Young Flame

The next few days I spent telling Leal — and Grímr, for the parts he didn’t already know — everything I’ve done, this time not avoiding the details of hardship that I’d originally not wanted her to know. From being used to power Henosis’ weapon, to the struggles I faced after being dragged beneath the Titan Alps, I left nothing out.

I have moved past much of what has happened, so telling her is no issue. In fact, it feels slightly relieving to get it off my chest.

Leal listens intently, and we fall into a silence once I’ve finished. Grímr is content to just focus on the flight ahead, but Leal’s silence is contemplative. I hope this doesn’t mean she’s reverting to not talking to me, but I don’t bother her while she’s absorbed in her own world.

“I’m sorry,” Leal says suddenly, after hours of silence. “In my anger, I treated you unfairly. I know you couldn’t have meant to hurt Mum. You helped me even after I tried to kill you, and I still sent you away. I’ve been unreasonable, but I want to make this right. Despite all that has happened, your friendship still means a lot to me. So, I’m sorry.”

“No, there’s nothing you need to be sorry for. I’m still the one-”

“Just accept it, Solvei.” Leal gives me a slight grin. “I’d like to go back to how we used to be.”

“Okay, I’d love that.”

I may or may not have let out a squeak when she pulled me into a hug. A tight grip wouldn’t be the worst, but she’s thankfully gentle. No other option before me than to lean into it.

My head in Leal’s chest, I catch Grímr’s eye from the corner of my sight. I turn in Leal’s hands only to find him gazing dead ahead, but the amusement lacing his eyes is clear as day. Ah, whatever, I’m going to enjoy this while I can.

❖❖❖

Our progress over the wasteland has been quick, and if not for the sandstorm raging ahead of us, we might have even reached the Agglomerate by tomorrow.

The Titan Alps loom far overhead and completely block the moon from sight. It’s strange that regardless of whether we are in the wastelands to the south of the mountains, or in the pact nations to the east, the Titan Alps always block out the moon.

Considering the moon is always northwest, it isn’t surprising that it remains behind the incomprehensibly tall mountains. What is strange, is the unmoving orb always seems to be directly behind the mountains rather than off to the side. It would make sense if the Alps were straight, but we have maps that paint them curving northward along the pact nations. Are those maps wrong?

“Should we go around? Or will we be fine to cut right through?” Grímr asks as we head toward the sandstorm that reaches along the horizon.

I’ve only ever experienced them from the ground, so I don’t know how Grímr will handle the winds. Best not to risk it. We could go around, but with how expansive the storm is, we’ll travel a long way off course. I don’t really want to veer off our travel route; Tanwyn’s directions were clear, but I’d rather not make any mistakes in the search for the Agglomerate. I have no idea what to look for, after all.

“I think we should camp for the night. If we fly back a bit, we should avoid the sandstorm.”

“Will it be gone by tomorrow?” Leal asks.

“Doubt it. But our path should be clear. Only the worst storms are large enough to pelt an area for more than a day.”

We fly back a few minutes until a lone rocky outcrop appears amongst the sand. Leal and Grímr have discovered that the drain on their water and hydration is much worse when in contact with the sands, so whenever we can, we’ll rest on rock-lands. It isn’t always a viable option, especially out in the central wasteland, but we have managed.

The struggles the two have gone through with the help of flight really hammers home how desperate the Henosis had been to power their weapons. They do have their cars, but unless they had some incredibly advanced inscriptions to keep themselves hydrated, they could never have pushed into our lands as far as they did.

As soon as we land, Grímr slams his wings into the rock. He carves out a lip under the earth to give himself a place in shade to rest. Leal sets up her small workstation of inscription tools and immediately dives into more of her designing and experimenting.

There is still plenty of time in the day to burn before we need to rest. Well, Grímr and I hardly need the sleep, but there is no rush. I am excited to see the Agglomerate, but I don’t plan to stay for more than a few days at most. The environmental conditions of the wasteland clearly aren’t supportive toward my friends. They don’t complain, but it isn’t difficult to see the burden it puts on them.

It is so close now. We will arrive at the Agglomerate Mum always told me about in only a couple of days. I can hardly believe it. It’s exciting, but also terrifying. I can’t even pin my finger on why I’m so nervous to reach the áed city, but I am.

So long have I wanted to see it, and now that I’m on the cusp of seeing the Agglomerate for myself, I hesitate. What if it doesn’t live up to my expectations? The village in the Agni mountains left a lot to be desired, so I can’t help but fear that everything I’ve already seen in my life has spoiled how impressed I’ll be.

I pull out my mum’s glass marble. The soft glow of the pink flame is the same as it was all those years ago. It has always been a mystery. The strange colour and odd stillness of the flame, but mostly how it has lasted so long. Pop gifted this to Mum, and he’d had it since he was a child.

The grand elders of the Agglomerate are really old, right? Maybe they’ll know what it is and how it was frozen.

I’m not about to back away from facing the Agglomerate, but I can’t just sit around like this when I’m so close. Jumping to my feet, I dash out into the sands.

“I won’t be far,” I shout back to the two in their fresh cove.

There is no plan. I just need to move my flames, and considering I’m trying to limit how often I spread my fire, it leaves me feeling pent up. The excess energy wants to burn out over the horizon, but I have to hold them back.

Instead, I move my body. Each part of my form switches between physical and not, pushing me to move quicker without expending energy. As I run, I lengthen my legs, stretch my arms, give myself more reach with my spear as I strike out against an invisible enemy.

After a few practice strikes, I push the spear through the side of my chest as I shift to the form of a fennec fox, which gives me the benefit of a quadruped's running speed. The spear holds firm inside my torso, poking out both my sides as I run across the sands. Having such a long pole reaching out both sides of me makes turning a lot harder than expected, so I twist the spear within my body so it comes out the top of my head, and the grip follows along this form’s tail.

There are some really strange things I can do now that my binding is so high. Holding things inside my torso would have been impossible right after the Void changed me, but I have improved enough since that such an odd way to hold and wield a weapon in such a way is possible.

With the weapon poking out my forehead, running is made far more difficult. It sends my balance way off and only because of all the training Bunny had me do can I keep moving.

It may be possible to wield a weapon like this, but it is hardly helpful. I can’t think of a single scenario where it wouldn’t just be better to fight in my standard form, or shift to a bird to fly off.

Regardless of its lack of beneficial use, I find it fun to explore possibilities like this. Now that my transformations have reached a speed that I can switch forms in the heat of the moment, who knows when one of my forms might become helpful?

I run around, playing with forms for a while. Never do I move further than I can feel Leal and Grímr, and I keep an eye on the sandstorm beyond the horizon.

Eventually, it is dark, and I have to stop. I return to my natural form and redress myself, an annoyance that I have to deal with every time I change. I’ve become pretty good at it, but sometimes I wish I could just leave it on when I take other forms.

Kinda odd now that I think about it that I only feel I need to wear clothing in this form, but that’s likely a result of áed tribes wearing armour wherever they are. Even those not expected to fight do. But considering the albanics that look like our solid forms wear clothing without being exposed to the danger of the wasteland, it might just be natural expression… or we imitated them.

It can’t be an accident we look similar, right?

Who came first, the áed or the albanic? Is that even the right question to ask? Albanics cannot change their forms as easily as we can. Did my ancestors of the past adapt their form? Even áed with a normal level of binding can alter their forms over years, so it isn’t impossible if everyone considered the form better than any other.

These questions aren’t at all important, but they are some of the things I’ve been thinking about over the years. Questions that resurface now that I’m so close to the Agglomerate.

In almost any case I can think of, an áed will either be accompanied by others that have been to the city before, or they themselves will be familiar. As far as I know, there has never been an áed to visit the agglomerate without guidance, so what if there is a process I don’t know about? What if I break another of these taboo without realising I’m making a mistake at all?

I poke my head in the newly cut cave as I try to settle my doubts. Leal has fallen asleep with her head in a notebook, but Grímr’s eye follows me as I drop beside them.

“You’ll be fine, Solvei,” he says as I lean against the wall.

“Huh?”

“You’re worrying. While I don’t know much about áed culture, your people have the same solidarity I’ve seen amongst the áinfean and portian. I don’t believe you will be unwelcome, but whatever happens will happen. There’s not much use stressing yourself over what-ifs.”

“Right. Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “I’ve just been gone so long, and this city is supposed to be incredibly important to my people, but I hardly know the first thing about it.”

“That is fine. What you don’t know, you can always find out. Think of it this way: would your tribe have left you without such important information?”

“There were plenty of things my tribe didn’t tell me,” I say.

“But did they ever hide anything vital to your safety?”

“I guess not.”

“Then trust that anything you may not know would not bring you harm.”

It’s not really harm to myself that I’m worried about, though. What if I make a fool of myself? What if I’m not supposed to bring outsiders to the Agglomerate? Elder Tanwyn didn’t stop me, so it should be fine, but the possibility remains.

“Alright, thanks Grímr.” He’s right that I shouldn’t continue to stress. Whatever happens will happen. I just hope things go smoothly.