Stars & Night

[Fragile]

I tossed the book across the room with a frustrated grunt, which was quickly followed by a pained groan. The movement had stretched the healing wound at my chest, causing tingles of pain to radiate over my body.

None of the books Xiaden had brought me had shed any light on what I was here to do, why my mother had told me to look to the past for my purpose. All of the ancient text and history was vague on the history of the Sahnad Kingdom's rise to power, detailing very few battles and negotiations between other powers and Kingdoms across the land. Oddly there was also very little mention of light benders at all. Xiaden had told me that the world hadn't seen light benders in one thousand years, but their place in history seemed to have been wiped from the books, even their extinction hardly documented. Just brief mentions of benders that were not 'as strong' as the shadow benders, their lines eventually dying off since their healing power and strength was 'lesser'.

My mind flashed back to the battlefield. The wilding's sword buried in my chest, the marks of a shadow bender wrapping up their wrist. I'd re-lived that moment over and over again, questioning each time if I'd actually seen those marks, or if it was something I had hallucinated in my intense pain. And with each time I revisited that memory, I became more and more sure of what I'd seen. But I wouldn't tell a soul until I had more evidence, or even an inkling of an understanding, why a shadow bender would be fighting for the wildlings. 

Or why they'd try to kill me.

But my research of the wildlings' history was just as fruitless as the rest. There were only very basic descriptions of the wildlings and the magik they wielded, and nothing that even mentioned the dark magik the Tactics professor had spoken of. 

Either the historians here had been significantly under qualified, or there was something they were omitting. That they were choosing to hide.

I picked up the next book in the pile on my nightstand titled "Shadow Benders: Natural History". I flipped through the pages of detailed depictions. One illustrated a frightening, demon-like creature, with black feathers and a beak, another with wings like Xiaden's and sharp fangs. It detailed the maturation process of shadow benders, and how only some, born of powerful lines, could make these sorts of transformations. In ancient times, these benders had been revered as Gods, the more gruesome and terrifying their transformation, the more worship and following they received.

I thumbed through the next few pages. A large wing was sprawled across the page, drawings of bones, sinews, and tendons. Next to it a short description. My eyes scanned the short paragraph.

Very sensitive areas of the wing (figure A, exhibit b. and d.). Stimulation can cause arousal. Prolonged stimulation can lead to completion.

I shuddered at the thought of how the scientist had uncovered such a fact, and abruptly closed the book, adding it to my pile of those filled with unhelpful information.

It had been almost a week since Xiaden had brought me these books, the most the librarian would let him take at once.

I'd forced myself out of bed the third day after he'd left, and brought it upon myself to make the long trek across the grounds to retrieve more books from the library. I had been deemed unfit to return to training, my slow healing a blessing since my research thus far had been unsuccessful.

I walked through the halls, feeling like a ghost, not able to participate in any of the daily activities of the recruits, but forced to stay within the castle walls as its silent prisoner.

When I made my way around one of the corners, I heard voices coming from one of the many lounge rooms that lined the castle corridors. Usually I simply passed by, getting glimpses of recruits gathered playing card games or laughing with one another. But there was a voice I recognized that caused my steps to slow.