Chapter 8: The Weight of the Past
I stand in the middle of the warehouse, the harsh glow of the dim light casting long shadows across the floor. Rune is across from me, his expression unreadable as always. The air is thick, charged, like it always is when he decides to speak, but there's something different today.
The usual silence between us feels heavier now, like there's a story waiting to be told, one that has nothing to do with the lightning, the training, or the power I'm struggling to control.
I feel it in my gut—the sense that today's not just about practice. Rune's been around long enough that I know when something's on his mind.
His eyes flicker toward me, and for the first time, I see something else in them. Not cold indifference, not the usual calculation. Something… heavier. A weight. A burden.
"You've been asking questions," Rune finally says, his voice low, almost reluctant. "About me. About my past."
I don't reply. It's not that I haven't been curious—of course I have. Rune's a mystery, wrapped in layers I've only scratched the surface of. His past is something he keeps buried, locked away. But it's clear to me now: today is different.
"That's what you want, isn't it?" Rune continues, his gaze narrowing slightly, as though he's reading me like a book. "You want to know who I am, where I came from."
I swallow, unsure of how to respond. There's no real need for words. I've been wondering for months, but I've never pushed him. There's always been something about Rune that makes you think twice before asking questions. Like you might uncover something you're not ready to see.
"Maybe I do," I say, my voice steady, betraying none of the curiosity that swells in my chest. "I want to know what makes you tick. What you're running from."
Rune's lips curl into a faint smile—amused, but there's no joy in it. "Running from...?" he repeats, like he's tasting the word, feeling it out. "You think I'm running from something?"
I'm silent, meeting his gaze. He knows I'm not stupid. I've seen it in his eyes—the same way I've seen the ghosts that follow me. The way we both carry the weight of things we can't let go. The things that make us dangerous.
There's a long pause. Rune turns his back to me, pacing slowly toward the back wall of the warehouse, his steps echoing in the stillness. The soft click of his boots on the concrete is the only sound between us.
For the first time, I realize Rune doesn't talk much about his past. His words are like knives—cutting when they need to, but always avoiding the ones that would carve deep.
"You're right," he says quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm running. From everything. From who I was. From what I had to do."
I blink, caught off guard by the admission. It's not like Rune to be so open, especially about something personal. I don't say anything, unsure whether to push him or just let the silence hang.
After a long moment, Rune turns back to face me. The faint flicker of emotion in his eyes is gone now, replaced by something harder—something colder.
"I wasn't always... like this," Rune begins, his voice distant, as though he's reliving something that's too painful to put into words. "I didn't always live in the shadows. I had a family once. I had a name, a future. But I lost it all."
I can feel the weight of his words, like a storm about to break. But Rune doesn't let it overwhelm him. Instead, he pushes forward.
"I grew up in a city much like this one," he continues. "A place where survival means everything. I wasn't born with power. I had to take it. I had to fight for every inch of ground I stood on. There were no handouts for me, no one to guide me. I fought alone."
I see it now, the hardened edge in his voice, the way his posture shifts as he talks about it. There's a quiet strength in the pain he's letting slip through the cracks.
"My family didn't understand the world I had to live in," he says, his gaze flickering to something distant, something only he can see. "They tried to protect me. They tried to shield me from the darkness. But I couldn't hide from it. I couldn't stay in their safe little bubble while the world around me burned."
Rune's words hit harder than any punch I've ever taken. I can feel the weight of his loss, of the scars he doesn't let anyone see. He's not just some random guy teaching me how to fight. He's a man who's been through hell and back, who's lived a life I can barely imagine.
"I made choices," he continues, the bitterness clear in his tone. "I did things I'm not proud of. I hurt people. Killed people. And in the end, it cost me everything. My family. My home. My identity."
I don't interrupt. I don't ask questions. Because I know that whatever happened in his past is too much for him to explain in a few simple sentences. There are parts of people that don't ever fully heal. Parts of them that stay buried, even if they don't want to admit it.
Rune exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly, but there's no relief in his eyes.
"And now," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I'm here. In a city full of people who don't care, teaching someone like you how to survive."
I look at him, trying to wrap my mind around everything he's said. The Rune standing in front of me isn't just a cold, calculating mentor. He's someone who's been through the fire, someone who's made choices that have haunted him for years.
I don't know if I understand all of it. But I know this—Rune's not just teaching me how to fight. He's teaching me how to survive in a world that doesn't care whether I live or die. And that's a lesson I'm going to need if I'm going to make it out of this mess.
"Is that why you're teaching me?" I ask, my voice quiet. "To make sure I don't end up like you?"
Rune looks at me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I think he's going to say something, but then he just shakes his head.
"I'm teaching you because you're the only one who's ever shown any promise," he says, the words as blunt as always. "But if you don't learn to control yourself, if you don't take control of your power, you'll end up just like me. And I'm not sure you're ready for that."
His words hang in the air, heavy and final. And for the first time, I realize Rune's not just a mentor. He's a warning. A living reminder of the path I could take if I'm not careful.
But I'm not scared. Not anymore.
I nod, finally speaking the words that have been stuck in my throat since the beginning.
"I'll control it," I say, my voice low and steady. "I'll make sure I don't end up like you."
Rune's eyes study me for a long moment, and then he finally gives the slightest nod, like he's satisfied.
"Good. Then let's get back to work. Your training isn't over."
And with that, the door closes behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. But it doesn't feel as heavy now. Because now I understand.
We all have our pasts. And sometimes, it's what we do with them that makes the difference.