by Ain Soph
Edric shrugs his shoulder and we both follow behind Dryden up a dark, carpeted stairwell toward what I can only assume to be the bedrooms. Edric yawns and rubs his eyes, but Dryden looks as wide awake as I feel. On the way to the Void, I started feeling exhausted, but after talking to Dryden and learning Isoline is still alive, I have a second wind, and because of it, I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep. My mind is more active than it’s been in days. Dryden shows Edric to his room and after making sure he gives Dryden a sharp glare, Edric forces a grin and a sleepy wave before yawning. I give him a small smile of my own in return and follow Dryden down the hall to where I’ll be sleeping for the night.
Dryden opens the heavy wooden door for me and motions inside, “You should get your rest. We don’t know what new things tomorrow will bring.”
I nod my head and sigh, “I think today was already emotionally taxing enough. Hopefully, tomorrow won’t be quite as bad.” Dryden and I hold each others’ gaze for a moment before I break away to peer into the dark bedroom in front of me. There are so many things I want to talk about, things that I feel only Dryden can understand, but I don’t want to scare him off. I don’t have much practice forming new relationships, but I know that coming on too strong could ruin whatever I want to build with him. I take a deep breath and give Dryden a tight smile, “I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you for letting us stay here.”
“Like I said, I offer room and board to anyone who needs it. It’s not a problem.” We stand together in the doorway for another moment before I finally say goodnight and step into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Even though I know I need sleep, my heart is racing and my head is spinning. If I can’t quiet my overactive mind, I’m going to have a long night ahead of me.
“One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work is terribly important.”
-Bertrand Russell
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I toss and turn in the small, wrought-iron bed. Finally, I’m resting my body (and on a bed no less), but my mind won’t calm long enough to actually fall asleep. Artia came upstairs shortly after Dryden left and immediately fell asleep in the bed parallel from my own. I wonder if Dryden went to bed or just back downstairs. Maybe he’s awake still and that’s what woke Artia up. It’s hard to know how much time has passed since Artia came upstairs for bed, but I haven’t felt even close to falling asleep since then. I should go outside for some fresh air. The cool night breeze can clear my head and I’ll be able to come back inside and get some rest for tomorrow.
I hop out of bed and tiptoe out of the room, making sure to quietly shut the door behind me. Artia seems like she’d be a pretty solid sleeper, but I have no idea how heavily Edric sleeps and his room isn’t that far down the hall. When I first decided to get some air, I wondered if I should wake Edric up so that he could come with me, but there are multiple reasons why that’s a terrible idea. Not only does Edric need his sleep (he was ready to pass out before we even came upstairs), but a large part of me is hoping Dryden is still awake so I can talk to him one on one.
My footsteps are light and silent as I creep down the steps, but something startles me at the bottom and I instinctively take a quick step backward, bumping the heel of my foot loudly against the bottom step. The thump echoes through the house and I take a second to pause, so I can make sure no one woke up. When all seems clear, I take another look at the dark shape that caught me off guard and make out Dryden’s silhouette in one of the chairs near the entryway. I wasn’t expecting him to be so close to the steps- I wasn’t even sure he’d be awake, and Dryden’s so still in his chair that I mistook him for a mannequin at first. He has a thick book cracked open on his lap with his gaze intently focused on the words in front on him. It’s not until I uncomfortably clear my throat that Dryden snaps his head up toward me. His lips part as though he’s going to say something, but he decides against it and buries his nose back in the novel on his lap, ignoring me completely.
I remain at the bottom of the steps for a moment before hesitantly shuffling closer to Dryden’s chair. I’m not sure how to approach him or if I’m irritating him with my presence, but I want to talk to him a little more without Artia and Edric around and I don’t know when my next chance will be. More importantly, I want to explore the way he makes me feel, so I can know if it’s genuine or just me desperately trying to find a savior. “You weren’t able to sleep either?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The house is so silent though, my question sounds extra loud, causing me to flinch. I don’t want anyone else waking up. I drop down in a chair across from Dryden and cross my hands over my lap, waiting to see if he’ll respond.
Dryden keeps his eyes trained on the book in front of him for a moment longer, his hand resting on his mouth while he finishes the paragraph he’s reading. When it’s complete, Dryden closes the book and rests it on the ground beside him. I try to peer over the arm of the chair to see its title, but I can only make out a few words on the back cover- not enough to even know what it’s about. Dryden sighs and sits back further into his chair, “I have a lot on my mind tonight. I doubt sleep is going to come very easily. I’m surprised you’re up though. You couldn’t have slept very much these past couple days.”
I shrug my shoulders and pick at my nails, “That’s just the life of a mercenary. I’m used to it by now.” I pause for a moment and decide to drop my cool act. The whole point of talking to Dryden is to have a genuine conversation with him. That’s not going to happen if I have my guard up. “I have a lot on my mind too,” I add in a mumble.
Dryden looks at me for a moment longer before asking, “Why did you become a mercenary? Most of the people I’ve talked to say they chose it for excitement. Some think the militias are playing a game with one another and they want to be contracted with the victor. Do you fall under either of those groups?” Dryden leans forward, searching my face, “Or maybe you want to try to break into the aristocracy and secure your future generations’ lives? The Remnants may be gone, but there are other militias with that sect. It’s still possible.”
Dryden’s words are aggressive. He has an obvious distaste for mercenaries, and I’m sure it’s one of the reasons he never dealt with us in person when he was Ulric’s messenger. I sigh and chew on my bottom lip, “It was never really a question of whether I’d become one or not. My parents were both mercenaries, and Timberwood- where we lived- was very supportive of the mercenary lifestyle. Some places worship their aristocrats. For Titania, the mercenaries are the great heroes of the militia, and I think it was just expected that my sister and I would follow in our parents’ footsteps. We weren’t pressured; it’s just how things were.” I draw in a quick breath at my casual mention of Lucie and wonder if Dryden notices my startled reaction. He looks into my eyes with a slight questioning gaze, but doesn’t pry about my reaction.
Instead, Dryden poses a different question for me, “How did you end up with the Remnants then? I’d imagine as a legacy mercenary with parents in the field, you would have your pick of militias to join. Legacies are always given more lucrative opportunities that first generation mercenaries.”
I try sounding nonchalant, but my voice is breathless and shaky. “I needed information about the Scarlet Reapers, and I heard a rumor that the Remnants knew more about them than any other militia. I lost multiple family members to the disappearances, and I just…” my voice drifts off until it becomes nothing but a murmur, “I just wanted to find some answers, but I failed.”
Dryden closes his eyes and blows a sharp breath, pushing his hair back from his face. He glances at me with eyes full of sorrow and regret. “I’m sorry things didn’t go how you expected. I’ve asked myself if there was someway I could have known what Ulric was up to, but he kept his dealings with the Reapers well hidden. The two of us… we were spared experimentation, but we’re victims of the Remnants and Reapers too, aren’t we? We’re trapped in a limbo that we can’t push past no matter how hard we t
ry.”
My heart clenches at Dryden’s miserable expression. I want to come clean to him. He deserves to know the full truth of the day Ulric destroyed the Remnants, including my part in it. If I want to have him in my life, if I want to be by his side, I can’t start our relationship with lies and secrets. Dryden’s given me truth; now, it’s time to do the same for him. “Dryden,” I begin. Something in my tone, something in that one word, snaps his attention to me, his eyes darkening even more. Dryden’s shoulders stiffen and he sits up straight in his chair. He has no idea what I’m going to say yet, but he knows well enough to prepare himself. I have him on edge, but maybe that’s a good thing. He needs to ready himself. “I lied to you. I was there the day Ulric poisoned the Remnants. I didn’t tell you the truth because I was focused on smoothing everything over so we could talk about Isoline.” Dryden’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, but he allows me to continue without interruption. “I went to the camp to get another mission from Ulric. My search for both you and the Reapers was hitting non stop dead ends, and even though I knew the Remnants were just stringing me along, they were all I had at that point.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath before continuing, “Ulric had already received his warning from the Reapers, and his mind was already made up on how to handle it. Apparently, if a militia under contract with them becomes compromised, the Reapers come in and take them for experimentation. I didn’t know until it was too late that Bliss was being given to the Remnants in fatal doses. I don’t think I could have stopped it if I tried. I got there too late.”
Dryden remains frozen in his seat, barely moving, except for his lips as he struggles to ask, “What did Ulric say when you went to see him?”
I shake my head and bite hard on my bottom lip, struggling to keep my face and impassive mask. I can feel the emotions of that time coming back to me though, and if I let them in, I’m going to be a mess. Not here. Not now. Dryden deserves and explanation. I can’t make this all about myself. “Ulric treated our last meeting as a confession for all the wrong that he did. At this point, there are really only two main points of the conversation that I remember. The first was about the Dagger Corps leader. He said that I needed to find out how they knew about the Remnant contract with the Reapers. If I wanted clues for where to go next, then I needed to get to their compound and start asking questions. Ulric said he had an idea of how they found out but he wouldn’t tell me. There were things he couldn’t disclose because he said if I learned too much, I’d be next on the Reaper’s list. And the second point was that he was responsible for kidnapping my little sister and delivering her to the Reapers.” My voice breaks and I rapidly try shaking my head to regain control. I can’t lose it. Keep it together, Luxem.
“So in the end he knew it was me...” Dryden mumbles to himself before pushing his long hair back again and looking at me in sympathy. “So, then you dedicated yourself to the very militia that took someone you love from you. I know that feeling well,” he finishes bitterly.
While Dryden was talking, I’d been biting my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep myself in check and stay strong, but at his sympathetic look, I finally broke down. I cover my mouth in mortification after a sob breaks through the silence, but tears still stream from my eyes. Dryden’s eyebrows raise in surprise and he quickly comes to kneel beside me. Dryden wraps his arms around my head and pulls me into his chest as I silently cry. He stays silent the entire time, softly petting my hair and resting his lips on the top of my head, gently shushing me with his soothing, deep baritone. I let myself fall into the music of his voice, allowing myself to believe, if just for a moment, that things will be okay. I’m angry, bitter, and hateful. I’m resentful toward myself and I shoulder the blame of every tragedy that happens around me. But here, in Dryden’s arms, I feel like I can fight against the negativity and the darkness. I feel whole. I cling onto him, letting go of my final defenses as I finally allow myself to feel the emotions I’ve so exhaustively tried keeping inside. If my erratic, numbed behavior since my visit to the Remnant compound was any indication, this breakdown has been a long time coming.
When I’m finally able to get a hold of myself, I let go of Dryden and wipe my eyes on the sleeves of my shirt. Dryden moves a respectful distance away from me but remains crouched on the ground beside my chair. “I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I think that if I was my usual self, I’d be way past embarrassed right now, but since talking to Ulric, I’m not even sure who I am anymore, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. I thought I found my place, but now, even that’s lost to me.” My voice is raspy and broken and when I turn to Dryden, I feel unshed tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Dryden parts his lips and softly draws a breath before nodding at me to continue, to get out everything I need to say. “My parents disappeared and I acted selfishly, bringing my sister down my own black hole of grief, and because of that selfishness, she was kidnapped too. After she disappeared, I lost myself to violent insanity, asking ‘why me?’ Why was all of that happening to me? This world has truly evil people in it, and I never considered myself among them, but it felt like the universe certainly thought I needed to suffer as though I walked among the wicked. And I just… I was so bitter and hateful. Even more so than now. I ended up taking a mission as a rogue mercenary to assassinate an Artif- basically to carry out the militia’s own personal vendetta. And I liked it. I enjoyed being in control of another being’s life. It was me casting judgment on what they deserved. And I tried to be as moral as I could as a rogue. I only took missions against those who I thought were evil, but Dryden, I enjoyed it. And it took a long time for my own self-disgust to become strong enough that I joined a militia- the Remnants- and found another purpose for myself.”
I avoid Dryden’s eyes as I continue. I don’t need to see his face right now. I don’t want to see what he thinks of me. If I meet his eyes and I see the same disgust in them that I feel for myself, there will be no coming back. I need to get all of this out, and honestly, even if I tried, I don’t think I’d be able to stop talking. It’s all flowing now, and I’m powerless to the words coming from my mouth. “My self-proclaimed purpose was to find the Reapers, to find the truth of what happened to my family, but now matter how much effort I put into it, I could never get ahead. I wasn’t good enough. And in the end, the only help I got was from the very militia that was responsible for Lucie’s disappearance and probably my parents’ too. I was dedicating my life to the very man that took my family from me. How do I come to terms with that?” I give a bitter laugh and frantically shake my head. “What kind of mercenary am I? I had everything right under my nose and I was so poor at my job that I couldn’t see any of it.” I laugh again in my frustration, no longer paying any attention to Dryden. “And then there’s Isoline...I have no idea what’s going on with her, but I know that I was supposed to protect her and I couldn’t.” I feel like screaming. I don’t know what to do or where to go from here. All I know is I’ve lost whatever trust and faith I had in myself and without that, I feel incapable.
I have no idea how Dryden’s going to handle my breakdown. I’m comfortable with him and I opened up to him more than I have to anyone in my life, but I don’t know him that well. I’m running off of pure intuition and emotion. For all I know, his next words could be ordering me to leave his home and never return. Instead, Dryden asks about Lucie. I look at him for a moment, completely caught off guard, before asking Dryden to repeat himself. “I want you to tell me about the day Lucie disappeared. Every detail you remember. After your parent’s disappearance, you had understandable grief, and I don’t think you were necessarily in the wrong by bringing Lucie with you. You were her guardian. Wherever you went, she followed. That’s family. But after she disappeared, everything about you changed, didn’t it? That’s when you went downhill. That’s when you lost yourself. And that’s what you need to talk about. Talk about the day she was taken. I doubt you’ve talked about it before, and you need to unburden yourself by telling someo
ne about it, so tell me. I’ll listen to you for as long as it takes to get the story out.”
I stare at him for a beat longer before standing up to pace the length of the living room. Dryden stands, keeping his eyes on me, but remains glued to his same spot beside my chair. I repressed my memories of that day for so long that I don’t even know where to begin or how to retrieve every detail. I’m going to have to work if I want to tell the story and get past my mental block of that day. I’ll start from the beginning and move on from there. It’s the only way to paint the picture for Dryden exactly as it happened. I take a deep breath, filling my lungs completely, before releasing it and glancing at Dryden. He’s still watching me intently, waiting for my story. I pace the living room a few more times, letting the movement pull me into a trance-like state. Pacing is helping me remember and forcing my mind to stay busy with facts instead of emotions.
“The day Lucie disappeared… that morning, she wanted to go into Timberwood to see her friends. We were supposed to leave that place the year before and start over somewhere new, but she wasn’t ready yet. I wanted out while she just wanted back in. Lucie wanted to be a part of the community again. I gave her that year, though, to prepare herself for the move, and she still wasn’t ready. And the longer we stayed in Timberwood, the antsier I was getting to leave. Lucie and I were just fighting nonstop. She refused to go; I refused to stay, and it was starting to feel like I’d never escape that place. To be honest though, I think that morning I was just set off because a couple days before I ran into Edric, and it was just… an awful, awkward situation. I put all of the tension I felt from that right onto Lucie, and it wasn’t fair to her. Finally, at the end of our long and bitter argument, Lucie agreed to leave. She wanted one last day to say goodbye to her friends, and then, we could head on our way. After she left to say her goodbyes, I started packing her things. I just wanted to make things a little easier for her, you know?” I shrug my shoulder and bring my eyes toward the ceiling, blinking away tears. I didn’t want Lucie to suffer. I didn’t want her to be sad. But in the end, my intentions meant nothing. I was the only one bringing hardship to her life.