Relic Heirs: Epilogue

Epilogue: Nothing Ever Stays the Same

Then, with a single step, she was gone; leaving the world to begin anew amidst the stone bones of her pale, fallen sister.

Across their many retellings of their heroic exploits at school, Adelaide and Nolan had sure seen fit to leave a lot out. Especially, Bridget was finding, about the parts that came after. Like how bone-dead-tired you felt, and all the questions, (Sculptor, the number of questions) or how the amount of times you have to tell the story over and over makes your tongue go so numb it forgets how to form words. They also conveniently forgot to mention the bit where every single person feels like it’s their personal right to come up and offer their opinions on what you did and how you did it.

Worst of all, they had neglected to mention all the yelling.

“You call this a school?” A blonde woman roared over the din, her sleeveless arms missing Bridget’s face so narrowly that she could taste their heat in the air buffeting afterwards. The second morning since the slaughter had barely blinked open its weary eyes before a new invasion flooded the campus. Briddy had heard the cries first, a cascade of children’s names pouring out of the copper-domed Hall of Doors before washing through the school. Within minutes, legends and myths stalked the halls, flashing weapons while peering into dark corners and empty closets as if the Strange creatures might be hiding in unwatched shadows.

As though guided by her silent will, the sea of stern, stressed parents crashed their way into Terna’s sun-washed office, chattering and yelling over each other in turn. The headmistress remained behind her desk, impassively guarding a covered lump on the ground behind her and refusing to admit anyone near. Bridget, who had been summoned to Administration after breakfast, froze when the door swung open ten minutes into the meeting. With a long, loud creak, the wood announced the arrival of latecomers, and Ruba’s high laugh parted the crowd better than hands ever could.

A rush of different emotions sent Bridget’s heart thudding. They had come. But why? Had her struggles against the Strange creatures made them finally see her worth? Did they read her letters? Briddy’s stomach leapt and dropped in turns, like a ball thrown into the air and left to drop into a canyon.

She realized, however, that she needn’t have worried. Titanium Kerr and Ruba Wrathbringer swept past their daughter without a word, leaving her to watch as her parents warmly greeted some guildmates before taking the few seats available against the opposite wall.

Standing alone against the tide, the sole rock against which the waves of worry broke, Terna loudly cleared her throat before splaying her hands across the surface of her dark desk. “As I was saying, our term ends today and we have tightened security while you take your children home–”

“Security my foot!” Warrin’s father bellowed.

“You let our children be attacked!” Someone cried.

Terna forged on, unruffled.“By next year, adjustments will be made to ensure that–

“Next year?” Someone’s brunette mother scoffed. “Next–after the last time–”

A man sitting against the wall opposite Bridget choked out a sob. “My baby is dead!

There was a short pause in the din, as yelling lulled to murmured condolences, and then the angry murmurs fizzled over once again. Kicking her heel into the glass of Terna’s trophy wall, Briddy let it all wash over her. It was impressive, really, how many people managed to cram into the room. Any other day and the crush of bodies might’ve been suffocating, squeezing all of the air out of an already stifling office. Today, they provided the perfect buffer, a wall of cloth, flesh, and righteous anger separating Briddy from having to look upon the left side, and the pair perched in Terna’s sitting chairs.

This will pass. Vexela tickled at her periphery. Just a little longer now.

Inhaling a breath that sent her chest shuddering, Bridget gave a polite nod to what must’ve been the hundredth parent to come up to her today. Just a little longer. Then to her friends, outside.

“Have you been to the dunes?” The stately, round-bellied man asked. “I heard yesterday was…healing for many.”

She gave a tight-lipped shake of her head, glancing left out of the corner of her eye. They didn’t even look at me. Mutely, the tall man’s words formed around some other lamentation, question, or congratulation, and Briddy felt her neck creak as she gave a nod. He paused, looking confused, and then walked away. In the space cleared by his absence, she was given a brief, direct line of sight to the opposite side of the room, just in time to see the golden vambrace tightly clamped around her father’s arm. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes traveled over the seamless, embellished metal, and up the knotted muscle above. Titanium Kerr’s brows were tied together with stormy clouds as he listened to Parvati’s mother speak, dull embers of rage baking in his eyes.

Bridget felt her body tensing, as if readying for his fists to start swinging, and tore her gaze away. The urge to dash out of the office and all the way back to her dorm began to fill her, and Briddy wondered how far she would get before–

“OUR DEFENSES WERE PERFECT.” Terna’s raised voice cut through the din as though she had slammed a fist into her desk. General attention turned to the diminutive woman, her helmet of grey hair shining in the light from the enormous window behind her. A great, twitching lump was covered by black cloth between the desk and the glass, which none of the crowd had been allowed to stray near.

“Our defenses were perfect,” The headmistress repeated, nostrils flaring. “For what we had seen before.”

Glowering, the bare-armed woman from earlier pushed to the front. “Well, clearly not!”

Terna straightened, pursing her lips. “Do go on, Fern. We were all unaware we stood in the presence of an expert.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to-”

“I’m sure both school and the Teradish Coalition will be fascinated to know why you haven’t shared your knowledge up to now…”

The woman threw her hands up. “You know that I’ve never seen the cursed things before!”

“--and neither has the school.” Terna finished coldly, before the appendages could fall. “So I’m glad we all understand that we are forging into uncharted territory.”

An undercurrent ran through the adults and tightened shoulders began to droop, with eyes sinking towards shuffling feet. Briddy had to bite back a small smile. As long as it wasn’t directed at her, Terna’s effect on students, even graduated ones, was amusing to behold.

“But then…what now?” Sickeningly sweet, a voice slipped through the crowd. There was a pause, and then a purposeful tsk of the tongue. “All I’ve really heard you say about this tragedy is that it’s not your fault and there’s nothing you could have done.” Dull, angry eyes flicked towards the head of the room, and angry agreement began rumbling under muttered breaths. “Children are dead, Terna.”

Bridget’s hackles raised at the shallow concern she heard in sincerity’s stead. If you knew her, Ruba’s enjoyment was barely disguised. She glanced over and was shocked to find the Headmistress taking a deep breath, as if similarly ruffled.

“Now,” Terna exhaled, “I will tell you what we do know.”

With a crack, the headmistress snapped her fingers, sending the black cloth flying off the twitching mass behind her. At the same time, Terna spoke in a crisp, sterile tone, as though barking a lecture at the entire room: “Two nights ago, our campus was invaded by over thirty targets of an unknown species of monstrosity.” Revealed underneath the covering was a long, articulated leg of glittering black, its facets still sluggishly shifting. A cry of alarm rippled through the crowd, with more than one relic shimmering into ready hands.

Several parents surged forward, angrily opening their mouths–

Terna raised a hand. “And you’re wondering how.”

“Obviously.” The dignified man from earlier sneered. “Wouldn’t you?”

The only acknowledgement the headmistress gave him was the cold quirk of an eyebrow as she smoothly turned to the right. “Miss Vasily?” She said, sweeping her arm towards the spasming limb. “If you could show them what you showed me last night, please.”

Like she had stepped outside into the scorching afternoon of the desert, Briddy felt the collective attention of those assembled swing first towards her, secondly to the mismatched length of her hair, and then lastly to the series of scuff marks she had left on Terna’s trophy case. Without lifting her head, Bridget peered back at them through her eyelashes. A sudden reluctance seized her, knowing who was present, knowing what she would be sharing with them.

Pressure crushed at her chest, urging her to perform, to hold herself together. Unbidden, Briddy glanced at the door, wishing she was outside with the people waiting for her.

You’re not alone. Vexala soothed.

“Miss Vasily?”

Bridget’s eyes returned to Terna, and she pushed off the wall. Stone seemed to weigh at her body as she moved through the throng of adults, all staring with invasive curiosity. Finally, she reached the headmistress’s desk, feeling, as ever, like she was approaching her own execution. Coming to a stop before the dark expanse, Briddy stared dully at the separated leg.

Even without the great tan folds of the convulsing sac, she could perfectly recall the whole of the creature it belonged to, hear the snicking of its pointed tip as it cut into unwilling flesh–

“Get on with it girl, it’s not going to bite you.” The first words that she had heard from her father in months shuddered through the crowd, knocking free a few wry chuckles here and there. Every hurt she had hidden in the dark recesses of forgotten spaces fell free, cracking sharp. Kerr hadn’t even bothered to see if she was alright, let alone learn what she knew of these things. How would he know the danger they posed?

A flash of white-hot fury consumed Bridget so fast that she thought Nolan’s clip had gone off again, for a moment. Then her mind caught up to her arm, which was already rising in a graceful arc, and the shape of the soundless word her lips curled around.

Vexela?

Bridget.

Shining mist revealed a vambrace of dazzling golden scales, brilliant in the light from Terna’s enormous window. Admiring murmurs bubbled up behind her, but Bridget forced her focus onto her relic, whose pieces lifted off her arm with fluttering motions before swivelling towards the black shape on the office floor.

With delicate precision, Bridget directed Vexela’s bits to hover over the quivering limb and looked over at Terna for permission. After letting their anticipatory audience sit in silence for several moments, the headmistress slyly slid her eyes over and nodded. The pieces dove, flattening themselves against the uneven facts of the shivering leg like enormous, golden leaves.

In front of the desk, Briddy flexed her fingers, and golden pressed into black, the seams between threatening to disappear.

“Our outer wards are cast so that any unknown creature that crosses them, monstrosity or human, will trigger them off. Once activated, the campus is quarantined in slices, keeping the threat to the initial infraction point.” Terna’s voice took on the harsh, barking tone of a lecturer. “As best we can tell, these…creatures… came from all around, at once, and took advantage of the only exception we built into the defenses.”

The leg began to lift into the air, solely under the guidance of Vexela’s pieces.

Terna cleared her throat, jaw flexing as though she were chewing on her next words. “That being, an assurance that relic-bearing alumni could always seek asylum at the school, even after leaving its halls. An assurance that most of you are aware of already.”

Ringing silence resounded, as Bridget slowly flexed the long, black leg into a straight line, eight feet in the air.

“What do you-” Someone began.

“Are you mad?”

“Now hold on…” Fern said thoughtfully.

“Can you seriously expect us to believe what you’re suggesting, Terna?” The pointy-faced man exploded. Shouts cascaded over each other in an unintelligible rush, and Bridget shrank against the desk as the enraged parents grew near. Overhead, the glittering leg wobbled dangerously, the golden scales slipping in their grip. Suddenly, a firm hand gripped Bridget’s free arm, guiding her around the desk to stand at Terna’s side.

“I expect you to believe what you see.” The headmistress barked. “And let that sink sense into your heads, if nothing else will.” Glowering back at her in silence, the crowd of parents awaited her next words. After letting them sit for a while, she began again. “Got it out of your system have you? Good.” Nostrils flaring wide, Terna made a quarter turn and gestured to the levitating limb. “Yes. At our best guess, these…” She paused for a moment.

“Strange.” Bridget supplied, out of the corner of her mouth. Rather than face the mob, she kept her body, and focus, turned toward the lifted leg.

“...bizarre monstrosities are not made of flesh or bone, but the same metal as our Relics.”

Shouts cropped up, threatening to overwhelm the headmistress’ sterile tone as she continued: “Our examination of the corpses have yielded similar results; they possess no organs save a vestigial sac, connecting multiple limbs made of this metal, no blood except molten material of the same sort.”

A great shudder ran through the long line of dark metal that Vexela’s scales supported mid-air, as though it knew Terna was talking about it.

“How is it still moving?” Someone muttered.

“We don’t know, yet.” Terna chewed at the words. “Doctor Gektu believes–”

“More to the point.” Ruba cut in, “How was this possible?”

“That’s been answered,” Terna stated flatly. “Do you need someone to explain it to you using simpler terms?”

High, bouncing peals of laughter burst out from behind Bridget’s back. She gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to look back at her mother, or up at Terna. Did the headmistress hear the trap lying beneath the cackle?

The laughs slowed to a throaty purr. Fabric rustled with shocked whispers to signal Ruba rising from her seat as she cooed: “No, Terna, dear.” Each word was separate, distinct, and felt like a slap. “Speaking as a concerned parent, what I need,” Bridget sensed her mother draw close, “Is for you to explain how this travesty was possible. For you to be right, and this…thing to be some unknown species made from relics, of all things,” Lowering to velvet soft, Ruba’s voice still managed to fill the room. “Well it begs the question of who made them, doesn’t it?”

Air escaped Terna’s nostrils in a long, sharp hiss. Briddy was fairly sure that if the headmistress was a kettle, she might’ve seen fit to boil. Bridget hated that her mother raised a good question, though. There hadn’t been an addition to the two-hundred and twenty species in known memory, and if someone had actually made these things, that meant they knew how to get them into the school and–

“Let it go.” The headmistress ordered.

“What did you just say to–” Ruba began.

“An excellent job, Miss Vasily.” Terna abruptly turned a shoulder to face the huntress. “You can let it go. You’re already displaying magnificent control over the minutiae of your relic’s new form.”

Jolting to attention, Bridget let the leg drift toward the ground, basking in the rare praise. She was halfway between floor and ceiling when a sudden absence cut through her pulsing connection to Vexela’s scales. Confusion mixed with panic, and Briddy flung out her will like she had before. Had Asher somehow broken in and thrown another magnetic amalgam? No, it didn’t feel like they were being attracted away, they were being called–She crashed against an iron sheet of pure intent walling her way, and her command shattered against it in surprise.

In the brief second when they made contact, Bridget found herself struck by the cruel clarity of recognition. As the limb thudded the rest of the way to the floor, her head turned to face the mountain of a man reclining in Terna’s chair, his massive arms crossed. It really was you. Her heart twinged, mourning the betrayal even before Vexela vanished from her forearm, only to reappear in a rush of gold in the same spot on her father. Sickly shame prickled at Briddy’s neck and cheeks, igniting the embers that slept there.

Her eyes snapped up, meeting the cold, dark stare of Titanium Kerr. Amidst the murmuring crowd of reactions, a silent, swift battle ensued. Bridget called to the relic, feeling its touch flow toward her, only to be yanked away and walled off at the last second. She would scrabble, smash, and tear through the barrier, only to find another erected behind it, more ironclad than the first. After a few moments, the only progress she made was the depth of disapproval measured against disgust in her father’s gaze. This close, his control engulfed hers like the night devours the hopeless pinprick of a match, and as she failed to even hear Vexela reply, Bridget finally understood what that sharp look was telling her:

“Make all the progress you want, but this is not yours.”

Another hurt crashed onto the pile of broken feelings collecting inside her. She would always be a disappointment to him, wouldn’t she?

“That will be all, Miss Vasily.” Terna intervened, gesturing toward the door at the other end of the crowd.

Bridget’s lips parted. She wanted to hear the next bit about who made these things. Then, she heard a deep, gravelly throat clearing itself behind her, as though telling her to shut up and get out. Flinching slightly, she closed her mouth and began circling the desk.

“And Miss Vasily?” Terna’s authoritative tone cracked like a whip.

Briddy looked back. Had she forgotten something?

Terna a’Tyr stood ramrod straight, hands tucked behind her back while the sun illuminated her like the flame to a wick. “Palanquin University thanks you for your service in its defense. Multiple students owe their lives to your early warnings and efforts in subduing our invaders. We look forward to your bright future within our halls.”

There was a tsk. “Are you that desperate to spin the situation, Terna?” Ruba cooed. “Where were these thanks when Nolan and Adelaide actually risked their lives for you? I happen to know you owe the integrity of this entire building to them putting a stop to that Graveelk stampede two years back, and all they ever received were lectures and lifelong bans.”

Bridget let her head swing toward her mother in disbelief. Her eyes glossed over the dark curls and bright eyes before landing on the sardonic twist of her red lips, daring her to correct the statement in front of all these people. Sharp points dug like broken glass into Briddy’s heart. Ruba was so skilled at immediately undermining everything Bridget had sacrificed, everything she had been through.

Familiar rage burned at the corners of Briddy’s eyes as she bit her tongue. What was the use of starting a family argument in the middle of a crowded room?

A vein twitched near the headmistress’ temple, as though the mere mention of Bridget’s siblings brought her pain. “Your elder children caused the majority of problems that they then solved. If young Mr Vasily hadn’t opened an unsanctioned portal to the western wilds, those Graveelk wouldn’t have been on campus in the first place.” Bridget’s mother began to reply, but Terna continued, talking over her so slowly that the first words could’ve been considered a drawl. “Though, speaking as a headmistress of thirty-seven years, Ruba, if you afforded all of your children the same level of concern that you’ve shown for dramatics here today, perhaps they wouldn’t find themselves in these situations so… often?”

A loud scoff burst back, and Bridget chose that moment to make good on her dismissal, slipping her way through the rest of the faceless crowd before she had to listen to her mother publicly list Bridget’s many, detailed faults that made her unworthy of love. Within blessed seconds, the door was closing behind her with a click, and her lungs filled with fresh, unbreathed air.

“Hey, trouble. How was it?” Gail detached from her reclination against the nearby wall, eyes creased with worry. “What did they say? Are you alright?”

Sniffling, Bridget wiped her sweaty face and nodded. “Like we thought, they’re sending us home.”

“As though they could finish out the year with the lovely arrangement in the dunes hanging over them.”

Briddy stayed quiet, keeping her eyes on the stones of the Administration flooring.

“Did they say when?” Gail began gently shepherding her toward the entrance.

“Today,” Bridget said numbly.

She felt Gail’s chin bob in silent acknowledgement. “Did your parents ever–”

“No.”

“You can still come back with me, if you want.”

Briddy looked her over, different emotions flashing through her. They both knew she couldn’t accept the offer, but it was still dangling there, simultaneously making her feel better and worse. “Where are Asher and Tuck?” She asked, squinting as they stepped outside.

“Tracking down the rest of the Sanlaurent clan.” Gail waved a hand. “They got bored, and Warrin’s dad already pulled him from the school so–”

“They just left?” Bridget stared at her.

“Well, they said to come find them after you got out...”

Briddy tried to hide her disappointment as a group of older students walked past, goggling at them over their shoulders.

“...And I might’ve encouraged the idea,” Gail admitted.

Becoming keenly aware of the heat trickling from the arm that looped through hers, Bridget’s mouth went dry. “Oh?” She managed, brilliantly.

Gail returned a feral grin, full of teeth. “Yeah.” She said, the word stranded somewhere harsh and husky before she cleared her throat. “We haven’t really talked…since.”

Briddy came to a halt, looking up at her in apprehension. “There’s been a lot of talking.” Nothing but talking in fact. Recounting to the teachers, to other students, listening to opinions, scoldings and theories…

Behind them, the doors to Administration flung open, releasing a swarm of buzzing parents onto the white-stone paths. Briddy’s eyes briefly followed a pair of mountainous shoulders as they stalked away, not even turning to look for her.

“Not with us.” Gail’s arm twined tighter, bringing Bridget’s side crushing against hers. “Not with me. Especially not with you avoiding every group gathering. You’ve talked to the teachers, and Terna, and the upperclassman but…” She let the rest of the words die. “Why didn’t you come to the dunes yesterday?”

Briddy pulled away a little. “What do you want me to say, Gail?”

“You don’t have to say anything just…” Gail bit down on her lip, brows creasing as she searched for the words. “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t pull away. Or detach, disappear, whatever it is you do when you’re hurting like this.” Gail’s fingers gently slipped under her chin, tilting it up. “You aren’t the only one that was there that night. Pain isn’t something that’s only yours.”

Briddy looked back at her, laid flayed and fragile with only a few words. She could see Gail, splayed underneath mutating limbs that sliced into her red, living flesh, smell the coppery tang of her blood as it spattered wetly across the front of her body. Her vision began to shake, smearing with orange and yellow blurs of magical firelight that weren’t there.

“I wish you hadn’t.” Breaking like waves on craggy rocks, Bridget’s voice sounded distant. “If I hadn’t frozen, then–”

A puff of air cut her off, and Gail clamped her lips around a scoff. Her fingers left Bridget’s chin, lifting to ruffle through the uneven chunks of shorn hair like it was tall grass in the wind. They returned to walking, heading for a large crowd outside the bronze-domed hall of doors.

“If we could escape the violence that relentlessly pursues those of us just trying to live, we would never learn the meaning of the word ‘survival’.” Gail’s eyes were distant for a moment, before suddenly snapping to Briddy’s with quiet intensity. “I was wrong, you know. About your relic.”

“Huh?”

“It wasn’t broken. When it came out of that thing… I saw you.”

Bridget’s heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the slow, leisurely pace that carried them past the Insular Tower. “Well I was standing right above–”

“You were radiant, Briddy.”

The heat in Gail’s eyes ignited a flame that raged across Bridget’s cheeks, consuming the breath from her chest. Her mind went blank with a fizzy, numb feeling that blotted out the intruding memories, replacing them with the desire to be there, in the moment, to experience what came next.

“You know, I didn’t think you were awake for most of it.” Briddy’s mouth fought to keep from twisting.

Gail leaned in a little as a couple of parents rushed past, eyes scanning their surroundings in seeking sweeps. “Awake enough to hear what you promised me.” Her breath tickled at Briddy’s ear.

“I–well that wasn’t–it didn’t mean…” Bridget started three different sentences at once and then gave up on all of the attempts after Gail started chuckling to herself.

“Sure it didn’t.” She snorted, shaking her head.

A small commotion went up behind them, parents shouting with relief as they spotted children alive and waiting. Without warning, Gail hooked a sharp left into the Insular Tower and pulled Briddy into an empty hallway. Returning to her thoughts, Bridget let them spill out as they moved.

“And, you know, I thought I was crazy, but I did see them at the Guildhunt! But why didn’t they attack, then? What were they doing there?”

“They’re the next evolution of nightmares. Who’s to say?” Gail sounded distracted as she looked down the vacant passage.

Bridget followed her gaze for a second, momentarily confused. “Is that what you’re running with? Evolution?”

Shrugging, Gail fiddled with the neckline of Bridget’s Shroud. “We change. Why wouldn’t they?”

“It was brought up in Terna’s meeting that someone might have made them.” Bridget slowly revealed.

Gail’s face went blank with shock, and she fell quiet. Bridget felt awful even entertaining the idea that someone would create monstrosities when keeping the normal ones in their cages was nigh impossible under the best circumstance. She pursed her lips, a thought more terrible occurring from that.

“You know how they never really caught whoever let those monstrosities loose mid-year?”

The grim expression on Gail’s face flickered with confusion. “Are you saying that’s where they got these things from?”

“What?” Bridget shook her head, leaning up against the cool stone of the wall. “No, the wards. They activated, remember?” Gail slowly dipped her chin in acknowledgement. “Could the breakout have been an excuse to test the security?”

Closing the distance between them with a step, Gail hesitated. “It’s possible, but–”

Bridget took what she could get. “And the teachers couldn’t figure out how a couple of schoolboys melted through all those high-security locks and spells on the cages…?”

“Briddy…” Gail drew closer, an odd look in her eyes.

“...Because they didn’t do it!”

Before Bridget could continue with her theories, a thumb slipped over her lips, then a mouth, holding them for a sweet, single second before the contact broke apart. Taking a small, sharp, inhale, Briddy looked up Gail with many wordless questions.

“I care about you.” Gail’s hazel gaze was soft. “Deeply.” A muscle twitched at the corner of her jaw, and her eyes flicked away. “And I know I’m not the only one.”

“Wha-wait a moment–” Briddy started.

“No. Just–” Gail took a deep breath, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Stop thinking for a moment, and listen. All I’m trying to say is, ‘I know what you’re going back to at home and, that, if you need me, I’m here’.”

A warm buzz filled Bridget as Gail kissed her again, drowning out the thoughts that struggled to form. It was only after they broke apart again that she realized the noise she was hearing wasn’t just a sensation, but a growing cacophony emanating through the doors.

“You hear that too?” Gail said.

Briddy nodded, growing tense.

Looking at each other in puzzlement, the girls headed for the source.

Outside, and through the doors, a chorus of ‘Gail’ was ringing over and over. The sound collided and overlapped with such forceful frequency that it very well could have been a gale of its own. Briddy found herself pulled toward the center, her wrist firmly caught in Gail’s grasp. Her mind was still whirling with a flood of new horizons and kisses that tasted like honey when the first blur of colored silk darted in.

“Gail!” It squeaked.

Bridget flinched, Vexela’s bracer of golden scales already layering into place onto her arm as more, larger streaks of color and fabric rushed towards them, crying out–

“Gail! Gail! GAIL!”

Before either of them could even twitch, the tall girl had disappeared under a pile of silks and bodies, her limbs sticking out at odd angles like a scarecrow’s. Their hands separated, and panic roared through Bridget’s chest. She lurched forward, scales bristling like a startled creature. Gail’s dark head reappeared, splitting with a wide grin as she pinned a smaller, wriggling mass under her arm. Her expression dampened as a pair of older women draped themselves around her, sobbing in relief.

“You’re wet, Mom.” She muttered, leaning into the embrace. “And sticky.”

A small parade of younger children flowed around Bridget, lanky teens dangling plump toddlers from their backs that giggled as they pushed past the curtain of her Shroud. All of them collapsed in a mound around her friend, babbling and clutching at her in excitement.

Watching them, Briddy let her arm fall, sickened with realization as Vexela turned to shimmering mist.

You’re still raw. Her relic soothed.

I was about to attack them. Bridget took a step back, and then another. I was going to use you to hurt Gail’s family. Horror ripped her apart from head to toe. What kind of a monster would use a relic against children? The giggles emanating from the pile seemed to buffet her away, reminding Briddy she didn’t belong.

“At least it’s not all tears, here.” Asher’s smile sounded so far away that she jumped when his fingers brushed her elbow. How long had he been there? “I left Tuck in a veritable swamp.”

Swallowing at the hard lump in her throat, Briddy managed to eke out a “Yeah.” She couldn’t take her eyes off Gail, drowning in a sea of affection.

“Come on,” Taking her arm, Asher began to gently guide her away. “Let’s get out of here.”

Briddy let him lead her off toward the dorms, though she couldn’t help the occasional glance over her shoulder at the puddle of people behind her.

“They’re sending us home, then?” Asher prompted.

She nodded.

His eyes searched her face for a moment before he continued. “Anything else?”

“Terna confirmed the relic theory.”

Asher sucked his teeth with a sharp click. “That’ll cause quite the uproar.” He murmured.

They cleared a copse of trees, emerging into the shady dirt area between Honor House and the woods. Gone were the bent light posts and broken doors, and the glittering carpet of glass was already pieced back into Courage’s panes across the way. The only mark left remaining was a swirl of dark brown in the dirt, hastily raked over in the service of keeping up appearances.

Asher slowly sank against a tree, waiting as Briddy joined him. Together, they silently held vigil as several greencoats left the house, sheltered under the watchful eye of their families.

“Have you been to the dunes…?”

“Where are yours?” Bridget answered his question with one of her own, jutting her chin toward Gemma clinging to her parent’s arms.

Asher hugged himself as though he were cold, despite the heat. “Dunno. It’s a toss-up whether they remembered to check the Keepedish the past few days.”

Briddy exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Asher.”

“Don’t be.” His lips turned white as he pressed them together in a bitter line. “Teradish’s research is important.”

“So are you.”

“You’re one to talk.” He leaned back, the momentary flash of pain hidden behind a cool mask.

Bridget shut her mouth and gave him a long, grey-steeled stare. “What is it?” She said cautiously, breaking first.

“Lecturing me about being important when you throw your life away like you’re not.”

She groaned. “Not you too.”

He held up his hands. “I’m pointing out the irony.”

Briddy sighed. This again?

“When Gail was pinned, and I couldn't help…”

“We did what we had to.” Her voice came out harsher than intended. “Do we really need to relive it again right now?

“Yes! What were you thinking?” He pulled her around to face him, face knit into a frown. “You risked everything, on what, a feeling?” She felt his fingers dig into her arms. “Briddy, you were a breath’s edge from death and you gambled your life when you could’ve run.”

Asher’s words struck her like a slap to the face. Who did he think she was, Niles? “For yours,” Bridget said deliberately, ignoring the look he gave her. “And Gail’s.”

He emitted a small huff.

Bridget grabbed a handful of his shirt. “Do you think I wasn't aware, Asher? That every second, each breath could be my last? Did you think I didn't believe that was worth the risk if it meant either of you lived? “

Her voice caught, realizing she was nearly shouting. She massaged at the soreness in her throat, looking up at him. This wasn’t the first fight the two of them had about her methods, (despite what Gail claimed about Bridget not speaking to anyone) and somehow, she doubted it would be the last. Heavy breaths filled a strained silence overlaid by furtive looks, each waiting for the other to speak.

Bridget broke first, releasing the tension hurting her brow with one, deep exhale. "I knew, Asher. I still know. None of this changes that I did it anyways. You can't make me regret that."

Something softened in the corners of his eyes, a hint of a familiar twinkle returning.

“I’m not trying to make you regret it,” Asher said, trailing his finger over her arm. “I just don’t want to live through watching yourself away on stupid chances.” He looked up at her, piercing through. “I don’t want to lose you because you don’t value your life. You’re worth more than what you can provide.”

Before she could think about it too much, Bridget immediately ignored him, taking a different chance. Tugging forward on the fistful of shirt she still held, she pulled him into her, because that was easier than accepting his words. Asher’s lips found hers with smiling surprise, and together, they forgot their pain for a moment. When he had ended their first quarrel this way, it had been a surprise. Three or four times in row, and it was starting to become a pattern.

In the moments after, Briddy curled against his chest, realizing she had plucked twice now from a fragile orchard she had no business playing in.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, head tucked under his chin. “For all of it.”

He hugged her closer. “It’s not your fault.”

Bridget’s lips separated, a breath carrying the confession of Hennigan’s abandonment, her own greedy indecision–

"ASHER??" A bellow sounded in the distance.

Leaves sprinkled over them as the tree shook from a pair of thuds that split the air with a crack.

"WHERE IS MY SON??" The roar cracked under the strain walled within.

Asher’s eyes flew wide, his hand seizing Briddy’s in a vice as he shot upwards.

"Dad!" The word erupted from his throat in a gleeful cry as he began toward Honor House.

Dad. Kerr’s face, brow creased in effort as he tore away her relic, flashed before her eyes.

Bridget sucked in a breath, her heels digging into the ground. With a tug, her hand slipped from Asher’s.

He looked over his shoulder, confusion filling his blue eyes. They flickered between her, and the corner of the house.

"Go." Her voice was hoarse.

"What? Come on." He reached for her. She flinched away and shook her head.

"I'm going to wander for a bit."

"Briddy," He began.

"ASHER!!" The voice cried, ringing with distress now that it had heard him.

"Go find your dad Asher."

"You don’t have to–"

A dark-haired man burst around the corner, a pair of spectacles threatening to fly off his aquiline nose. Long robes lined with the green trim typical to the Teradish Coalition flared behind, giving the impression of enormous palm fronds flapping in his wake. Upon catching sight of them, something between a sob and a wail erupted from his throat, and he charged straight towards Asher.

They collided in a deep embrace, sinking into a pile on the ground as the bespectacled man stroked his son's curls over and over.

"Thank the Sculptor." Asher's father sobbed. "Thank the sun, the rain, thank it all. You're not hurt? You're all right?" He cupped his boy's cheek as though it was made of jewel and porcelain.

Eyes wet, Asher managed a nod.

Bridget could bear no more and turned to leave them their tender privacy.

"Briddy, wait." Asher’s voice was soft, but she couldn't bear to turn around and see him, cradled in his father's arms. There was no tolerating the revelation of jealousy that crippled her face.

"I'll see you next year," Her voice was quiet, but at least it didn't wobble.

"Briddy??"

“Who?” She heard his father ask.

"It's alright, Asher. ” She forced a smile he couldn’t see, fixating on the pattern of the tree bark in front of her. “I'm fine."

Her feet carried her halfway into the Common Area of Honor House before she realized what she'd said to him.

It was packed inside, the stale heat of clustered bodies somehow more oppressive than the baking rays of the sun outside. Walking past a girl silently lying on a couch, her head in her mother’s lap, Briddy kept her own down as she ducked into the Sleeping Area. Coming to a stop before her bed, she blankly looked down at the neatly made blankets, still as undisturbed and piled high with books as they had been two nights ago when she had needed a drink of water.

Shutting her eyes tight against the memories butting into her brain, Bridget stalked forward, scooping up the feather-shaped clip that sat beside an empty Keepedish. Still nothing from Nolan then. His pin had certainly stayed cool, and void of explanations, It seemed her little brother saw fit to do the same.

Bridget slipped the clip into her hair and reached for the dish, getting ready to place it in her trunk with the rest of her things. A chunk of shorn hair –still uneven from the shard’s close passage to her head the other night–popped out and began slapping at her chin. Huffing impatiently, she tried to tie the locks up with some success, only to have other, different locks fall free.

Fortunately, she was distracted from her dilemma by a small commotion outside. Tossing the leather cord and bronze dish on top of the rest of her things, Bridget closed the lid of the stone container and crossed the room. Cautiously, she opened the door, peeking around the edge.

She hadn’t thought it possible, but even more bodies than earlier were now stuffed into the Common Area, sharing a common sandy blonde between their heads. Bridget’s eyes lingered on the glittering loops of layered ringmail and the sheen of well-sharpened weaponry strapped to the adult’s backs. Taut muscles and strained smiles adorned their bodies, covered in the scent of oiled leather and the tang of sweat. A few of the children ran loose, swinging wooden and stone weapons at one another as their elders talked in low, urgent tones, ignoring the patches of different guild colors sewn into their equipment.

Briddy felt her toes curling at the tension, her chest growing tight even though she had yet to enter the room. Watching closely, she followed the undercurrent of strain, letting the adults lead her to the center of the conversation. It was quite easy, really, when they left such large gaps in where they stood so that they could always see her, and when she said something with passion, their heads always swivelled around with a nod or a smile.

The buff blonde woman from Terna’s office gestured vividly about something, her hand resting on the shoulder of a person blocked from Briddy’s view. She alternated between stroking their hair and addressing her surroundings, bluebell eyes sparking with fury. Once, she even tapped the handle of the weapon on her back for emphasis.

Bridget found herself wondering what it would be like, to have a mother who cared for you so deeply and fiercely. She found herself caught up for a moment, imagining that she was safely sheltered under the woman’s caring arm, caressed and castled as her beloved child. Pain, deep and ragged, raw and raking, threatened to consume her in its gaping jaws. Briddy fed the fantasy anyway, just for a moment, leaning forward to see if she could catch the woman’s words. Hadn’t Terna called her Fern? Fern was a nice name. A motherly name.

The door creaked, just a little, and the woman’s eyes snapped to hers. All indulgent daydreams ended instantly, flooded out by the cool burst of shame that snapped Bridget back to reality, and the fact that she had been peeping around a door like a creep. Whipping back around the door, Briddy’s face went red. She had been caught, there was no getting around that. But at least no one else–

“Miss Vasily?” The woman’s voice leaked through the door, tinged with concern.

A string of swear words (courtesy of Gail) ran across Bridget’s mind in an endless scroll. Rapidly smoothing her diaphanous shift, she stepped out into the cluster of onlookers.

Near instantly, the silent weight of their expectant attention swivelled toward her, threatening to crush her into a paste.

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Bridget offered, hiding her sweaty palms behind her back.

“Nonsense.” A smaller man with a dark moustache groomed to painful precision chuckled, patting the tall woman next to him on the arm. “Fern was just saying that exceptional students are the only reason things weren’t worse.”

“Else Horeban practically held the underroads alone.” Fern spat. “She’s barely clinging to life as we speak–” She cut herself off, looking at Briddy.

When the older huntress brought up the smoky-voiced student’s name, Bridget felt the ground shift under her feet. She could still hear the duet the upperclassman had sung with Kurtis, haunting her mind with an echo unheard. This was the first anyone had mentioned the upperclassmen to the greencoats, and she just assumed that the losses had been contained to the younger and more inexperienced.

Were Hennigan’s hunts armor enough? Vexela’s quiet many-voices slipped into her thoughts, a cool stream of water amidst a pit of ill-ease.

Hennigan was abandoned by a coward. Bridget responded. It’s not the same.

“You’ve had enough of that though, I’m sure, dearling.” Fern’s words brought her back to the conversation, and Bridget looked at her, lingering on the blue ribbon woven into her chainmail. “Better to focus on the positive! Will you be returning next year?”

Bridget began to answer, and then the woman clapped her hands together. “Ah! First, apologies. This is my husband, Percy,”

The diminutive man from earlier stepped forward, his impressive facial hair bristling with a smile. Briddy noted that the handles on the four axes strapped to his belt were lovingly worn, although the buckles on his boots were the type of fashion Nolan would engage in. “After the glowing introduction we had earlier, it is my pleasure, Miss Vasily.” He enthusiastically shook her hand. “Congratulations on your progress with your father’s relic. Are your parents about?”

Drawing away, Bridget pursed her lips. “No.”

“Ah! Lost them, have you?” He chuckled, popping a small sphere hardly bigger than a grape from his pocket. “Not to worry…”

“You really don’t–” Bridget tried to start.

Moustached Percy had already uttered the scrying spell, and images flashed past, showing brief glimpses of sparkling water, thick, black beams of crossed wood, atop which perched an enormous feather, carved from gold.

Bridget felt like she could die. She would recognize the outside of the Gilded Down Guildhall anywhere, and she knew she wasn’t the only one.

“Odd,” Percy muttered, adjusting his navy blue tie. “They were just at the University a little while ago for the meeting–”

“That’s enough, love.” Fern’s hand closed over his, forcing it back into his pocket. She beamed at Bridget, forcefully moving her interjecting husband behind her. “I hear you’re shaping up to be a fine huntress, Bridget. If Headmistress Terna and my nephew are right, you’ll be a formidable bearer as well, someday.”

Bridget tilted her head slightly at her wording. Nephew? Mistaking the confusion, the blonde woman drew a long, slender spear, the center of its head hollowed out in blocky, angular cuts. It whistled as she spun it around once before sliding the weapon back into its sheath, and Bridget could’ve sworn she tasted the acrid bitterness of lightning in the air.

“I’d like to be,” Briddy replied softly. “Someday.” Like you. She added silently.

The older huntress gave her a full-toothed grin of approval, sending giddy waves of happiness that rippled all the way to Briddy’s toes. Then, something familiar about the lopsided way Fern smiled struck a chord, reminding Bridget of a certain friend of hers. A horrible thought entered her mind, and just as she was about to ask the question that confirmed it, a series of footsteps pounded down the staircase behind her.

“Got everything?” Fern turned to face the person to Bridget’s right.

“In a trunk, anyway.” Tuck’s warmth of personality preceded him into the conversation, right as Bridget’s stomach hit the floor. “He wouldn’t let me touch the–Briddy!”

Mechanically, she turned to face the two figures standing to her left.

One filled her with such a flood of joy and affection that she bounded over, accepting the hug he offered right away. As Tuck let her go, she was left to face the other, who she hadn’t looked in the face since the night he abandoned her, and everyone else, outside of Honor House.

Briddy had imagined a thousand different fights, conversations, debates and screaming matches she was ready to have with Niles. Look at him now, everything about him disgusted her, and no matter what he did, everything reminded her of that one moment, when she had seen what lay at the core of who he truly was.

Standing apart, they looked at each other in bristling silence. The adult’s eyes raced between them, and Tuck, to other students, no doubt looking for answers.

Niles stared at Briddy, slowly scanning her as though she were a new species of mold he had never seen before.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself to just walk away.

Then his eyes landed on the uneven chunks of her shorn hair, one of the many things she hadn’t had time to fix since everything went wrong in the world. The corners of Niles’ mouth twisted, quirking up and down. Deep behind his spectacles, a hidden pleasure shimmered, indulged at the sight of her, wrecked and ruined.

Something snapped. Bridget strode past, slamming her shoulder into his. “Coward,” She spat.

Pushing through the throng, she made for the front door.

Behind her, she heard Fern’s kind voice say: “What’s she talking about, honey?”

“Vasily!” She heard Percy call.

Bridget’s teeth ground together as Niles began to stammer out an excuse. He didn’t get to lie through this. Not when he was blessed with parents like these. She slammed the door open wide, whirling around with a flourish.

“Go on Niles!” She called out at the top of her lungs. For once, it was a pleasure when the flock of eyeballs swerved her way. “Tell ‘em why when I asked for help, you ran.”

Without waiting for what came next, Bridget strode through the door and shut it on his glare. All of her inner heat fled with the click of the latch, leaving a bitter sludge in its wake. Niles deserved whatever he got, but Fern and Percy had been kind, if unaware. As she scanned the slowly emptying campus, Briddy dully wondered if they would be so magnanimous after hearing their son’s stories of her.

Not that she could blame them. At this point in the day, she had come close to slicing into one family, invaded on the privacy of another, and now to top it all, she had lashed out at the only set of parental figures who had extended a hand. No wonder Ruba and Kerr had just left. Who would want a daughter like that?

A daughter just like them, Bridget thought. Someone not right. Someone who would hurt children.

You’re hurting. Her relic’s touch tickled at the edge of her consciousness, a buoy bobbing in the storm. You’re a child that was hurt.

A burst of laughter, rare enough over the last few days that it sent Bridget jumping, burst from the trees beside Honor House. As though repelled by the noise, Briddy pivoted in the opposite direction.

I’m broken. She thought of her friends, even Niles, drowning under the affection of deathly concerned families. A product of where I came.

That is not your fault. Vexela replied. And those that sought to snuff the spark still burning did not succeed.

Bridget's pace slowed, and her aimless wandering led her to the line of golden-tan peaks at the edge of the school. The sun’s half-disc threatened to blind her as she drew near to the entrance of the arena of dunes where the greencoats had trained, sparred and danced, now guarded by a pair of black-draped signs.

Ignoring the black font’s sterile display about visiting hours, Bridget whisked past. The only protest to be heard was the silent whisper of her Shroud’s silk as it snapped behind her in a small breeze. Down the winding path, and across the packed earth, an empty clearing full of eight shapes cast shadows that stretched out to greet her.

Briddy came to a halt, numb blankness consuming her mind as she stared at the boxes. The one on the end was carved from the same black wood as Terna’s desk, a silver metal shard embedded into its lid in the shape of a crescent moon. Beside it, seven smaller, tiny rectangles were neatly perched in a line, a tall stake driven at the foot of each one. Each slender marker held a Shroud hung like a single, silent mourner, fluttering weakly over the wood like the brush of fingertips.

As her eyes travelled over a rainbow assortment of uniforms, the eerie sensation of realization shivered down Bridget’s spine. There was a stark similarity between the slain, standing out as harshly as the bleached clouds against the fading purple sky. Each and every student slaughtered had worn the white tint of Heir’s Course students, palely waving beneath the color of their years.

Shuddering, the ground slipped and shifted beneath her feet, the packed dirt threatening to spin upwards and collide with the heavens in a dizzy swirl. Hollow chimes rang in the back of her ears, choking her throat shut as though it were filled with blood. She wondered if she tried to speak, an accusatory gurgle would spit out instead of words. Heart leaden, Briddy turned her head. The tiniest coffin sat at the end, the pale green of its diaphanous mourner silently flapping over the pale lid.

Bridget backed away, out of the empty arena, and up the side of the dune. She didn’t stop until the peak brushed her shins. Squinting into the sinuous sea of sand that spread out into a dying sunset, she searched the horizon for any disturbances. When she was satisfied that she was alone, Briddy sat, hugging her knees.

Her failures ran deeper than just Hennigan. The amount of times that she had gone over that moment at the bottom of the stairs, trying to think of something better to say to get Argus to her in time, to react faster to his flight– it was agonizing. But what good did her misery do when she was here, brooding on a dune, and he was there, nailed into a little box?

Bridget waited for tears to fall, or a sob to shake her shoulders, but instead, she just sat there, silently watching the shadows grow longer over the dunes. Everything that she had seen that day, from Terna’s theories to lips she’d felt, all the way to her parent’s cold dismissal jumbled around, intermixed with her own guesses and memories. By the time pale silver had replaced burnished amber as the candle in the sky, Bridget had picked up at least some of the pieces and made up her mind.

I’m coming back. She promised, looking down at the coffins. I’ll do better.

It’s not your fault. Vexela reminded her.

Bridget scoffed, tucking her feet underneath her. You can say that…but I had choices. They had consequences.

That is what it means to live.

Tilting her chin, Bridget looked down at the arena below. Not for them.

They made their choices, too. Her relic’s words were delivered to her mind with gentle brushes. What else is there?

Quirking an eyebrow, Bridget felt her lips wring into a wry smile. Are you asking me what I would do?

Someone should.

The answer struck her, and she remained quiet for a while as she stood up. It took Briddy halfway through brushing the sand from her legs to find the right words. Make better ones.

It was the simple, but only solution. She needed to learn more, train harder, study later, be better.

Then that is what we will do. Vexela said.

Bridget felt herself taken back to the moment in Terna’s office when her relic had completely submitted to Kerr’s command. Except it’s not really ‘we’ yet, is it? Her father would always find new ways to hurt her.

Patience. Our bond is not his. Vexela advised.

How could you give yourself to someone so horrible?

He was not always this way. It was maddening, hearing even a sliver of her own voice defending her father like that.

Next, you’ll tell me he’s misunderstood. Bridget hissed.

I will tell you that you do not know the path he has walked. Vexala’s voice took on a sudden edge that alerted Briddy. Just as he does not know yours.

That’s because he’s stood in it. She shot back. Great Titaniumn Kerr nearly had me convinced I couldn’t even summon you, remember?

There was a noted lack of response for a moment, allowing Bridget a moment to take several deep breaths.

He clings to something no longer his. Vexela said, with what Briddy could’ve sworn was a hint of pity.

So? Until some unknown point in time, he gets to carry on, ruining whatever existence he can place his hands on? He doesn’t even want me as his heir, Vexela. Angry wetness filled her eyes, wracking her body with painful shudders as she swallowed down each sob that tried to escape. She wouldn’t cry. Not for him.

They don’t…want…me.

Gentle trickles of wind ruffled at the mismatched locks of hair at the back of her head, bringing the chill of nighttime desert air to fizzle against the heat of her hurting heart.

Then there will still be tomorrow. Vexela whispered. And the day after that. Your suffering cannot rule all of your days, because you continue to live, and grow, in spite of it, Bridget.

Against her best efforts, treacherous tears finally broke free. I remember that promise. Bridget sobbed. It just doesn’t feel possible, right now.

It’s been some time since the day we first met. Vexela said. Do you remember the other?

Bridget shook her head, wiping the wetness from her face. She turned toward the empty campus, looking over its spindly buildings and burnished domes, interlaced by the white stone paths laid out like the spokes on a wheel. Her chest felt tight. Not at the moment.

When Vexela spoke, the relic’s words brought in a violent rush of memory; another plum-stained sunset, glimpsed through glass, shouts ringing off the Vasily kitchen walls, and the initial novelty of a flat, expressionless voice, speaking in the mind of a bruised girl who refused to budge from between her little brother and a gold-bracered fist.

None of them knows the heights you are going to reach.

And just like the last time, Bridget steeled herself, taking a deep breath before facing the pain of all that was broken and about to break.

A smile fluttered to her lips.

I know.