When I awoke on the morning after my brother’s testing, my first thought was how healing Cascade had felt almost like directing sunlight in the daytime, except there’d been no sunlight to direct. Was that what it was like to be a Nightbringer? I had no idea, but it didn’t feel like that was right. Everyone knew that Nightbringing was completely different from Dawncalling. Incompatible. One was a push and one was a pull. And Nightbringers possessed the magic they used. Dawncallers used the magic the sun possessed. Opposites.
So, what had I done?
“Seren?” Mother said softly.
I released the furrow in my brow and opened my eyes. Mother was sitting beside my bed.
“Where’s Cade?” I asked.
Pre-dawn light filtered in through the window.
“Resting,” Mother said, reaching over to touch my hand. “I thought you might be waking soon. How do you feel?”
“Confused,” I confessed. “But glad.”
Mother nodded.
“In line with the consensus, then,” she told me. “Just about everyone feels the same.”
“Even the elders?” I asked with some hesitation.
“Well,” Mother said, “the elders haven’t said anything one way or the other. They’re in conclave.”
I nodded. Anything unusual resulted in the elders holding a conclave. And what I’d done was a little bit beyond unusual.
“What can they say?” I asked, musing aloud. Then I frowned. “Can they say anything?”
Mother squeezed my hand.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Seren,” she told me fervently.
“I… I know,” I said. “But… it wasn’t normal.”
“No,” Mother agreed. “Not normal. But not wrong.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
She squeezed my hand again.
I nodded and hummed in assent. Then I wrinkled my nose.
“I’m late for lessons,” I said with a sigh.
“Morning lessons were cancelled,” Mother said. “Both Primes and all the Factors are in Conclave with the Elders.”
“Wow,” I said in stunned surprise.
I couldn’t remember the last time the Elders had met with both Primes.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
Mother looked at me with surprise and then left to answer the knock. I rose and followed her, wrapping a robe around myself.
“Dawncaller Prime,” Mother said as she opened the door.
“Nightbringer Clarity,” the Prime said formally. “Seren is needed for a tribunal.”
Mother inhaled and then exhaled a slow breath.
“When?” she asked with tense resignation.
“Sunrise,” Dawncaller Prime said apologetically.
“That’s now,” Mother said in a protesting tone.
“They didn’t wish to wait for Dusk,” the Prime said in the same tone that suggested he was merely the messenger and didn’t necessarily agree with what he was conveying.
Mother sighed and turned to look at me with worry written across her face.
“Get dressed, baby,” she said.
I nodded and ducked back into my room.
I got dressed quickly while I fretted about what the Elders wanted from me. Like Mother had said, I hadn’t done anything wrong. But what I had done was not normal. Impossible, really. Or legendary, I supposed. There were stories about the Midnight Sun. I didn’t know all of them.
When I came out, I saw that Mother had gotten our neighbor to come over, presumably to watch Cascade while she went with me to the tribunal.
Mother and I walked to the village center in silence. Or, at least, we didn’t talk, but people around us did, mostly in hushed whispers. I felt like I’d grown a second head for all the staring and gossip. But in a way, I suppose I had grown a second head. Or done something just as surprising.
We gained a train of followers as we walked, and it seemed like more than half the village was assembled when we reached the dais. I saw both Primes, several of the Elders, almost all of the Nightbringers who’d attended the midnight testing, and a wide selection of other villagers. The crowd let Mother and me pass, a whispered hush falling over them as we went up to the dais.
All six Elders were present, three dressed in Dawncaller gold, three dressed in Nightbringer black, each sitting in a high-backed chair that had been brought out for them. They were flanked by a single Prime and a pair of Factors, each standing to the side of the row of chairs.
As Mother and I mounted the dais, one of the seated Dawncallers, Elder Merit, stood and raised her arm, signalling for quiet from the crowd. She held the pose until silence fell. Once the audience was still, Elder Merit looked at me.
“Serendipity Waters,” she said in a commanding voice that easily carried across the entire village green, “you have been identified as the Midnight Sun. How do you respond?”
I took a deep breath.
“I-I’m not sure, Elder Merit,” I said, my own voice falling well short of her volume. I didn’t even know if all the Elders or the Primes could hear me.
“Are you the Midnight Sun?” Elder Merit asked in a patient tone.
“I don’t know,” I said uncomfortably, shifting my weight and wringing my hands.
A murmur went through the crowd.
“We have more than a dozen sworn witnesses who claim they watched you pull sunlight when the sun was absent from the sky,” Elder Merit said gravely. “Do you dispute their testimony?”
“No, Elder,” I whispered.
“Did you pull sunlight when the sun was absent from the sky?” the Elder asked me directly.
“I-I believe so,” I said, still squirming.
“You believe so?” Elder Merit echoed with a note of disapproval. “Or you did?”
I shifted my weight some more and grimaced.
“I guess I did?” I said in a hesitant tone, phrasing it more as a question. “I mean, I did. But, that’s impossible.”
“Unless you are the Midnight Sun,” Elder Merit said. Her tone and expression were expectant.
I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me. Did she expect me to say it?
I didn’t want to be the Midnight Sun. I didn’t even know what it meant. Not really. I just wanted my life to go back to normal. The only reason I’d even tried to channel the sun at midnight was to save my brother’s life. Well, the first time. The second time, I’d just done it on command.
“So, Serendipity Waters…?” the Elder prompted.
I grimaced.
“So…” I started feeling like I didn’t have much choice, “I think I might be the Midnight Sun.”
Another murmur went through the crowd, but I just stared at my feet.
“Do you know what that means, child?” asked one of the Nightbringer Elders.
“No, Elder,” I said, barely glancing at him before dropping my gaze again.
The crowd murmured again and I felt my cheeks grow hot.
“Did your teachers not tell you the tale of Dusk-at-Midday and Dawn-at-Midnight?” another Elder asked in a scandalized tone.
“I-I’m sure they did, ma’am, but I didn’t pay much attention to the old stories,” I confessed in a quiet, guilty tone.
Another murmur and some muted laughter made its way through the crowd.
“And the Midnight Sun shall come again,” Dawncaller Prime said in a quiet but powerful voice, “to sing without the sun, to call the light in darkest night and push at brightest noon.”
I’d heard the rhyme before, but I’d never really thought it meant anything important. It was a myth.
Or so I’d thought.
“So, um, what does that… mean?” I asked tentatively, glancing at the assembled Elders, Primes, and Factors.
“It means you have approximately ninety dusks before you must pull dawn at the Day Shrine on midwinter midnight,” one of the Nightbringer Elders said, “and then one hundred and eighty dawns later you must push dusk on midsummer midday at the Shrine of Night.”
I forgot to stare at my feet and instead gaped at the Elder.
“It takes nearly that long to get to the Day Shrine!” I protested. “And the Shrine of Night is in the opposite direction!”
“Which is why you must leave immediately,” Elder Merit said firmly.
“And I can’t push dusk,” I protested. “I’m not a Nightbringer.”
“You must learn,” Nightbringer Prime said firmly.
“How? There’s no time if I have to leave immediately,” I protested.
“You will study on the way,” Nightfactor Hale said, looking disturbingly gleeful. “Your instructor has already been chosen. Or, volunteered, as it were.”
“What?” I asked, frowning at Hale. “Who?”
“Nightminstrel Wren Mulberry,” the Nightfactor said with a glint in his eye.
I felt my mouth fall open, and I heard the named young man sputter.
I hadn’t known Wren was a minstrel—a keeper of chants. To achieve the rank, he must have proven to have memorized several dozen spells. Or, so I assumed, since a Dayminstrel had to know at least several dozen melodies. It seemed Wren had been busy in the time since he and I had been friends.
“Nightfactor—” Wren said, stepping forward.
“Surely I will be allowed to go with my daughter,” Mother said defiantly, interrupting Wren.
“You will not,” Elder Merit said to Mother. “Your son is recovering from a grave wound and was just raised to the Night. You have obligations here.”
“But my daughter—” Mother tried again.
“Is of age,” Elder Merit said firmly. It was true, but barely. “And she will not be unprotected.”
Mother gaped at the Elder and then turned to look at me with wide eyes.
“Serendipity,” she whispered.
“I-I’ll be fine, Mother,” I said, though I said the words solely to reassure her. I didn’t really believe them. At least I could add something honest: “You need to stay with Cade.”
“My baby,” Mother said, cupping my cheek. Then she turned to the Elders. “You said she will not be unprotected, but who else will accompany her? If she is learning to push on this journey, then she will need protection under the sun.”
“Indeed,” Elder Merit said, inclining her head to Mother. Then the old woman turned to the assembled crowd. “Who would accompany the Midnight Sun and be her guard during the day?”
“I will,” two voices said in perfect unison.
I couldn’t help but smile with affection when the pair stepped forward, glancing at one another: Quintessence Aspen and her brother, Noble. I felt a wave of relief to know they wanted to go with me on my unforseen adventure.
“Dawncaller Quin, Dayguard Noble,” the Dawncaller Prime said fondly. “I do believe your close relationship with Seren qualify you for this endeavor. Noble, you will accompany the Midnight Sun on this journey.”
Noble nodded, his expression neutral but his posture proud.
“As for you, Quin,” the Prime went on, “I am afraid I cannot grant you this request. Like Nightbringer Clarity, you have obligations here.”
“But—” Quin started.
She cut herself off and pursed her lips when the Prime raised his hand.
“Your dedication to your friend speaks to your character,” he said fondly, “but this is not a picnic outing. Your request is denied.”
Quin gaped at the Prime for a moment, then she crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin.
“Fine,” she said with clear disapproval. I was mildly surprised that Quin had accepted the Prime’s decree without further arguing, but I didn’t have time to ponder the point, since Quin spoke to the Prime again as she glanced at her brother. “Shouldn’t Seren have a Nightguard with her for this quest as well?”
“Indeed,” said Nightfactor Hale, “which is why Wren is so perfect for the position.”
“Wren’s a minstrel and a guard?” Quin blurted out, echoing my thoughts.
Wren had been very busy the last few years, it seemed.
“He is,” Hale said, nodding gleefully.
“Nightfactor,” Wren said stiffly, “like Nightbringer Clarity, I have obligations that I—”
“You seemed quite intent on aiding her last night, boy,” Hale said with an odd edge to the words.
“Yes, sir, but—” Wren tried again.
“And you are one of only two Nightguards who is also a Nightminstrel,” Hale went on.
“Yes, but—” Wren started.
“And you have a reputation for being excellent with teaching children,” Hale continued, emphasizing the last word slightly as though to make the statement into an insult.
“Father, please—” Wren said in a strained tone of voice.
I gasped.
I hadn’t known that Wren’s father was a Nightfactor. How had I not known that? I wracked my brain and tried to remember any conversations we’d had about our parents. It had been so long ago. But Wren’s demeanor and seriousness suddenly made more sense.
“You are uniquely qualified,” Hale said, “and the Elders, Prime, and my fellow Factor have all agreed that you shall accompany Serendipity Waters on this… errand.”
I watched Wren flex and fist his hands at his sides as he stared at his father.
“As you say,” Wren finally said stiffly and through clenched teeth.
“The three of you shall depart at third corner,” Elder Merit said.
Wren, Noble, and I all started to protest, but Elder Merit raised a hand again.
“This mission is of utmost importance,” she said once we were quiet. “And you will have to travel on a schedule that allows for Serendipity to learn to push. It will require adjustment for all three of you.”
“Elder,” Wren said, still speaking in a stilted tone, “I’ve been awake since third corner last.”
“Then go sleep,” Merit said. “Supplies shall be prepared for you.”
Wren gave a jerky nod and then turned on his heel and left the green.
Elder Merit turned to me.
“You should rest, too,” she said gently.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said mechanically. It did seem like good advice, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to sleep while the sun was up.
My head was reeling with everything that had happened in the last few degrees, let alone the last quarter.
“Oh, my baby,” Mother said quietly, wrapping one arm around my shoulders.
“I have no idea what I’m doing, Mother,” I whispered back.
“I believe in you,” she replied, giving me a squeeze.
“I hope that’s enough,” I said darkly. I still felt overwhelmed and more than a little like I might wake up at any moment. Everything was happening so fast.
“You have strength,” Mother said. “More than you know.”
“I hope so,” I said with uncertainty.
“Seren!” Quin called. I turned to see her and her brother heading our direction.
“Quin,” I said with a mix of relief and desperation. I slipped out from under Mother’s arm and embraced by friend. “I can’t believe you tried to volunteer. I appreciate it, but also, what were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about you, silly,” Quin said, hugging me tightly.
I closed my eyes for a moment and held her, then I opened my eyes to look at Noble.
“Thank you,” I said to him. “I know you’re probably just going for Quin’s sake, but I appreciate it all the same.”
Noble looked uncomfortable for a moment. He cleared his throat. Quin snorted.
“I’m glad I can help,” Noble said, looking a little pink.
I guessed he was embarrassed to be called out on his devotion to Quin. Despite being older than both of us, he’d tagged along for lots of the adventures Quin and I had in late childhood. He and Quin were close, and Noble had gotten one or both of us out of trouble on more than one occasion. I felt less nervous about the quest knowing that I’d have a familiar and friendly face with me.
“Thank you,” I repeated.
Noble smiled a crooked smile at me and then looked away.
The Aspen siblings sheared off from Mother’s and my path as we approached home. I wished them both well, and they reminded me they’d see me in a couple corners.
That reminded me of what I was doing, which set off another wave of anxiety.
Mother noticed my shoulders tightening and pulled me into the kitchen. She lit a fire in the stove and put on the kettle. She didn’t make tea, as I’d assumed she would. Instead, I was surprised when she added honey and a heavy splash of fragrant whiskey to my cup.
“To help you sleep,” she said with a sympathetic smile.
The honey helped mask the alcohol, but the beverage still made me wrinkle my nose. But less than a quarter-corner later, I felt pleasantly warm and sleepy. I sighed happily as mother tucked me into her bed, in the room with heavy curtains over the window to seal out sunlight. The room was dark and cool, and the bed was soft, and I soon found myself drifting to sleep, the night and day’s events completely absent from my mind.
Mother woke me at half-past midday. I found she had already packed for me. I could tell by the circles under her eyes that she hadn’t slept.
I was sad to find Cascade still sleeping. I’d hoped I could bid him a proper farewell, but Mother assured me that she’d fill him in on everything that had happened and give him my love. I thanked her again and bid her a tearful goodbye as we met Quin, Noble, and an even more grumpy than usual looking Wren at the village gate.
There was a crowd again, come to see us off. I watched as Noble hugged his parents, Quin, and their younger siblings each in turn. Wren kissed his sister on her cheek. He nodded to his father. A stoic family.
Wren caught me staring, and I looked away immediately. I didn’t catch his reaction, whatever it was.
The Elders provided us with a wagon and a mule, but the cart was stocked with food, water, and supplies, so there wasn’t room for any of us to ride, at least for the first leg of our journey.
With the sun hung three-quarters the way across the sky—third corner—we set out toward Zenith, heading north along the main road.
Once again, the absurdity of my quest hit me. I felt a bit like a puppet in a play, pulled along by strings over which I had no power. Even if I did what was told in the stories, what would it mean? I didn’t know. Maybe I didn’t want to. Regardless, my path was set, my companions were dedicated, and I didn’t really have a choice.
Noble took point of our party, leading the mule with his left hand and holding the haft of his longspear in his right. His bow and quiver hung from the side of the cart. He wore his hunting garb: a close-cut outfit of greens and browns that covered him from neck to toe, a hat with a wide brim to shade his eyes, and a loose scarf around his neck that he could pull up over his face to make himself even less visible in the brush.
Noble set a fairly comfortable pace, but I knew I’d get tired long before he did. I wasn’t sure where Wren stood in the ranking for physical fortitude. Probably higher than I did, since he was also a guard.
Wren walked on the other side of the cart from Noble. He was dressed in darker colors, as Nightbringers often were. The hood of his travel cloak was down, and he had the fabric of the right side pinned at his shoulder to keep the cloth from interfering with his sword arm. The weapon hung from his belt. The left side of his cloak draped around him, concealing half of his outfit. Like Noble, he wore boots and leather breeches, but Wren’s shirt was looser and cut differently, with front laces and sleeves that barely covered his elbows. As he walked, I saw flashes of orange at his left wrist. He’d worn the braided cord there for as long as I’d known him, but I never asked him why. I didn’t know if it was simple decoration or if it had some significance to him. I guessed the latter, from what I knew of Wren.
I wore my cloak, a straw-colored woolen thing with a lightweight lining to keep it from scratching me, over a cream blouse that was cut similarly to Wren’s shirt. I’d gone back and forth on wearing a skirt or trousers, and I’d ultimately decided on a comfortable skirt. As days grew colder, I thought a skirt and leggings would offer more warmth than trousers would.
We walked in silence for nearly a quarter. As dusk approached and shadows grew long, I found myself glancing more frequently at Noble and Wren. Sunset would shift the balance of power between them, stealing Noble’s magic but giving Wren access to his. But it wouldn’t affect me. That still felt strange, but I knew it to be true.
When the sun neared the horizon, Noble brought the mule to a halt. He looked at Wren. The men exchanged a nod. Then Wren took a deep breath and began the Dusk Chant.
I didn’t expect the strength of his voice. Maybe I assumed he’d chant under his breath like I’d heard Mother do when she was pushing something at home. But Wren chanted Dusk as though there were a hundred voices with him, loud and strong, pushing the sun out of the sky. I simply stared at first, surprised and impressed, and then I took a step toward him, took a breath, and joined in.
Wren glanced at me as my voice joined his. He gave a ghost of a nod, which reassured me that I’m made the right choice. Then he turned back to the sunset, watching the colors blossom across the sky, painting the horizon in red and orange.
It was beautiful.
I hadn’t chanted dusk since I’d been raised a Dawncaller. I still heard the chant every sunset as the Nightcallers and untested children joined in, but I hadn’t given voice to the familiar anthem in years.
Noble came to stand beside me. He flashed me a grin, and then he joined in, too, though he kept his voice far softer than Wren’s and mine. I appreciated the show of solidarity, though it seemed like perhaps Wren didn’t. I caught his frown, and then he raised his voice even louder.
When the sun disappeared, both men sighed, each sound flavored by different emotion. Noble’s exhalation was tinged with a sort of wistfulness I was accustomed to hearing from my fellow Dawncallers after the source of our power dipped out of sight. Conversely, Wren’s vocalization contained a bass purr and a decadent edge. I didn’t personally feel anything at the fallen darkness, but I could imagine he felt something like the way I felt at sunrise, when the first rays of dawn caught me and filled me with liquid fire.
Or maybe I was completely wrong. I wasn’t a Nightbringer, and they worked completely differently than Dawncallers did. Our power came from the sun, Wren’s came from within himself. His ability to access his power was just somehow dampened during the day.
“I don’t feel anything,” I said quietly.
Both men looked at me.
“Do you still feel the sun?” Noble asked, cocking his head to the side.
I shook my head.
“But you can still reach it,” Wren said, not asking. There was an almost bitter edge to his clipped comment.
“I… guess so,” I said, wringing my hands. I looked away from the boys and shifted my weight.
Silence spread out for a moment.
“We should keep moving,” Wren said, breaking the quiet, “while we still have twilight’s glow.”
“I agree,” Noble said, taking up the mule’s lead again. “We can set up camp at full dark.”
Wren made a small noise of displeasure.
“I suppose that’s best for the animal,” he said reluctantly.
“It’s best for all of us, if we don’t want to break our ankles,” I said. I hesitated. “And then, um, you and I-I can…”
Wren nodded and made soft hum of agreement when I stuttered and trailed off.
I glanced at Noble and caught his grimace before he coaxed the mule forward.
We continued marching along the dusty road as the shadows slowly swallowed the last glow of the fallen sun. As stars became visible in the sky, the road all but disappeared, and the mule slowed and eventually balked at continuing.
“It seems we’ve reached our campsite,” Noble said softly.
“I’ll start a fire,” Wren said with easy confidence.
His voice was closer to me than I’d expected. When last I’d really seen him, he’d been on the other side of the cart. When had he circled it?
“I’ll just stay near the wagon,” I said as I stretched my legs. We’d only walked for a quarter, but it seemed longer. Neither of my travel companions was terribly talkative. That also made time seem slow.
“Can you pull down the bedrolls, Seren?” Noble called from somewhere near the mule. I could hear him fiddling with the beast’s harness.
“I think so,” I said, rising to my tiptoes. I felt along the edge of the cart, poking bundles and boxes until I found the right set of lumps.
I heard the strike of a flint, and then sparks appeared to my right, followed by a small flame that illuminated the side of Wren’s face. His eyes were slate grey and his lips were moving. I couldn’t hear what he was chanting under his breath, but I’d seen and heard my mother chant up a fire hundreds of times. Within moments, he had a decent sized campfire crackling merrily on the side of the road.
I pulled down the bedrolls from the back of the cart and tossed them to the ground near the fire.
Noble got the mule situated for the night and then came to help me lay out the bedrolls. We’d just finished when Wren made an odd hissing sound, drawing our attention.
“Someone’s coming,” he said in a low murmur. He was still squatting near the fire, but his posture seemed less casual.
“Someone?” Noble asked in a whisper. He shifted from sitting on his knees to a crouch and reached for his spear. “Or something?”
“How would you even tell?” I asked the pair of them.
Wren shushed me, and I sighed in annoyance.
“Definitely a person,” he said after a moment.
I wasn’t sure what he was listening for.
“Why don’t they have a light?” Noble posited, his forehead creased. He shifted closer to Wren and whatever noises they both heard, putting me behind him.
Wren didn’t reply. He kept peering out into the darkness in the direction from which we’d come.
I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to breathe.
“What—” I started to ask, but I cut off when Wren stood up and assumed a defensive stance. He began chanting under his breath.
The fire flared, and I saw a silhouette on the road. A lone traveller with a pack of some kind was heading directly toward us.
“Identify yourself,” Wren called out.
The fire dimmed while he spoke and then flared again as he resumed his chant.
Beside me, Noble inhaled audibly and rose to his feet.
“Quin?” he said in an incredulous tone.
“Cloudless sky!” the traveller said at the same time. “I finally caught up to you.”
Her voice was unmistakable. It was Quin.
“Dawn and Dusk, Quintessence,” Noble said with clear disapproval.
“Quin! What are you doing out here?” I blurted out in surprise and confusion.
“Are you alone?” Wren asked warily.
We all spoke at the same time, and the silhouette of my friend froze at the onslaught.
“I thought at least one of you would be glad to see me,” Quin said in a petulant tone.
Noble, Wren, and I all spoke over one another again:
“Does Father know you’re out here?”
“Are you alone?”
“What were you thinking, following me?”
Quin let out a huff of breath.
“No, Father doesn’t know,” she said. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “And of course I’m alo—”
“Then who is that?” Wren asked sharply, gesturing to a shadowy silhouette behind Quin.
Quin squeaked and jumped when Wren cut her off. She spun to look behind her as I gaped at the unidentified figure. Beside me, Noble shifted his grip on his spear.
The shadow behind Quin stepped forward and raised its arms.
“Peace, Wren,” the figure said in a deep voice. “I harbor no malice.”
Wren’s posture immediately changed to something more relaxed.
“Elder Sanctum,” Wren said with an odd mix of defence and surprise. “Forgive me, but why are you following is?”
Quin scurried forward into the light, followed by the measured (and silent) steps of the cloaked Elder. The old man pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing a kind, wrinkled face.
“I saw the girl slinking off after you and decided to ensure her safe arrival,” the elder said.
“Cloudless sky,” Quin said in a rush of air, “you're quiet for an old man.”
I heard Wren cluck his tongue and Noble sigh. I had to stifle a snort. The Elder didn’t seem bothered by Quin’s outburst. He offered her a crooked grin.
“Being quiet is an excellent skill for becoming an old man,” the Elder said in an amused tone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
Sanctum inclined his head to Quin and then to me. He nodded at the two boys. Then he turned to leave.
“Wait, you're not going to drag me back to the village?” Quin asked with clear surprise.
The old man paused and looked over his shoulder at Quin.
“Why ever would I do that?” he said. “Even if I did, wouldn't your return be temporary at best?”
I did snort at that.
I thought the Elder had the right of it. If Quin was forced back to the village, she would most likely try to follow us again later. By following her, Sanctum had exposed Quin to the least amount of risk given her presumed course of action.
“Thank you, Elder,” I said honestly and respectfully.
“Of course, child,” the Elder said. “I hope she proves useful and not a burden.”
“Doubtful,” Noble said under his breath.
I shot Quin’s brother a dirty look.
“I mean to be useful,” Quin said in a far more serious tone than was typical for her. “I won’t slow Seren down. I promise.”
Sanctum inclined his head toward Quin and then turned to look at me.
“Having loved ones near can give you strength,” the Elder said in a tone of voice that seemed reserved for teachers and parents, “but it can also divide one’s loyalty when the time comes to do what must be done.”
I felt a twinge of nervousness tighten my shoulders and the back of my neck. I could certainly see how having Quin along could be problematic. If anything happened to her, how could I continue with the mission? She wasn’t like Wren or even Noble. She was basically a sister to me. I didn’t like thinking about what I’d do if I had to choose between her and my obligations as the Midnight Sun.
I swallowed the lump growing in my throat and then nodded.
“I understand,” I said, my voice coming out as a bare whisper.
“So, I can stay?” Quin asked, looking nervously between me and the three men.
Four sets of eyes turned to me. I frowned thoughtfully. Having Quin along was a double-edged sword. Even seeing her on the road had made me feel conflicted. I was glad to see her and hear that she still wanted to join me on my quest, but I simultaneously wished she was safe at home in the village.
If I told her I didn’t want her along, I thought I could probably convince her to go back, but I knew I would have to hurt her to do it. I didn’t want that to be how we parted ways.
I took a deep breath and then nodded.
“Of course you can stay,” I said in as light a tone as I could manage. I didn’t want to burden her with the heaviness I felt.
Quin squealed and bounced on her toes. Then she bounded over to me and engulfed me in a hug.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said in an excited whisper. “I won’t let you down.”
“Of course you won’t,” I said with a laugh under my voice.
Noble cleared his throat.
“Do I get a say in the matter?” he asked archly.
“No!” Quin shot at him, making a face.
I pursed my lips.
“Having a fourth person seems smart,” I said carefully. “If I’m going to be on the same schedule as Wren—” I glanced at him as I said his name and found him frowning at Quin. I turned back to Noble “—then having someone else on your shift seems good.”
Noble grimaced but nodded.
“Is your pack filled with food?” Wren asked Quin in an antagonistic tone. “We don’t have supplies for four.”
Quin winced and shifted her weight. I didn’t like Wren’s tone, but he had a point.
“I have a little,” she said guiltily. “But I don’t eat a lot, and Noble can hunt!”
“Hunting takes time,” Noble pointed out. Then he sighed. “But with the speed of the mule, we can probably forage a little, and we might flush out some rabbits or fowl.”
“You can’t eat probably or might,” Wren said levelly.
“We’ll worry about the rations if we get low,” I said, trying to diplomatically take charge. I wondered if this was how Primes felt when their Factors disagreed with them. “Until then, it’s not a concern.”
I held my breath as I looked between my three companions, but they didn’t object.
And then I realized that Elder Sanctum had disappeared.
I let out my breath in a loud puff as I looked around, trying to find the Elder in the shadows beyond the campfire.
“What are you looking for?” Quin asked, sounding concerned.
“Your erstwhile escort,” Noble said, his tone suggesting that he hadn’t noticed the old man’s absence until that moment either.
“Elder Sanctum left when you said the girl could stay,” Wren said to me in a bored-sounding tone.
“The girl has a name,” Quin snapped at Wren.
He dragged his eyes to her, his expression aloof.
“Yes. She does,” Wren replied in the same nonplussed tone. “Does she have a point? Or any useful skills?”
Quin gaped at Wren for a moment, then she took a step toward him. I thrust my arm out, blocking her path.
“Both of you, stop it,” I said with irritation. “All four of us are travelling together now, so, at least try to be civil. Please.”
Quin crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Wren. I knew her well enough to know that was a sign that she was reluctantly complying with my request. Since Quin was settled, I turned to Wren. He returned Quin’s glare for another moment before looking at me. His expression softened slightly, and he pursed his lips.
“I don’t like being outnumbered,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose.
Outnumbered? By Dawncallers? By girls? I didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t really matter.
“You’re not outnumbered,” I said firmly. “We’re a team.”
He frowned at me, but his tight expression reminded me of Quin’s grudging acceptance.
I took a slow, deep breath. I wasn’t used to being in a position of leadership, but it seemed pretty obvious that my three companions were deferential toward me. I’d been the Midnight Sun for less than a full day yet. I didn’t feel different or special. It was strange to have friends and classmates suddenly treating me as if something had changed.
“All right,” I said, since it seemed like everyone was waiting for me. “Quin, set up your sleeping mat over there by Noble. We’ll eat a quick supper, and then you two should get some rest. We’ll wake you… uh…”
“After midnight,” Wren supplied softly.
“After midnight,” I repeated with a grimace and a small nod. I wasn’t looking forward to staying up that late, but Wren couldn’t very well teach me how to push during the day. “Then you can wake us at dawn.”
Noble and Quin nodded, and Wren looked about as excited about waking up at dawn as I did about staying up until midnight.
Or maybe his displeasure was related to having to try to train me. I wasn’t exactly excited about that part, either. Nervous and curious, yes, but not excited.
I examined the loose triangle I’d made with our bedrolls. I pressed my lips together and reevaluated their location. If I was going to have to stay up with Wren, perhaps it would be better to have our sleeping mats on the opposite side of the fire from Noble and Quin’s. It would give us a comfortable place to sit and talk that hopefully wouldn’t bother the siblings or keep them awake.
I caught Wren watching me as I moved the bedrolls. He was hanging a kettle on the cooking stand he’d installed over the campfire. He didn’t say anything, and his expression was stoic, but his attention seemed completely fixed on me. We held one another’s gaze for a moment, and then he yanked his hand back from the kettle’s hook. I guessed the metal had gotten too hot to touch.
I helped Noble distribute rations, and then we ate, squatting or sitting near the fire but off the sleeping mats to avoid getting crumbs or scraps in our bedrolls.
Quin told us about how everyone in the village had still been talking about our departure before she left. Then she monologued about how exciting it was to be going with us. But her animated rambling faded into yawns once she was fed, and then her brother coaxed her to lie down and try to get some sleep.
I put away the food and made sure it was secure on the cart as Wren steeped some tea. Once I was done with the rations, I licked my lips, took a deep breath, and walked over to where Wren was kneeling between the fire and my bedroll. I dropped into a cross-legged position on my mat, facing him and the fire.
“Tea?” Wren asked softly, holding up one of the enameled metal cups he’d filled with the fragrant beverage.
“Yes, thank you,” I murmured with a nod.
He returned the nod and then brought both of the cups to my bedroll. He knelt beside me, angled to face both me and the fire. I shifted to mirror him as I accepted the cup with another murmur of appreciation.
“Nervous?” he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, his guarded eyes fixed on mine.
“A little,” I confessed before hiding behind the cup of tea. Wren had brewed it hot and strong, so I sipped it slowly and inhaled its floral aroma. “You?”
He chuffed, and the corners of his eyes crinkled just a little, amusement coloring his mask.
“No,” he said. Then he shook his head dismissively. “And you don’t need to be. We’ll take things slow.”
I cocked my head to the side. I wasn’t sure if Wren was patronizing me or not. He was hard to read.
“Do we have time to take things slow?” I asked. I had less than a year before I had to be ready to enact the second ritual.
“We have time to do it right,” he said in a gently correcting tone. “You really only need to master one chant.”
I hummed thoughtfully. Wren had always been a detail-oriented child. I could see how he’d focus on doing one thing, and doing it well.
“That’s true,” I conceded, “but I don’t want to only learn that.”
“You won’t,” Wren said dismissively. He took a sip of his tea. “I won’t even teach it to you first. I was just pointing out that this really isn’t a tall order. Or it shouldn’t be. I’m confident that you’ll be ready in under a half-year.”
He made it sound so easy.
“Well, I’m glad someone’s confident,” I sighed.
“You’re not?” he asked, his eyes fixed on mine again. His expression was patient and curious, far more open than he’d seemed all day.
I shifted and took another long sip of tea to give myself time to pick my words.
“It’s still been less than a full day,” I mumbled honestly. I didn’t want to complain, but it was still hard to fully accept what had happened. And Wren’s patient silence coaxed the words from me. “Everything happened so fast.”
Wren nodded, his brow tightening slightly into a sympathetic expression.
“It did,” he agreed. “And it’s a lot of responsibility. But you can handle it. It wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t.”
The quiet confidence with which he spoke surprised me. I stared at him guilelessly for a moment, shocked by his claim. I was pretty sure I would feel similarly, if anyone else had been chosen as the Midnight Sun. Why would they be chosen if they weren’t right for the job? But since it was me, I just couldn’t quite accept that. I doubted my worth as the correct person for the honor and the responsibility. Still, Wren’s certainty was nice.
“I hope you’re right,” I whispered, feeling my cheeks grow warm.
His lips quirked at one corner.
“I usually am,” he replied with a glint in his eye.
I chuffed at that and then took another sip of my tea.
Conversation lapsed as we finished our respective beverages. I watched the fire and listened to it crackle. The sound was oddly soothing. Wren’s company was welcome. The tea was good. And I had an almost pleasant ache in my legs from the walk. I was a good kind of tired. Mostly. I was still nervous and perhaps slightly in denial about being the Midnight Sun, but my shoulders felt loose and I was curious to find out where my lessons with Wren would start. I was glad my Nightbringing instructor was someone I knew, even if Wren and I had fallen out of communication over the past few years.
Wren took my cup when I finished it. He rinsed the pair of them with water from his canteen, and then he tucked them into a leather case. Then he shifted on my bedroll so that he was fully facing me, the right side of his face bright with fire light, the left side cast in shadows.
I turned to face him, still sitting cross-legged. He’d grown up a lot from the boy I’d known when we were both untested children. He’d always been a skinny child, now he was a lanky adult, thought I could see the strength in his arms, and his posture and bearing bespoke it, too. The softness of his face was gone, replaced by stark cheekbones and a prominent jaw. It was fascinating how he looked both the same and different. And how I felt like we were still friends but also that we’d grown apart. I was a Dawncaller and he was a Nightbringer. That didn’t mean we couldn’t fraternize, but it meant our schedules made it less likely to bump into one another.
“There’s more to Nightbringing than the push,” he said in a serious tone of voice. “We’re going to start with control.”
I blinked at the statement and then frowned in confusion. Control of what? Well, it was my first lesson, so I could give Wren the benefit of the doubt and trust that he knew what he was doing. He certainly knew more than I did.
I took a deep breath and then nodded.
“Kneel like this,” he said, gesturing to his own position, “facing me. Perhaps take off your boots first, if you’re not used to kneeling.”
I wasn’t used to kneeling for long periods of time. And my feet were sore from the walk. So, I unlaced my boots and set them aside before I mirrored Wren’s position, facing him.
“Straighten your shoulders,” he said in a tone that was both authoritative and gentle. “Good.”
I adjusted my posture and kept quiet, wondering what came next.
“We’re just going to do some breathing exercises tonight,” Wren said with quiet confidence. “Control requires focus, and focusing on your breathing is a simple way to build control.”
“Control of what?” I asked.
“Of you,” he said patiently. “Self-control. Discipline. Oneness of mind and body.”
I blinked at him several times. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected my first Nightbringing lesson to be like, but breathing lessons and talk of discipline hadn’t been it.
“All right,” I said with reserved acceptance. Part of me wanted to ask questions or argue that I should be learning to push, but I figured I could hold my tongue until after I’d given Wren a shot. He was a Nightbringer. I wasn’t. I had to trust that he knew what he was doing. If he didn’t, things would go poorly for everyone. Wren had just as much obligation and incentive to help me succeed as I did. “So, breathing?”
Wren nodded and sat up a little straighter. Then he started walking me through a set of breathing exercises, counting heartbeats on each inhale, holding the breath, and then counting heartbeats again on the exhale. He maintained eye contact with me for several sets of breaths, then he had me close my eyes.
I was surprised that I didn’t feel silly sitting there counting my breaths. The awkwardness I’d felt when we started had dissipated. Wren’s serious but soft tone soothed my nerves, his words practiced and intentional. With my eyes closed, and the nearby crackling of the fire as background noise, I fell gradually into a state of calm relaxation.
“Good,” he said with audible approval after I felt my shoulders relax to a degree I hadn’t known was possible. My arms felt leaden, but in a pleasant, drowsy sort of way. “Ten more breaths. Count them backwards.”
I did as he instructed, slowly inhaling, holding the breath, and then slowly exhaling for ten more breaths.
He didn’t say anything when I finished. I sat silently with my eyes closed, waiting for further instruction, but none came.
“Now what?” I murmured after several long moments.
“Now we’re done for the night,” he said simply.
My eyes popped open and I furrowed my brow as I looked at him.
“That’s it?” I asked incredulously.
Wren arched an eyebrow at me.
“I told you we were just doing breathing exercises tonight,” he said in a slightly patronizing tone.
“I still thought there would be pushing involved,” I said, trying not to sound petulant.
“There’s more to Nightbringing than the push,” Wren said again.
I pursed my lips and looked down but otherwise tried to keep my disappointment off my face.
“All right,” I said reluctantly. I sighed. I met his gaze again. “I trust you.”
Something flickered in his expression, and then he nodded.
“Good,” he said aloofly. “Trusting your teacher is important.”
I nodded, too, and then I yawned. Two naps was not a substitute for a good night’s sleep.
“You should rest,” Wren said in a assertive tone.
“You’ve gotten less sleep than I have,” I pointed out with a small shake of his head.
“True,” he said in a conceding tone, “but this is when I’m normally awake. I couldn’t sleep now if I wanted to. It will be difficult enough for me to sleep after midnight.”
I pressed my lips together and considered his words. I believed him, but it didn’t seem right for him to stay awake alone. Though, I guess that had been the plan for Noble, before Quin came along. And it was just for one night.
“All right,” I said, nodding again. “But I intend to stay up with you tomorrow.”
Wren smirked.
“We shall see,” he murmured in amusement.
“Hey,” I said, “I stayed up last night for Cade’s—”
I cut myself off as the events of the previous midnight replayed in my head. Some of the relaxation Wren’s breathing exercises had given me fell away, and my stomach twisted with worry. The feelings of being overwhelmed started to return, slipping long arms around me and starting to squeeze.
“You should rest,” Wren said in a softer tone. “Please. Get some rest.”
I inhaled a slow, shaky breath, my chest tight. I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.
Wren rose fluidly to his feet and stepped over to his own bedroll. Then he knelt again, facing me and the fire. He straightened his shoulders and his chest swelled as he inhaled a deep breath through his nose. He looked stiff somehow, like he was uncomfortable. And I felt like I should say something.
“Thank you,” I said in a quiet rush of breath. “I know you didn’t get much of a choice in coming, but I still appreciate that you’re here. I’m glad it’s someone I know, even if just from childhood.”
Wren’s gaze flicked over my face for a moment. His expression stayed neutral.
“I had no choice in coming,” he said in a correcting tone that didn’t seem upset at all. “And you and I hadn’t spoken to one another in years before last night. I hardly think we know each other.”
My mouth fell open, and it took a few moments for me to remember how to close it. I hadn’t expected the rebuke, but maybe I should have. I’d assumed he was still friendly toward me. But he hadn’t volunteered; he’d been assigned. Training me was a job.
“Of course. You’re right,” I said in a stilted tone. “It was foolish of me to assume you’re still the boy I used to know. Maybe it’s foolish of me to be grateful, too. But I am.”
Firelight flickered across Wren’s face, hiding his expression. He didn’t look at me. I watched him swallow, and I wondered what he was thinking. Had I upset him? I’d been agreeing with him. Why would that upset him?
“Sleep well, Seren,” he said quietly. He sounded a little stiff and perfunctory.
Good night, Wren,” I replied at equal volume and with similar awkwardness.
I sighed again and arranged myself in a somewhat comfortable position facing the fire. Camping had never been my favorite activity. And the reason for my camping kept tugging at my thoughts. I counted my breaths again, like I’d just done with Wren, to distract myself until my exhaustion caught me and dragged me down into unconsciousness.
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