Ren’wyn’s own magic was harder to share.The Void always felt familiar and comfortable under the Masters’ guidance, but public displays of her power were complicated.The spoken and unspoken prejudices of her classmates kept her confidence tightly tethered.More than anything, Ren’wyn longed to be normal—small and tame enough to fade into the background—even though the Void sang in her veins, often eclipsing the power of her Masters.
While Peria’s openness never wavered, Esrin’s passing comments betrayed the prejudices he had absorbed about dark mages.Rumors of dark magic fueled by murder lingered beneath even his kind words.Ren’wyn didn’t mind suppressing her power in his presence; his comfort and attention felt worth the trade.Still, she knew that for Esrin to see her as more than a friend, he would need to witness her magic.
One winter afternoon, she led Esrin and Peria into the woods, hoping the cold would soften the Void’s unearthly chill.Stilling her mind, she focused on her breathing.After two months together, Ren’wyn trusted Esrin enough to share this part of herself.
Cold shadows materialized around her hands, tendrils curling through the winter air like living mist.The Void’s song swelled in her blood, truth and hope flowing through her like ink in water.Peria’s deep blue aura surrounded her with love and trust, but Esrin gasped audibly, steppingback.
The shadows wreathed Ren’wyn, clinging to her like lovers.At a flick of her fingers, shadowy dust danced around Peria’s feet, drawing a quiet breath of wonder from her.The shades stirred, whispering softly, their voices like a breeze through dry leaves.Peria’s empathic energy magnified the calm harmony between magic and mage, amplifying it tenfold.
But when Ren’wyn turned her magic toward Esrin, he recoiled.
“No,” he gasped.
The shame was instant and consuming.Her power drained away under Esrin’s frightened gaze.The shadows fled, the whispers silenced.Even Peria stepped back, unwilling to confront Esrin’s disapproval.
Run.
The thought was overwhelming.Ren’wyn turned toward campus, the woods suddenly cold and lifeless.Gone was the glory of white branches and the flit of chickadees; even the silence felt hollow.Only Esrin’s green aura remained in her periphery, but it was no longer comforting—it was the green of sickness and decay.
“Ren’wyn,” Esrin called, chasing after her.“Ren’wyn!”
He caught her shoulder, spinning her to face him.His aura had dimmed to near invisibility, and his face was stricken.
“Ren’wyn, I’m…” Esrin faltered.“It’s new, that’s all.Give me time.Give me a chance.”
His sorrow fed on her compassion.He knew he had hurt her and regretted it.She nodded to show she heard him but found herself at a loss for words.The encounter had stirred her deepest fears—the fear of rejection and the memory of Erst’s cruelty.
“Give me time too,” she whispered, turning toward the dorms.
That evening, a bouquet of three dozen blood-red amaryllis arrived for Ren’wyn, studded with pine and fir covered in magical frost.The frost thawed quickly, but the effect was breathtaking.Attached was a simplenote:
I’m sorry.Please forgive me.
Her heart thawed like the frosty evergreen as she read it.When she saw Esrin again, she hugged him and kissed his cheek, leaving his face pink.But from that point on, she refrained from inviting him to her practices or solitary trips to the woods.
When spring arrived to dispel winter’s end, Peria developed a nasty cough, but she urged Ren’wyn to attend their Friday evening at Esrin’s without her.Ren’wyn didn’t want to leave her alone and miserable, but Peria insisted.Relenting, Ren’wyn bundled up for the shortwalk.
Esrin opened the apartment door, and she handed him a bottle ofwine.
“No Peria?”he asked, glancing behind her curiously.
“No Peria,” she confirmed.“She caught whatever’s going around in the self-defense class she’s tutoring.Nasty cough, but no fever.”
“I hate being sick.Come in.”He smiled, his eyes warm and bright.
At the table, Esrin opened the soup tureen and passed her a roll.Without Peria’s teasing and loud commentary, the room felt vast and empty.The silence fueled her social anxiety, that same unease that had always made parties and gatherings difficult.
“I love winter,” Esrin remarked, breaking the silence with a smile, seemingly at ease.“My power has always thrived in winter too.Whenever I could sneak away, I practiced in the snow.My mother used to say I was like one of the gods of old when I drove the winter to my bidding.”
He swirled his wine, the way he always did while thinking.Meeting her eyes across the table, he sipped from the glass.
“Winter is when most people die,” she said before catching his expression.His face paled.“Sorry, that was bleak.I mean, winter is when my power feels strongest.The Void isn’t pleased that people die, and not all of them become shades.Many move on, fulfilled, beyond the Void.Some winters were harder at home—hiding my awareness of the shadows that lingered in every corner.Other winters, especially the gentler ones, I escaped to the forest to work with my power, keeping it subdued athome.”
Esrin leaned back from his empty bowl and plate, swirling his wine again.Ren’wyn squirmed uncomfortably in her chair at the returning silence.
“I’m sore,” he admitted.“Hard day in the training ring.Let’s sit on the couch.”
So many nights here had been spent happily, filled with games, jokes, and stories.As they walked to the couch, wine glasses in hand, Ren’wyn felt her tension ease.The three of them had carved out a new space together.Gone was the desperate need to complete every assignment perfectly to impress Vair.No longer did concerns about Lyr’ren dominate her waking thoughts.Here, with socked feet intertwined with hers, sat evidence that someone else could occupy that space in hermind.
