Days blended together in an endless continuum since Kieran's betrayal. The vision of this one scene in the yard replayed a dozen times in Zephyr's mind: Kieran, still so ardent, talking about freedom from the constraints of the Guild. It was a pang that, until then, he hadn't counted upon, a cleft of disappointment and residual loyalty, which refused to be laid at rest.
Zephyr felt that ache anew now, staring at the empty space Kieran once took during training sessions. Whispers floated among the Initiates about what really happened-fear and curiosity combined. Some still refused to believe it, hanging on tight to the memory of a man who once had been a mentor. For Zephyr, though, denial wasn't an option anymore.
Mira appeared beside him, soft and unyielding as ever. She cast a glance his way, then-most of what the experience entailed were troubled.
"Can't let go, can you?" she asked, low of voice yet firm. "I know he meant a lot to you Zephyr, but. you heard him. That wasn't the same Kieran we knew."
Zephyr let out a hard, huffy breath. "I know, Mira. Yet he taught me all I know about control. I feel like…perhaps something slipped my notice. Some omen I let slip away." He fell silent and leaned in close to her face, searching with an intent gaze. "You ever get that feeling, Mira? That somehow, we might've done more?
She furrowed her brow, almost weighing his words. "Perhaps. But we cannot carry the choices of others. All we can do is be strong in our own.
They walked in silence; their footsteps resounded between stone walls where usually the sound of voices would be heard. The Guild seemed so empty without Kieran, but Zephyr knew he just couldn't afford to let sentiment cloud his focus when he had been brought here to learn how to protect himself and those around him from the shadows.
It wasn't until later that day, deep in the training hall, his new mentor was introduced to him: Master Eryndor-a grizzled and stoic man, rumored to have stared into the Abyss longer than any other Conduit. Eryndor was tall, solid of build, with eyes that seemed to bore right through into your very soul, right into that place where all your deepest secrets lay hidden. Zephyr felt that gaze like a hot poker as he entered the training area.
"You're the one Kieran trained," Eryndor said. It wasn't really a question, yet his voice carried somewhat of a rising inflection.
Zephyr inclined his head and squared his shoulders. "Yes, Master Eryndor."
"Very well. We start with the manipulation of shadows." Eryndor did not bat an eye. "I want to see how much you've digested."
Zephyr called the shadows to his defense, and the energy ran through his hand; still, the shield maintained itself, he couldn't shake off those echoes of Kieran's words-overreach, and with it, the burn. He quieted his doubts and turned to the lesson at hand.
Eryndor had said nothing, only watched each flicker, every nuance in his control. When Zephyr was done, his shield dissipated into dark wisps, folding back into the ether.
Solid control," Eryndor said finally, his tone grudgingly approving and critical. "But there's a fracture in your focus. I can see the hesitation. You're holding something back."
Zephyr shifted, looking away. "It's. hard to keep my training separate from. what happened recently.
"Ah. Still shaken by the fall of your former mentor, I see." Eryndor's voice was keen but not unkind. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Zephyr. The Abyss doesn't care who holds loyalty nor grudges. It only knows desire. The need for power, control, and sometimes even freedom from what binds us. Kieran fell because he forgot that balance. You must never forget it."
The words bit deep, burrowing into Zephyr's brain. He knew Eryndor was right; holding on to old loyalties would shatter his control. And yet, it wasn't quite that simple to let go.
"Transition to offense," Eryndor said. "Conjure a weapon of shadow-one that feels like an extension of your will.
Zephyr dug deep inside. With Mira, he had managed to whittle it down enough to conjure a dagger, but something in Eryndor's eyes made him insist on more. The power crackled through his veins as he drew it out, letting the shadow form take shape in his hand. A longsword coalesced, razor-edged and blacker than night, humming with his will.
Eryndor's eyes shone with approval. "That's more like it, but can you use it with authority?"
Without warning, Eryndor called a whip of shadow and lashed out at Zephyr. Instinctively, Zephyr lifted his sword, meeting his attack in loud clangs. His face unreadable, Eryndor pressed on, each swift strike a test of reflex and will.
"Let your fear fuel you, not bind you," Eryndor ordered. "When the Abyss whispers, let your heart roar louder.
With every blow traded, it was a test of endurance, but within that fog of battle, some clarity appeared to emerge. He almost felt the specter of Kieran in his mind's eye, the specter he would become should he fail. But time and again, with every deflection of the next strike from Eryndor, surges of confidence welled into him. He wouldn't be consumed by the shadows; he would command them.
When they finally stopped, Zephyr dripped from sweat, but he felt really stronger, more self-focused.
"Good," Eryndor said. A small nod of approval fluttered across his grim face. "You're learning to wield shadows with intent-not just instinct. Remember that."
That night, as on many other nights, Zephyr lay in bed awake. It wasn't really the pain but was more or less like a recording of the events of the day's training that replayed over and over inside his mind. He went out into the cool night air, hoping it somehow would subdue the relentless thoughts.
He was not alone. Mira stood at the edge of the yard, her arms folded, staring out into the darkness.
"Sleep coming not for you either?" he asked, stepping up beside her.
She shook her head, and her smile fluttered across her lips. "No, just thinking on everything. It feels like everything's shifting or something.
Zephyr nodded at her, the weight there in her tone unsaid. "Keiran's betrayal hurt us all, but I think we have to let go of the past if we ever are to move forward."
Mira's face gentled as she turned toward him. "You're right, Zephyr. You know, I'm proud of you. You have been through so much since. everything."
Their eyes met, and in that second, a wave of warmth cut through the cold uncertainty. She wasn't just his friend; she was his anchor, light in the shadow-always there to keep him down to earth.
"Thanks, Mira," he said in all quietude. "You saved me. Thanks again, Mira."
She smiled wistfully, that kind of smile holding sorrow and hope. "None of us can face the Abyss alone, Zephyr. We need each other."
Thus, together, a silent resolve fell between them. The trials would continue-the shadows deepening-faces forward, they would welcome it.
Tomorrow, he would rise once more to the training in Eryndor's grasp, to his limits of endurance, the doubts assailing him, and whatever shadows fell across his soul. For finally, he had realized that loyalty to oneself was a dire necessity, just as much as it was to others. Whatever the Abyss could throw at him, he would stand consistent with himself.
Maybe that way, he would have turned out to be much better as a Conduit for the great power he was using.