Under the Dawn's Light (Book 5)

Chapter 20

YUVEN

Clunk. Hush. Clunk. Hush. It echoed down the corridor in a somber, teary refrain as he bumped his head against Fenrer's door as he sat in the dirt and made himself bleed on the wall he formed. One glyph in his hands, he tossed snowballs into the one across from him to shudder it into mist, reforming it back in his hand, to repeat the same process over, over, and over. Fenrer's sniffles and hard breaths echoed out to him in his spatial distortion, but he wasted his own pride when he leaned deeper into the door. What can I say that would even... make what I did right? He sat out there with Advanced Glyphs and Casts in his lap, turning each page and reading nothing upon them. One more chunk of snow. Another carrier of his frustration when he tossed it into the other half of his glyph. "Molvi?"

Fenrer quieted.

"Neven..." Yuven chewed on his lip and shoved his arm through his spatial distortion to drop the package on the other side of the door. "You should at least go see him. Maria said he was recovering well enough that he should awaken fully today." One more furious bounce off the wall, he got up, book tucked underneath his arm. Because all he's been doing is asking for you. Why you? What did you two discuss before he left? He dug his nails into the boards of Fenrer's door. Don't... I'm not worth your tears, why does my opinion matter so much? Fangs in his lip, he threw a half-hearted kick into the spot Fenrer sat against, then stalked off to head for the Infirmary with his great shame. In the promise of silence, he gulped down his daily medication, the thick texture uncomfortable on the roof of his mouth as he resisted the urge to gag as he drew into the Infirmary. Healers sorted through the cupboards over the more public beds with curtains open to reveal the emptiness — a rare sight indeed, for those in their trade, but their numbers dwindled as Turns passed. Wardens out there he outlived.

In the back area, the Infirmary separated into private rooms as his bloodline cursed those around him and himself. White flames scorched the runeward and he let himself inside Neven's suite. Maria's alchemy station and ledgers were without her presence, though she marked down days of his condition and the things he ate or refused to. On the end table, a stout phial full of essence in a basket with a white-speckled wyvern fruit, one slice already taken when its sweet and sour aroma entered his nostrils as Neven chewed on the seeds. "Yuven." Neven chomped on the rest with vicious, fanged fervor of their ancestors, and the sensation of scales brushed against the grain of his fingers before using a cloth to wipe the cyan juices off his fingertips. "Hello, have you brought Fenrer with you?"

Would that I could drag him over the wall I built in front of him and hadn't broke his heart with the bricks. Yuven rubbed his fingers and stepped up to Neven's side to put a smile on his face, not understanding how Fenrer did it. "You've got this backwards, Miesero. It's supposed to be me in that bed... not you." He limped into the visitor's seat near his head. "So... that really happened, didn't it?" He drove his knuckles into his eyes. "Those people hurt you... because of me, because they think I can... or even want to do anything to 'save' Naveera." He air-quoted with a scoff. "When I can barely..."

Stop my Oathbound from crying due to my stupidity. Uncertainty choked him at the thought when Neven peered at him and knew far more than he needed to do without the cruel magicks which swirled Aurus' eyes.

"It's... not your problem."

Yuven jolted at Neven's cold tone, but his fangs disappeared deeper into his jaw when he sighed. "Yuven, those problems are too much for one man, let alone a child," he said, and he found his logical arguments dying with his actions towards Fenrer, a Turn younger. "Those problems have existed since time immemorial. People destitute out in the streets, seeking out sanctuaries for measly lives. Children left without parents. It is all too common, and you shouldn't be burdened with seeking a nonexistent magickal cure to what plagues our people." He put a hand on his heart and leaned closer. "It is us, Yuven. We barely know who we are... so we sing the song of our ancient fear; our apathy, and spread it like a contagion — our terrible siren song."