Raze the Night (Nightstar Book 2)

Fennrin had spent what felt like hours just thinking, staring into space in what used to be his and Ainreth’s tent. Being here was definitely not helping anything, but he couldn’t he couldn’t get himself to move, stuck replaying what happened in his head over and over.

He couldn’t believe they’d gotten here. He’d always thought they could talk things out, no matter what. Because they loved each other, didn’t they? But Ainreth had made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with him.

And to assume that Fennrin would ever cheat on Ain with anyone was just hurtful. Fennrin knew Ainreth hated Daryan, but to go so far as to assume just because they talked sometimes it meant something?

Fennrin rubbed his eyes. He’d already cried enough for today, and he refused to start again. He felt so weak for it, but his heart was breaking over and over just thinking about what had happened.

He was so sad and mad, and yet any time he tried to focus on his anger, it dissipated, leaving him only with crushing misery. He he had no alcohol to drown his sorrows, but perhaps that was a good thing.

Despite Ainreth’s dismissal, they would be moving on soon, and he couldn’t be drunk. Lys-Akkaria needed him, now especially. Now that…he was alone.

Fennrin flinched when someone cleared their throat behind him, turning around to see Daryan poking his head in the tent.

Fennrin had not spoken to anyone since the incident, aside from the Bulwark who tried to assure him Ainreth would be back as a general and that he didn’t mean what he’d said. But Fennrin hadn’t had the energy to listen to her, let alone believe her. Ainreth had seemed very genuine when he’d said what he’d said. And even if he hadn’t been, the reaction had given Fennrin a lot to think about.

“Do you have a moment, Fenn?” asked Daryan, smiling at him sadly, a bruise and cut on his nose from Ainreth punching him, the skin still a little swollen.

Fennrin sighed. He didn’t much want to talk to anyone right now, but he didn’t have the energy to resist. And talking with Daryan tended to make him feel better.

“Yes, of course,” he said flatly, his voice a little rough from not having spoken in many hours. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was just too sad and tired to manage being a good conversation partner right now.

Daryan didn’t seem to mind at least as he walked in and to where Fennrin was sitting, leaning on what used to be Ainreth’s chair with his hand, hesitating for a moment.

Fennrin just nodded, swallowing thickly, trying to prepare himself for having a likely long conversation. He did want to tell Daryan that he needed to be alone, but maybe wallowing in his misery was the actually bad option, despite not really feeling like talking.

“I…regret my part in what happened,” Daryan said, sighing, his shoulders sinking. “I should have foreseen the consequences. What conclusions you sleeping in my tent would make Ainreth jump to.”

Fennrin stared at the ground, his heart clenching. “I should have as well, I suppose. But I didn’t think of it at the time.”

Daryan shook his head, however. “No, this specific event was entirely about me interacting with you, I believe. Ainreth hates me, after all.”

“He has a reason to,” Fennrin muttered, though currently he felt too numb to pity Ain for his situation. He’d never wanted to be a general. Maybe he wouldn’t even come back, like the Bulwark had claimed. Why would he? He’d decided he doesn’t want Fennrin in his life, and he’d never wanted to be a part of this war.

“Yes,” Daryan agreed, sighing heavily as rubbed his eyes. Studying his face more closely, Fennrin noticed that Daryan’s eyes seemed much more tired than ever before, circles under them. Had he not slept either?

“I’ve done many regrettable things in my life. But with that said, even if Ainreth did like me, I also don’t see this ending any other way. Perhaps sans a broken nose.”

He grimaced as he touched it gingerly, now straightened but clearly still very painful.

Fennrin frowned, confused by his words. He wasn’t at all certain where Daryan was going with this. “What do you mean?”

Daryan gave him another sad smile. “I…did not want to say anything. You are an adult, and it is not my place to give advice where it is not wanted.”

Fennrin frowned harder, understanding even less. “I still have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

Daryan heaved another sigh. “Well, to put it bluntly, Ainreth has never had a long-term relationship. It’s very likely he doesn’t know how to maintain one.”

Fennrin was immediately about to argue against that, wanting to defend Ain despite how much he’d hurt him because he’d been a great partner until their relationship started to fracture through the war. But Daryan stopped him with a raised index finger.

“But that is not the main issue. The main problem I’ve noticed is his…jealousy. Of you. Your power, your esteem within Lys-Akkaria. He’s been trying to hold you back, hasn’t he?”

Fennrin blinked slowly, trying to wrap his head around this. “He…he worried if killing all these soldiers wasn’t taxing on my mental health. And whether I am fully in control when I kill many at once.”

Daryan nodded, grimacing. “Yes, and I am certain he said he is merely worried about you.”

“Well, he is,” Fennrin immediately said, his face falling then. “He was.”

Daryan nodded, frowning. “I’m certain he still worries. But it seemed fairly clear to me that he felt threatened by you. Ainreth never liked having competition. And he didn’t have any until now, not truly.”

Fennrin bit his lip, not really wanting to believe that, partly because he couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth to it. He knew Ain loved him, or at least that he had loved him. And he didn’t want to believe this. But he couldn’t help but doubt himself.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Daryan said gently, patting his shoulder. “But that is what it seems like to me.” Daryan sighed, hanging his head a little. “I’m sorry.”

Fennrin continued staring at the ground as he thought this all over, his eyes stinging. He was so tired. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know any of this.

“It’s….” Fennrin had been intending to say that it was fine, but it was not. Nothing was fine. “I just…what happens now? Shouldn’t we wait for Ainreth to come back before we continue the siege? Without the Daybreaker—”

“We have you, Fennrin,” Daryan cuts him off, giving him a small but warm smile. Fennrin blinked, staring at him.

“But…you had me before, as well.” He hung his head. “Now we are simply missing Lys-Akkaria’s most powerful fighter.”

Daryan shook his head, though, touching his shoulder again, squeezing reassuringly. “Yes, we did have you helping us a great deal, that is true. But have you let yourself explore your limits? Without Ain trying to hold you back?”

Fennrin hesitated, looking at Daryan, unsure what to think. “Well…. I suppose I did not. But he is right. What if I do lose control? What if I hurt someone on our side?”

Daryan smiled sadly at him. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Fennrin nodded, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

Daryan shook his head, squeezing his shoulder. Fennrin was surprised by how comforting that gesture was. “No, it’s all right, Fenn. Being afraid of oneself is quite common in az-ari, especially a shadowforger.”

Fennrin nodded, grimacing, not sure what to say, but thankfully Daryan continued.

“But think about it. Have you ever felt as though you were losing control? At any point? Have you ever hurt an Orinovan soldier without meaning to?”

Fennrin thought about it, trying to think about this properly. “I….”

“You haven’t, have you?” Daryan nodded knowingly, but Fennrin wanted to argue, even if he was right.

“Well, I could lose control if I push it,” he huffed, feeling a little bad for being short with Daryan, but he couldn’t help it.

“You won’t,” Daryan disagreed, smiling softly. “Not once have you lost control. Why would you start now?”

Fennrin said nothing, staring at the ground, frowning in thought. Then he shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s possible if I don’t reign myself in.”

Daryan leaned closer, staring him right in the eye, leaving Fennrin with no choice but stare back, whatever he was going to say next leaving his mind. “Or you could be one of the greatest az-ari warriors in history.”

Fennrin felt like he shouldn’t encourage this within him. He worried it would make him lose his humbleness, become arrogant and overconfident. But he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying that fantasy, if only for a second.

“When I was young,” Daryan said, sitting back in his chair again, “I was under the impression that my gifts weren’t particularly useful aside from perhaps making medicine or poison.”

Fennrin relaxed a little, very curious what Daryan would share with him with. He also wondered how old he actually was. The man practically oozed experience and wisdom. It made sense he’d been the Herald for so long.

“It took me quite a lot of time to try to push the limits of what I could do. How else I could use my talents beyond existing preconceptions.” He smiled, his eyes looking beyond Fennrin now, reminiscing. “And it was as wonderful as it was frightening. When I realized that could not only use plants to make things, but also to defend myself, to fight, that I had the power of one of nature’s forces at my fingertips…. Well, it changed things.”

Fennrin nodded, feeling a little embarrassed for never really giving much thought to what a sproutkeeper could do. Petre mostly made tonics with their mushrooms, and yes, he had seen them grow massive mushrooms to serve as a shield against arrows or something similar, but that always seemed to take a lot out of them.

Petre….

Fennrin hoped they were looking after Ainreth at least a little. He was more than likely going to get unwisely drunk after all of this happened, and Fennrin didn’t want him to be left alone like that.

“My teachers tried to dissuade me from testing the limits,” Daryan continued, a sad smile on his face as he stared off into space. “They grew concerned when I demonstrated how we could use sproutkeeper abilities to fight. I suppose people tend to think we are all gentle and peaceful because we can grow plants, and that is where things begin and end.” Daryan chuckled a little. “I did not let them stop me. And you shouldn’t either.”

Fennrin nodded slowly, thinking it through, trying to make sense of this. “And if something goes wrong? If I hurt someone accidentally? All I can do is kill.”

Daryan stared at him for a moment, his green eyes so intense that Fennrin had to resist wanting to break eye contact. Finally, he spoke. “No, Fenn. You can do so much more. You can shape things with shadow. Have you never tried?”

Fennrin shrugged. “It hasn’t been a priority.”

Daryan snorted, nodding. “Yes, I suppose not, but it is true regardless. When it comes down to it, I also can’t create much. None of the az-ari can. We modify existing things. Even you creating shadows is more drowning out light than anything.” He squeezed his shoulder, smiling at him gently. It made Fennrin’s clenching heart relax just a little. “And there is nothing about your talents that’s more evil than anyone else’s. Intent matters, nothing more.”

“I could still hurt someone,” Fennrin pointed out, but he did feel better. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. What Daryan was saying did make a lot of sense to him.

“So could anyone with any sharp object,” Daryan pointed out. “But very well. Being cautious is wise.” He smiled at him, and Fennrin’s heart warmed a little at the compliment. He’d not been called wise much in his life. “I simply think you can test the waters more, so to speak. You have a good heart.”

Daryan put his hand on Fennrin’s chest over said heart, which made Fennrin blink in surprise, but he was taking his hand away before he could even react properly. “Let it guide you.”

Fennrin stared at him dumbly while Daryan smiled in amusement. “Try not to overthink so much, Fenn. If there is one thing I’ve learned it is that one should not overanalyze everything.”

He patted his shoulder before getting up and walking to the tent exit before pausing, looking over his shoulder. “It will be okay. Do not worry. I’m certain our next battle will be victorious.”

And with that he left, Fennrin staring after him, thinking.

He looked down at his hands, biting his lip. He wanted to believe Daryan. He truly did. Perhaps he really should just take the plunge, see just how much he could do when using all of his potential. If only he stopped worrying about what he might do and trust himself.

He twitched a finger, making the tent fill with shadow, drowning out light until the inside of it was pitch black. He moved his hand and the shadows obeyed, swirling in circles along the fabric of the tent, changing shape with what he was imagining in his head, the shadows were like an extension of him.

He clenched his hand into a fist. The shadows obeyed him. And they would continue to obey him. They would do whatever he wanted.

Fennrin nodded to himself. It was nearly time to leave again, to more than likely battle Orinovo. After what had happened, they were no doubt emboldened.

But Fennrin would do his best to make sure Lys-Akkaria would be victorious. He wouldn’t disappoint Daryan.

It was time to see how much truth there was to what the Herald had said.