Nox’s eyes snapped open to the darkness of the forest, the dream still clinging to him. The old anger churned in his gut, thick and familiar.
"Damn it all," he cursed, his voice a low growl that was swallowed by the night. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his muscles protesting with a constant ache. The fire had burned down to a small pile of embers that gave off a faint red light.
His gaze fell on Serian. She sat on the other side of the fire, her back against a tree, her sword resting across her lap. Her head kept nodding forward before she would jerk it back up, her body fighting a losing battle with sleep.
’She’s going to fall over,’ he thought. ’She’s no good to me half-asleep.’
He stood up, his boots making a soft sound on the dead leaves. He walked around the fire and stopped in front of her. She didn’t seem to notice him until he was right there.
"Go to sleep," he said, his voice quiet but firm.
She jolted, her eyes flying open, her hand tightening on her sword. For a second, she looked ready for a fight, then her eyes focused on him. "I’m fine," she insisted, but her voice was rough with sleep. "My watch is not over."
He just shook his head, unimpressed by her attempt to sound awake. "You look like you’re about to pass out," he told her flatly. "You’re a liability like that, not a guard."
Her jaw tightened, and she looked like she was about to argue, but the fight just wasn’t in her. She let out a small sigh, the tension leaving her shoulders. "I’m... more tired than I thought."
"I know," he said. He nudged the rolled-up blanket with his foot. "Get some rest, princess. You need it more than I do."
She watched him for a long moment, then gave a slow, reluctant nod. She laid her sword down carefully beside her before moving to the blanket. She wrapped it around herself, her movements slow and weary.
Nox took her place against the tree. He picked up a long, thin stick and poked at the embers of the fire. He coaxed a few small flames back to life. He sat there, staring into the small blaze, the quiet of the forest settling around him.
"You had a nightmare," she said from behind him. Her voice was just a soft sound in the night.
He froze for a second, the stick pausing in the embers. He didn’t turn around. "How would you know?"
"You were speaking in your sleep," she explained. "Just a few words. But you woke with such... anger."
He grunted, a noncommittal sound, and tossed the stick into the flames. It sparked, then caught, its light moving on his face. "Just a stupid dream."
"What is it you dream of, Nox?" she asked, her curiosity gentle but persistent.
He stayed silent, his back to her. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to give those memories any more power than they already had. ’It’s none of her business.’
She didn’t push him, but she didn’t let the silence hang there either. "In my world," she said, her voice thoughtful, "dreams are sometimes seen as echoes of the soul. They show us what we fear, or what we have lost."
He finally turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "Yeah? What do you dream about then?" he asked, turning the question back on her. It was a deflection, but he was also a little curious.
She was quiet for a moment, her own gaze lost in the fire. "I dream of Lifewoods, my home," she began, her voice taking on a softer quality. "I see the sun through the high branches of the ancient trees. I hear the music of my people." Her expression saddened. "But sometimes, I dream of the day it was attacked. Of the betrayal."
’Betrayal,’ he thought, the word snagging his attention. He turned fully to face her, his interest piqued. "You mentioned that before. What happened?"
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "We had an accord with a clan of humans who lived on the edge of our lands," she explained. "We believed they were our allies, our friends. But they were seduced by Gorok’s promises of power." Her voice became cold. "They showed his forces the hidden paths, the weaknesses in our defenses. They led the hounds to our homes."
He listened, the firelight moving in his eyes. He didn’t say anything. Her story, with its magic and kingdoms, was a world away from his own, but the core of it was painfully familiar. Being turned on by people you thought you could trust.
"People suck," he said finally, the statement simple and absolute.
A small, sad smile touched her lips. "They can be," she agreed. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. "Is that what you dream of? People... like that?"
He let out a long, slow breath and looked away from her, back at the fire. "Something like that," he admitted, his voice low. "My old school. The people there." He didn’t go into the ugly details of fists and toilets, but he didn’t have to. The quiet bitterness in his voice said enough. "I was a target. Every day. And I was always alone."
The confession hung in the air between them, plain and unadorned. It wasn’t a plea for pity; it was just a fact, stated as simply as the color of the sky.
"So that is why you fight with such fury," she said softly, her voice full of a sudden, deep understanding. "That is why you seek power. To never be weak again."
He looked back at her, a little surprised she had understood so quickly, so completely. "Yeah," he said, the word coming out a little rough. "That’s about it."
"I understand that feeling," she said, her gaze steady. "But that power you wield, the dark one... it feels as though it is born from that same pain. Be careful it does not consume you, Nox."
’She gets it,’ he thought, a strange feeling settling in his chest. ’She actually gets it, more than those gods do with all their damn commentary.’ He just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He didn’t know how to respond to genuine concern.
"I can handle it," he said after a moment, the words his default defense.
"I hope that you can," she replied.
She finally lay down, pulling the blanket up to her chin and turning on her side to face away from the fire. "Your watch now, Nox."
He watched her for a moment until her breathing evened out into the slow rhythm of sleep. He turned back to the fire, the clearing quiet once more. The conversation had left him feeling... strange.