#chpt9

But she couldn’t keep her nightmares quiet forever. Someone would find the broken mirror in her room. They would find out.

But, for now, they didn’t know, and that was enough. She could pretend that things were normal. She could tell them that she’d hurt her hands on an adventure and she was taking a break until they healed. She could wonder if it would be better if she took up her father’s offer and join him in the silk trade.

A flash of royal purple in the crowd caught her attention and she scanned the market to locate the person, which she did moments later. She recognised the individual in the fancy getup as a fellow adventurer, a mage if the staff was anything to go by. The hair was braided into thick ropes that almost reached their shoulders, and was kept in place with a bandana. It wasn’t until the adventurer drew closer that she recognised the face.

“Aleks?” she called, grabbing his attention from two stalls away. The stand owner gave her a death glare for stealing a potential customer, but she didn’t care as the mage looked around to find who had called him. She almost raised a hand to wave at him, but quickly decided against it at the sight of the bandages, and cocked her head when he looked in his direction.

He frowned slightly, obviously trying to place her face. She, too, had changed through the years, with her hair now out of that embarrassing short bob of stylised spikes and now into a longer, more mature layered look. She waited for him to recognise her, and chuckled when he seemed to be having trouble.

“Ayla!” he finally called out. A smile appeared on his face and he approached the stall. He looked at the stand in bemusement, clearly unsure of what to make of her acting like a trader. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking a break from adventuring, so I’m helping Baba at his stall,” she explained with a shrug. She could barely contain her mirth seeing her friend’s face drop at the realisation of what he’d walked into. She turned to the bear of a man beside, who had been watching the pair with quiet interest. “Baba, this is Aleks. He’s the older one of the brothers I was telling you about.”

“Uh… *ahem* Nice- Nice to meet you sir,” Aleks stuttered, offering a hand to the much larger man. He almost flinched when her father laughed loudly before shaking the offered hand.

“So, you are the kebbit my küçük kuş has her eyes on, huh?” Ali asked the boy, ignoring the indignant splutter from him and the sharp dig in his ribs from his daughter. He laughed again as he released the mage’s hand and brought Ayla into a one-armed hug. “I know what you’re thinking: how is she so small when her Baba is so big? Well, I’ll tell you. She gets it from my Anne. My Anne was a tiny, tiny thing but she had a big heart, like my girl here, huh?”

Ayla could feel her face burning in embarrassment as she realised that introducing Aleks to her father without her mother’s supervision might not have been the best thought out plan. But, she had no way of going back in time to change the event, not one that wouldn’t burn her hands to cinders, so the best she could do was salvage what little dignity she had left.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to be doing, Aleks,” she interjected before her father could say more. She could see the same level of relief at a way out on his face, and she knew that they had to move quickly before her father took charge again. “Have you been to Ardougne before? How about I show you around? I know the best inn here if you’re staying for a few days.”

“Inn?” Ali objected. He looked at his daughter in shock at the suggestion. “Inn? Don’t be silly, my küçük kuş! We’ve got room, he can stay with us!”

Ayla closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. She had given her father a captive audience on a silver platter, and she had no one to blame but herself. She sighed as she accepted that after the trauma of enduring her father for a night, Aleks would probably run to the Feldip Hills and never speak to her again.

“Ah, but we must let your Mama know that we will be having a guest this evening,” Ali announced, the decision already made in his mind, despite the fact that Aleks was hopelessly trying to assure the man that it wasn’t necessary and that he would be fine in an inn. He then reached to the box that held the day’s earnings and tucked it under an arm. “Come my sweet, we must close up so we can go home early. Your Mama will want to talk to your friend as well, after all.”

---***---

“Sorry about this. Baba always was a bit overdramatic, though lately he seems to have gotten louder,” she explained to Aleks as they walked home a half hour later. There was a moment of quiet before she looked to her friend and noticed the strange expression on his face. “Is there something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, uh…” Aleks stalled, clearly he hadn’t realised that he was being obvious. He cleared his throat and nodded to the man in front of them. “It’s just… ‘Baba’ is a strange name to call your father.”

“Not really,” she answered with a shrug. “It’s Kharidian.”

“Oh. So, ah-ney is Kharidian too?”

“It’s ah-nay, and yes. It mean’s mama, though Mama doesn’t like me calling her that.”

They continued walking in silence for a while. From the corner of her eye, she could see him looking at her. His eyes were lingering on her hands more often than she was comfortable with. He was going to ask, she knew he was going to ask.

“So, what brings you to Ardougne?” she asked in forced cheer, hoping to prolong the inevitable. She noticed his eyes snap back to her face, clearly hoping that she hadn’t noticed his attention. “You didn’t actually say when we were at the stall.”

“It’s… a little embarrassing to be honest,” he admitted, fidgeting slightly. She looked over to him, with an easier smile on her face. It wasn’t often that he divulged embarrassing details, and she was looking forwards to teasing him. “I… heard from Sir Tiffy that you were on extended leave. He didn’t say why, so I thought I’d come and… make sure you were alright.”

Ayla dropped the smile and turned to stare ahead of them. Her body had flushed ice cold and burning hot in quick succession; the horror that Tiffy was telling people of her personal circumstances was quickly replaced with the indignity of it. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run away from everyone who had ever known her, just so she didn’t have to worry about this surfacing again.

“I’m fine,” she said curtly. She saw Aleks jolt at her tone, and her father in front of them turned for a moment to look behind him at them. She knew she had increased their concerns, but at that moment, she didn’t care. The grip of rage loosened as the Nelwyn house came into view, and she smiled in relief. She turned to Aleks, ignoring his shocked expression. “Well, this is home.”

The next few hours went by without incident. Her mother, Shannon, greeted Aleks cordially. She had been less impressed with the invitation that Aleks hadn’t actually agreed to, but assured the mage that she had no issue with him staying over. There was much talk of how he had met Ayla, what he did as an adventurer, and how he found the lifestyle. Shannon kept her husband’s line of questioning to a minimum, aghast that he treated the boy like their daughter’s suitor instead of a friend.

Soon enough it was time for dinner, and everyone helped with the preparation. Unfamiliar with the Kharidian dish, Aleks had needed help from Ayla and they sequestered themselves to a corner of the kitchen. Ali frequently approached to pester them, but was always driven back, laughing, by Ayla brandishing a wooden spoon and yelled insults in Khardian.

When everyone sat down to eat, the mood was light and relaxed. Ali even stopped pestering Aleks about when he would ask for Ayla’s hand or where the wedding would take place, and instead took interest in the mage’s hobbies.

“It is good to know you have interests, but there should be more than just your work,” Ali mentioned as Aleks spoke of his love of archaeology and how it took him to new places. When Aleks frowned, not understanding, Ali rested his cutlery and pointed to himself. “Whenever I have time, I like to go fishing. It serves me no purpose for my trade, but I find it fun all the same. And my küçük kuş? One time when we were trading with the gnomes, she learnt how to mix drinks and cook fancy gnomes foods. I doubt it helps her when adventuring, but it always brought a smile to her–”

With the clatter of a chair, the crashing of a plate and a yelp of pain, time seemed to jump forward a few moments.

Before anyone could really see what happened, Ayla was on her feet and a yard away from the table. In her right hand was a knife, bloody, pointed at her father’s outstretched arm. Her hand was so tense it was shaking, and the bandages at her knuckles were turning red. She, herself, was trembling, her body holding a defensive pose. Her eyes were wide, tears slowly trickling down her cheeks, and there was a ripping sound in her throat as she struggled for short, rapid breaths.

Nobody moved and stared at her in shock. The only sounds in the room were Ayla’s erratic breathing and the echoes of a clock in the next room. After a few moments passed, Shannon regained her wits and took a calm breath.

“Ayla,” she called to her daughter quietly. “Ayla, chick, why don’t you put the knife down?”

Ayla looked to her mother, an expression of terror on her face. After a heartbeat, she looked to her extended hand and the knife she was barely holding as she shook. It was another moment before the knife fell from her grasp, twirling, until it clattered on the floor and spun away, out of reach. Fresh tears continued to fall as she looked back to her father, still frozen in shock and unmoving, who she had been defending herself from.

His sleeve was slashed and hung at his elbow. She could barely see it from where she stood, but she knew he had a long cut up his forearm from when she had cut him in terror and desperation to escape. His hand was curled slightly, and in the right position to gently stroke the back of her head, like he used to do before she left.

The back of her head, where she…

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered before fleeing up the stairs and to her room.

---***---

Aleks stood outside the door and breathed. He knew this was Ayla’s room; it was the only one with the door closed. He’d been standing there for the last few minutes trying to think of what he wanted to say.

He’d known something was wrong, everything she did practically screamed it at him. Her parents had known too, with her father admitting that he’d tried to be as cheerful as possible for her, while her mother had remained respectfully silent on the matter, trying to act like nothing had changed. They were letting her deal with whatever was bothering her in her own time, and were waiting for her to speak to them when she was ready. Admirable, except it had allowed her time to try and repress the issue.

No one was really sure what had set her off at dinner, though the looks her parents shared proved that they had their suspicions. And, with the cut on Ali’s arm needing tending to, they had sent Aleks up to speak to her.

“Ali was never an adventurer.” “Shannon has been retired for too long.” “You’ll be able to relate to her much better.”

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He took a sharp breath in, gathered his courage to its sticking place, and knocked on her door. He waited for several moments for a response, but heard nothing from the room beyond.

“Ayla? It’s Aleks. Can I come in?” he called, knocking louder.

The silent response to his calls was suddenly all the more worrying, and his imagination filled his mind with horrible scenarios, each more horrible than the last. He breathed slowly to calm himself, telling his mind that he was blowing things out of proportions, that he would open the door and she would be there waiting for him. She might even have fallen asleep, doubtful, but it was a possibility.

He taking one more breath to steel his nerves, he opened the door and walked through.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, maybe the room half destroyed or something to that ilk. He was expecting Ayla to be standing there, waiting for him, or maybe doing something productive with her time. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see her curled in on herself at the foot of her bed. Her arms weren’t wrapped around her knees like one normally did in that position, but instead her fingers were interlaced behind her head.

Exactly where Ali had reached for her.

Aleks quietly entered the room and slowly joined her side. He thought briefly of sitting on her bed, but decided it would be better not to tower over her, and joined her on the floor. He sat there, waiting, listening to her breathing, watching her movements, looking for the right moment to speak.

“Is Baba okay?” she asked quietly, beating him to it. She hadn’t moved her head, still resting it on her knees and staring at the ground.

“He’s fine. The cut wasn’t that deep,” he assured her. She didn’t respond, but he thought he could see her shoulders relax slightly. Her breathing hitched and then calmed. He waited patiently until he thought she would be inclined to answer. “What happened downstairs… is that why Tiffy sent you on extended leave?”

“Tiffy doesn’t know what happened,” she answered, her voice soft and muffled. “He read the report, but he doesn’t understand. None of them do.”

“You mean the Templar Knights?” he guessed. There was a small nod from her, confirming his question. His bit his lip, thinking on how to get her open up, how to get her talking. Eventually, he decided to go with the truth. “I’m not privy to any reports, but my own. I don’t know what happened on whatever mission you got sent on.”

“I’m not surprised. It’s not exactly suitable bedtime reading,” she snorted derisively. “Even the quick version in the report is nightmare inducing.”

“Then, why don’t you tell me what really happened?” Aleks offered. He saw her freeze at the suggestion, and he forced himself to stay calm or else he risked upsetting her further. “You can start at the beginning, so I can follow along. Please Ayla, you’re my friend. I want to understand, at least to the best that I can.”

“You won’t sleep for a week,” she warned.

“If telling me helps you, then I think I can manage that,” he promised. “Just tell me whatever you can. I’ll try to understand.”

Aleks couldn’t help but cringe internally at his words. They were cliché and sappy, and he was certain that Ayla would have teased him mercilessly over them were she in a better state. But as it was, she seemed to take comfort in his promises. She took a deep breath, hindered by her hunched pose, and began to talk.

Her voice was shaky as she spoke, and she halted at times to recompose herself. She spoke of Witchaven, a small fishing village to the east, and of the missions she was sent there for. She told him of mind controlling slugs and of little boys who used magic to grow up. She described underground shrines and ancient doors with terrible creatures behind them. When she began to tell him of the final encounter with the monster, this slug queen, this… Mother Mallum, she recounted the events slowly and in far greater detail than anything she had mentioned before.

It was this part, he realised, that was the source of her pain, her trauma. She described everything that happened, from how Kennith used his magic and Eva being thrown against a pillar to Ezekial’s bombs and the death of Mallum’s previous host. He then realised that she hadn’t included much of her own actions, or how she felt during this final confrontation.

She was trying not to think about it.

“And what about you?” he pushed gently once she’d finished. His question was rewarded with her lifting her head off her knees to look at him quizzically. Getting her to look at him felt the greatest victory after everything she’d told him. “You said what everyone else did, but what about you? What were you doing through all this?”

“I did nothing,” she replied, returning her head to her knees.

“I don’t believe that,” Aleks shook his head, belatedly realising that she wouldn’t see it. “I know you too well, you wouldn’t just stand back and let others do the work. And you’re not the kind of person who would freeze up in terror, either, so don’t even try to sell me that one. What did you do?”

“I did nothing!” she yelled, curling tighter in on herself. For a moment, Aleks feared he had pushed her too hard and she wouldn’t speak again, until she began to sob. “I… I couldn’t do anything! Mallum had me. I… I couldn’t do anything…”

Finally, she began to talk about her part in the confrontation. She told of how Mallum had swapped the old woman, Lucy, for her. She told him how the slug queen had used her as a voice, how she had had battled the creature’s will with her own, simply so that she could speak.

“When Mallum had control, when she was stronger than me, it was like I didn’t exist,” she explained, shivering at the memory. “It was like I had always been there and always would be. It felt as if I had never been something separate from her. And when her control slipped, I was hollow for a moment before I could remember being me at all. She erased me and everything that made me who I am.”

“Blood and shadows,” Aleks swore lightly under his breath. He stared at her in horror, unable to even imagine what that must have been like for her. Seeing her cringe, he realised that she had heard him. So close to her, of course she had heard him. He had to calm her down, get her to realise that she was okay. “You’re here, though. You made it through, yeah? That thing’s gone and she can’t hurt you. You’re never going to be erased.”

“But I still see it,” she cried. Her whole body was shaking and Aleks fought the urge to draw her into an embrace. He wanted to hold her, but knew she would struggle if he tried. “Every time I close my eyes, I can see that cave she was in. Every time I look in the mirror, I see what I would be a thousand years from now if she’d kept me: old, decrepit, and begging for death. And, I can’t stop seeing it! I can’t see who I should be anymore!”

“Then who do you want to be?” he asked as he watched her sob. She paused, her breathing heavy as she tried to cease her tears, and looked to him. It struck him, far deeper than he wanted to admit, seeing the hopeless look in her eyes. He had to change that. “Who do you want to be? Never mind who you should be, or who you were, who do you want to be?”

Her breathing clamed as she looked at him. Her eyes dashed as she thought about what he’d said, what he’d asked. Her trembling slowed before finally stopping. Her crying ended and her face dried, helped by the hands she had moved from the back of her neck to wipe her cheeks.

“I want to be me, no one else,” she finally answered him. “I want to be someone who makes the world a better place, and doesn’t hide alone in her room waiting for her nightmares to claim her.”

“Sounds like an amazing person to be,” he smiled. He looked at her hands, now that he could see them, and he pointed to her bloody knuckles. “We should probably see about changing that bandage. Did you want some help?”

“I’d appreciate that,” she murmured. She scooted towards him, her knees popping as she moved. Her arms snaked around his and she laid her head gently on his shoulder. “But, could we just… stay like this for a while? The bandages are downstairs and I don’t quite feel up to facing my parents just yet.”

He laid a hand on hers.