward against the ground as she strode across the room, her hand shooting out to grab the vibrating cord. It smacked painfully against her fingers as they closed tight around it, and she could feel the connection begin to falter. As her hand closed into a fist, she felt the magic sever altogether, alongside her heart, the pieces falling apart as the cord thrummed to a halt with a final, damning note of deep closure. 

It didn’t matter. No matter what she did, how she tried to word it, or what actions she took, her parents didn’t care. They would tell her who she was and how she could feel and expect that to be the end of it. She wasn’t her own person, capable of having an opinion or receiving respect. Trying to work her way through the cracks in the barrier that they had built was a fruitless endeavor, especially when she had nothing to offer them except to be used as a pawn in their plans.  She wasn’t a star that would rise to the heavens, so her fate was to be pinned to the ground under their boot. 

Afternoon smudged into evening, classes blending in a rushing collage of muted colors and sounds that couldn’t pierce through the cocoon of pain that wrapped Briddy’s mind. 

“Just keep it together.” She told herself. “Just get through.”

  She didn’t understand why it still hurt this much, why she kept trying after years of failing to be seen, or heard. Why their opinions still mattered after what they had tried to do to her. By the time she reached her dormitory and stepped into the long room, the tears began flowing without her even noticing, though it no longer mattered.

Now she could crawl inside the canopy of her bed, curling up and letting the pain shake her body with each quiet sob until sleep came to claim the weight that threatened to crush her, gently closing her tear-soaked eyes.