Embers of Light and Darkness

"Next," shouted Aeneas, standing some feet away from her

Releasing a blast of power, the barrel that was 20 meters in front of her disintegrated to ash and before her trainer could make the next order, she had moved to the next barrel then the next until she was now facing the one that was eighty meters away, but no matter how much she tried, her magic couldn't reach that far 

Lyla tried to concentrate, tried to force it, but everything seemed futile

"It's okay, you must be exhausted, we can continue tomorrow," Aeneas said, approaching her

"No" 

"Lyla…"

"I'll leave when I'm done."

Lyla kept blasting her power, and every time she failed, her anger only grew till it finally got the best of her. She was mentally and physically exhausted, and after the argument yesterday, she was reminded of how insane all of this was. She was human, one who knew nothing of saving worlds and conquering evil, yet she was thrust into a quest that could very well take her own life, and for what, for people who might see her as nothing but a weapon to use for their own sake.

'What use are you to us, dead?' the Keeper's words rang in her mind. That one sentence was enough to sum up what she thought of her and what they would think of her. She was just a tool. Her life didn't matter; she didn't matter. All they needed was her power.

They needed her as a weapon to fight and risk anything for them, and after that, then what? Would they just throw her to the curb? Like she was just a piece of garbage already used and forgotten

The beast in her raged and growled, anger and frustration, a poisonous claw stretched out. She lashed out and released her magic towards the barrel. A green blast shot from her towards the barrel and turned it to a pile of ash, but it did not stop there, it rushed towards the next barrel, a hundred meters away, went past it, and towards the tree twenty meters from that. 

It all happened so fast, there was a tall tree and then there wasn't. She stood speechless watching the damage, and it was only when she heard a groan that she turned. Aeneas lay on the ground, his face contorted in pain. He had been too close, and the uncontrolled use of her power had hit him.

She scrambled to his side in panic. 

"Aeneas…heavens…I'm so sorry….what should I do? Help someone help me," she stood in panic and ran, not knowing where to go.

They were in a field used by the Legion for training, the Legate had given his consent to use it and assured them no one would be near to witness her using her magic, so as she ran, she saw no one in sight. 

"Help," she screamed at the top of her lungs.

She almost released a sigh of relief when she saw someone in the distance approaching. She waved her hand, trying to motion for them to approach faster. "Help," she shouted. The person seemed to understand and ran towards her.

She was surprised to see a familiar figure approaching

"Lyla, what…" Lysander started

"Aeneas, he's hurt."

"WHAT"

She took off, but he was faster. She arrived a few steps behind him and found Lysander already crouched on the grass, assessing his brother's situation.

"What happened?" he asked, the anger in his voice making her wince

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to; it was a mistake. I was trying to hit the barrels, but I lost control and he…he got hurt."

"Ans where does it hurt?" he turned to his brother

"My back…and shoulders," he groaned 

"I'll call Nyx."

The brief closing of his eyes had a Pegasus flying on the horizon towards them. The creature landed with a mighty flap of its wings. It approached the two brothers, looked at Aeneas, and seemed to know why it had been summoned. Nyx was navy blue in color with long curly hair flowing down her side. Swishing her tail while Lysander helped his brother on, the creature glanced at her briefly. 

Once they were on the eldest, Drakon turned to look at her, a question on his lips. 

She simply said, "Go."

Lyla watched till they were no longer in sight, watched the clouds till she grew exhausted and turned to leave. She had been walking when the Legate found her and escorted her back to the mansion.

Lyla had refused to see Aeneas when his brother later came to inform her of his condition; he was okay and would heal quickly from his dislocated shoulder. It was a relief, but she still refused to go; how could she face him knowing she might have killed him, so she resorted to training herself. 

She spent hours in that training room beside the house. She trained until she was exhausted and marred with cuts from imperfect handling of some weapons. She trained until she was so tired that she could barely manage to drag herself to her quarters.

She opted for a cold bath that night, relished in the sharp pain it brought to her cuts, if only to stop the images of Aeneas lying on the ground overlapping with the man she had killed in the forest.

There were moments she saw Aeneas covered in blood, a dagger in his heart, then she saw her red hands dripping with the liquid. She sank deeper into the tub, submerging herself deeper, and only broke out when she was completely out of air. Even then, she still sat there, she sat until the water lost its cold, and her body was numb.

When she moved to her bed, sleep evaded her like a plague, so she opted to stare at the ceiling.

Lyla remembered one cold night when she was still in the human world. It had been so cold that news alerts rang in her phone, reminding her to stay indoors. That night, her mother had huddled them next to the fireplace, which had remained unused for a long time. The woman had wrapped blankets around them while she kept throwing wood into the fire, and when she had finally settled between her and her brother, hot cocoa in hand, she pulled them closer

Lyla's skin sang as if in remembrance of that warmth, not just from the fire and blankets, but from her mother's eyes.

She wished for it now. To feel her mother's embrace and reassurance 

'It will be okay,' her mother would say,

'don't think about it, sweetheart,

' 'you were forced to do it, '

'the fact that you feel bad means you're not a bad person, '

'come here, it's going to be okay'

Those words repeated themselves till they became a symphony in her ears. They hummed through her and etched themselves into her very bones and became the very blood in her veins 

Those words carried her through the night and the next day as she sat next to Aeneas on his recovery bed. He had smiled when he saw her, had told her the words she didn't know she wanted to hear

"It's not your fault," and she knew. She knew he wasn't just talking about the injury she caused him

He had held her hand in his and let her see the truth, comfort, and understanding in his eyes 

"It'll be okay," he said, and she believed him