Sorina:

  As the memory of Raiten climbing out of the river ends in front of me, a sick feeling pervades in my gut. It's as if my stomach has turned into rancid acid—a bubbling witch’s broth that corrodes my thoughts.

  “Do you understand now?” Hypna asks. I wheel on her, but her expression holds no anger.

  My own annoyance for this woman drains.

  She showed me the memories in a very deliberate order. Some were familiar from Raiten’s descriptions: the deceptions of Saegor, the centipede crawling into his mouth, his friend dying right in front of him.

  Some memories were completely new. Raiten never told me how brutal his battle was against the Lady. He never talked about the isolation of the briars—the mental effect it had on him throughout. He didn’t speak of his nightmares—of how cruel Thraevirula has been to him over the past few days.

  And the rats…

  I shudder.

  Then, I look down in shame. Because, out of all of the memories…

  He never told me he tried to kill himself.

  I feel like a peeving intruder in his own mind. No person should have the right to view these memories, so clearly, so openly.

  But Hypna showed them to me anyway.

  Our conversation didn’t start off this way. At first, we bickered about magicks. Semantics. How best to teach him. Who best to teach him. It escalated—only then did she show me his inner mind and all the horrors it has beheld.

  The witch places a hand on my shoulder. “He’s barely keeping it together, Sorina. He might seem fine, but I know how he is in here: his mind is a tempest of pain.” Her hand slips away and she looks at my own hands, which are rendered completely in this dream realm—unlike reality. I clutch my right hand into a fist. The fingers are sorely missed. If only I could somehow take this with me, rather than the horrors of what Raiten has witnessed.

  “I know it must be…” she pauses, struggling to find the right word. “Difficult, for you as well. But I think you can handle it. Raiten, on the other hand? He—well, you know how he is. He won’t say anything. But—he’ll need you to keep him steady. Sorina, you’re the only one he has left out there. Do you understand?”

  I nod slowly, still looking down, mind still playing back that scene of him cutting the shard along his wrists. Over and over. Rivers of red flowing unto the crystal brook—the sweet, rotten embrace of suicide taking him down down down.

  “How do I help him?” I ask. Can I even help him?

  Hypna backs away and shakes her head. She’s quite beautiful. Almost enviously so. It's no wonder Raiten takes comfort in her presence, over me even.

  “Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Talk to him.” She pauses, before closing her eyes. “And don’t tell him I showed you any of this.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Right. He would hate that. He would absolutely despise that, knowing him.

  “I understand,” I tell her.

  …

  I wake up with a pounding headache. It's the first time I ever experienced dream magicks—I hope it's not something I’ll have to get used to. I already feel more fatigued than I should be.

  My right hand aches. The stump at least; a phantom, searing pain that shoots up my arm. I’ve been getting those in waves as well. It feels like the hand should be there. Sometimes, my mind conjures up images of that appendage—wriggling somewhere in Baroth’s stomach.

  But the pain and the aches—none of that has my attention right now.

  Raiten is busy packing up his cot, while Umbrahorn dives in and out of the ground, chasing some rabbits at the periphery of our camp.

  I stare at Raiten’s back as he works to string up bundles of wood.

  His hands move with a sense of urgency. Of liveliness.

  Staring at him, a sense of confusion overwhelms me.

  I mean… how could he even think to do that? Why did he even try it in the first place?

  I don’t understand.

  I… don’t understand.

  What compels someone to throw away their—

  A tear strokes down my cheek. I wipe it away with my hand and scrub at my face fiercely. Raiten finally turns around.

  “Sorina? Are you alright?”

  I nod, turning away from him and wiping away the last of my tears. Why are YOU crying? Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot!

  I try stretching out of my cot nonchalantly, raising my arms high to the sky.

  “Did Hypna do something, Sorina? What did you two talk about?”

  I scoff. And he’s still worried about me. He’s such an idiot. Laughter nearly bubbles up, but I stifle it.

  I have to remember, not all of the memories were so bad. Raiten taking care of me, telling my sickly body stories of his sortie. Dabbing cloth to my sweating forehead. Carefully feeding me before taking a single bite himself.

  Waiting for me to wake up.

  And how did you treat him afterwards? I bite back the bile of that thought, and instead, throw on a half-smile before turning around.

  “We sorted it out. Came to an…understanding.”

  “I see. That’s good I guess.” Raiten stares at me for a moment too long before turning back to pack his things. “We should go. I got lucky that Thraevirula didn’t attack last night, so maybe, if we move quickly enough today, we can get out of her range, reach beyond the Red Forest and finally get back to Takemeadow tomorrow—”

  I hug his back. His muscles stiffen and his body seems to freeze altogether, hands pausing mid-rope-tie.

  “What’s this for?” Raiten asks cautiously.

  I am so tempted to tell him it’s alright. It wasn’t your fault. But then he’d know I’m talking about Kiren—and he’d know how I’d transgressed his memories.

  So instead, I just laugh. “You look like you need one of these.”

  He blows his lips, as if about to argue against me.

  However, he doesn’t. And he just stays there, allowing me to hold him.

  For as long as I want.