The door slips too harshly from Finlay's grip, the sound of it thunking closed vibrating through the carpet at his feet, but he's too stiff to wince. He presses his forehead into it, hissing in a breath between clenched teeth.

Fear squirms in his chest and itches at his palms. He screws his eyes shut. It's a good thing Ligari and Edrali crafted this so carefully; if it was as roughly shaped as a Cormé door, he'd have a splinter by now. But he can't seem to separate himself from it. Just beyond the melded planks, he catches the edge of Nathan's hastened breathing, though it quickly fades into the howls of the wind.

"You lied to me."

Finlay's nails curl, biting into his skin. This isn't the way it was supposed to go. He is so close. But now Ligari has planted a seed of doubt, and he needs to remove it before it sprouts into that damned flame.

Abruptly, he whips around, shoulders jamming into the door instead. "I told you not to tell him."

Ligari is still on her knees, still toying with a section of silver thread, and she doesn't move even at his prompt. His skin burns. He takes in a deep breath, pushing down the seething fire.

"He has a right to know," she says without looking up. "You are fully aware of that." Her finger flicks, splitting the thread in two. "But his rights don't exactly play into your agenda."

He sighs. "There is no right and wrong where he's concerned." The growl in his voice doesn't come as easily as usual. He rakes a hand through his hair, tearing at the roots, hoping the pricks of pain will snap some sense into him.

Ligari's gaze is hard, slicing at him like a blade. He jerks away, his lips parting on instinct. "D'anei étoi svis."

"As ryvei ka jés sol," Ligari finishes, carrying the accented lilt better than he does. "I see your father has taught you well."

Nodding silently, he pushes off from the door, grazing a hand over the shelves beside it. Opposite, the drawing of Aorila glares across at him. He ducks his head, gritting his teeth against the ache in his chest.

"When will they be ready?" he asks after a moment, gesturing to the leather she works on.

"Two hours, maybe three. By nightfall, certainly, if I stay focused."

"I'll make sure to keep you from distraction." He spins. The room feels as if it is closing in on him, sunny walls beating down with false cheer. A headache pulses at his temples.

Yet, despite his desperation to breathe in fresher air, he pauses at the handle. The fear has returned, twisting its sickening tangle, scraping at the inside of his lungs. He blinks hard, kicks his heel into the floor, but it remains. It always does.

Nine years of waiting, and he's still scared.

"You don't have to do this, Fiesi."

Hurriedly, he pulls himself straight, though he doesn't look back at her. "Don't start that again. You can't change my mind."

Her feet scuff on the carpet as she rises. The beam of her gaze cuts into the base of his neck, piercing his spine. "Maybe not," she says, almost as if pondering to herself. "Maybe I don't have to."

Again, he turns, resting a hand on the door as he meets her stare's slice. "You think I'm having second thoughts?" Now the growl comes, grating at his throat. He laughs, and the roughness leaks into it, leeching any humour from the sound. "I've waited for this far too long to back out now. And why would I? Nothing has changed."

She cocks her head sideways. He glares in reply, shifting as his skin prickles under her examination. As she slides around the desk, flowing steps rippling the bottom of her tunic like emerald waves, the look only grows in power.

To peer inside another's head is forbidden magic, crossing over the border into Adeía. Impossible for someone like Ligari. Yet her gaze seems to cut through his thoughts regardless, rummaging for tools to fuel her own cause and carefully crumble his.

He flinches, eyes finding the drawing again then quickly tearing away. It is too raw, too familiar. How can she stand to look at it all day long?

"His eyes lit when you entered the room, you know."

"Is that so?" Finlay mutters, though his eyes turn downwards. She's wearing sandals. Maybe she shares Nathan's apparent immunity to cold. He gives his head a firm shake, tugging a smile to his lips. "His eyes can't light, anyway. They're dark."

Leaning into her desk, she snorts. "Just like your father. Smart comments and all."

"I am vastly intelligent." He shoots her a wry glance, then quickly gives up and redirects his gaze to the floor.

"Clearly it's not enough to see what's right in front of you."

"What, an irritatingly persistent woman who can't pick her battles?" He kicks at the fibre of the carpet. His smirk is formed of spite, and he's more than happy to keep it there.

In a few steps, she crosses the room, snatching his gaze before he can evade it. "Face it, Fiesi. You're beginning to care for him."

A searing wave washes over him, and he's jolting into the shelves, barely noticing the sharp throb in his shoulder at the impact. The flames rise to replace it. They race down his arms in tight coils, stealing the spark from the air, shimmering like deep swathes of twilight sky. His lip curls back to make way for a snarl.

"Don't," he warns her, the crackle of fire weaving in amongst his tone.

"Are you threatening me?" Ligari laughs. "Cute."

The air dips and flows, and he knows she's formed a barrier between them. His flames glance off it. If he tried, he could most likely push through it and reach her, but he has no desire to and she knows that. If she believed he would truly hurt her, she has more effective means of protecting herself. It isn't wise to take on anyone from the Yona family, not even for a Tía.

He starts to tug at his flame, aware of how brightly it glows, but she makes the mistake of continuing. "Not denying it, then?"

His fists clench, but the fire only curves over his fingers. Blue spires he should be hiding. If Nathan were to sense them now, Finlay really might have ruined his opportunity. He sets his jaw. "Of course I care," he hisses out. "That's why I'm here, isn't it? To give him what he deserves?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Carefully, she raises a hand, firming up the blockade. Light and shade blurs behind it, but she is sharp as her sketches. "He's only a clueless boy."

Taking in a breath, he attempts to level the sudden race of his heart. "He won't be forever. D'anei étoi svis, Ligari."

The words are shards of ice, cutting at the bonds that lift his fire, melting into a cold shield to force them under. Within moments, the flames vanish. He leaves a couple more seconds, exhales steadily, then spins on his heels. She might be about to reply, but he doesn't wait. He can't risk it.

This time, he doesn't hesitate as he twists the handle, sweat sliding his palm over the wood. The door gives way.

"See you at nightfall," he says tightly, feeling almost robotic. "Thanks for your help."

Dodging around the door, he clicks it shut, fleeing from its grasp. Ligari's eyes can't chase him beyond it. Barely casting the trees spilling into the valley a glance, he stumbles into the mountainside, pressing his spine into flat rock.

He finds the sky with ease. Clouds crouch low over the horizon, but above, crystal blue rules unchallenged. Beautiful, boundless. The lack of cloud cover gives the air a crisp quality, sinks dry cold deeper into his bones, but he doesn't particularly care if it gives him a view like this. Lingering, he sweeps every inch of it, some lonely part of him begging for Rigel to slide from the sky's folds and come to land on his shoulder again. But that is almost as dangerous as letting loose the flame; Nathan could be just around the corner, easily within both view and earshot.

Besides, Rigel has his tasks, the little things to keep them hidden. He's a watcher, as always. Finlay is the one down on the ground, the doer, the fighter. It's how they operate.

Wiping his palms on his jacket, he sighs, resisting the urge to root through the pack discarded a few paces away and find the feather buried within it. It isn't the same as having Rigel nearby, but some essence of the Synté leaks through in that piece of him, as if it is infused with the magic that binds them together.

There is another's presence laced within the feather's soft touch, too, but he isn't in the mood to think about her right now.

He stares up into the sky a moment longer. He isn't waiting for anything but the will to move. It doesn't come by itself, and so he forces it, giving the wall a parting shove as he swings across the door. A short laugh escapes him as his gaze falls to the ground. Much of the snow has been trampled, but harsher prints are seared into the revealed grass, blades wilting outwards and etched in pale brown.

His smile quickly fades. It only shows how upset Nathan must be. With renewed urgency, he tracks them, setting his features into apologetic concern as he rounds the ledge. For only a few more hours, he is Finlay. Simply long enough to allow Fiesi Kynig to complete his duty.

Nathan isn't hard to find. He perches on an outcrop of rock, boots firmly wedged into jagged nooks just below so that his knees come almost to his chest. Bare wisps of fire circle them, meeting at his clasped hands. A dusting of snow surrounds him. The mountain hides much of where Finlay stands in shadow, but slanting rays glint in the soft flakes and capture the paleness of Nathan's skin with ease. He's somewhat bright, lit like a flare viewed through frosted glass, his flames such a stark contrast to everything else that they scream out their lack of nature. Without them, anyone could readily admit how much he resembles winter's bleached light.

Finlay chews at his lip. That odd irony again. He found it humorous before, but now it ties his stomach in knots.

Cautiously, he steps forward, holding onto his breath. Nathan twitches, his fingers interlocking as he stares out the forest below. Trees scraped clean of leaves cling to the slopes, tumbling downwards and spreading out to form a threadbare blanket. Somewhere down there, a village resides, concealed by the mass of branches.

All the time they've been in the mountains, Finlay keeps waiting for a spark of recognition. In the passage, as they reached Mount Vasim, and now as they look over at the place so many lost their lives in the hunt -- or for Cormé, simply the unlucky act of living in this particular place. Perhaps Nathan is remembering now, but Finlay doubts it, and he's glad of it. Memories are painful. He knows all too well.

He swallows hard. The killer has the blissful opportunity to forget, whilst the victims remain haunted. It's an injustice.

Another step forward, snow crushed under his boots. The black blaze twists higher. He abandons the idea of approaching any further, slowed by the claws raking at his chest, and finds a smoothed ridge in the rock to lean against.

"Hey," he tries, to no avail. He licks his lips, gripping the flat stone behind him. "Nathan, I'm sorry."

Nothing. Nathan bunches the material of his trousers, fire flickering over them like a second layer, dark water washing over a dark seabed.

"Look, I wanted to tell you." Finlay's chest grows tight. "But it's dangerous to start blaming--"

"You're lying again," Nathan says, voice low. He doesn't turn.

Rock digs into Finlay's palms as he sighs. "Okay, look. I didn't tell you because I was scared, alright? I didn't know how you'd react." The silence presses his headache deeper. "Yes, I'm a stupid coward. Please, just talk to me."

A pause. Then, finally, Nathan shifts around, though the fire doesn't retreat. "It isn't that you didn't tell me. It's you not wanting me to know. You're keeping secrets on purpose." His eyes fix onto Finlay, and it takes everything in him not to draw back. "You said you wanted us to trust each other. Doesn't that mean not having secrets?"

He sounds almost nervous, as if he's losing faith in the notion before he even reaches the end, but he holds strong. Flames curl over his wrist. He's waiting for Finlay's approval, for a nod of the head, any agreement.

It would be easy to argue, to shut it down, but Finlay's tongue runs loose. "It does. I really am sorry."

Nathan looks down. At this distance, the coldness of his fire seeps easily through the air, tapping out tremors beneath Finlay's skin. It holds such an intense presence. He tugs at his cloak, wrapping it around his waist.

"Do you..." Nathan picks at his tunic. "Do you know anything else about my parents? Who they were?"

"Less than Ligari. She actually knew them." And could have prevented what occurred, but he keeps that to himself. A conflict with her he isn't brave enough to bring up. Yet his lips quirk at a sudden thought. "I bet she didn't mention that your mother was her sister, though."

Nathan's head snaps up. "She was?" His gaze drifts around the corner, towards Ligari's concealed home.

"Yes. But it's a rather touchy subject. She'll kill me if she knows I told you. In the metaphorical sense," he adds with a chuckle.

Faintly, Nathan returns the smile. "I know."

"See?" He spreads his arms out over the rock. "No secrets."

"So I can ask you whatever I want?"

Finlay's breath catches. Instantly, the glimmer in Nathan's eyes fades, and he jerks back, gaze tipped downwards again. Still, he pushes on through the hesitancy. "That... that is what no secrets means, right?"

Toying with the edge of his cloak, Finlay forces himself to meet Nathan's eyes. He still can't quite get used to them, but he recognises the way they flit about, uncertain. He tugs out a reassuring smile. "Of course. We're due a proper conversation." With a small hop upwards, he finds a seat in the rock. He can handle questions. Nathan's curiosity won't dig beneath the surface. He's perceptive, but he's still a clueless boy, just as Ligari says.

Finlay tilts his head, another impulsive thought striking him before he can counter it. "But I get to ask you too, okay? An exchange of secrets."

Nathan scratches at his neck, boots scuffing on stone, but he nods. "Seems fair."

"Feel free to ask first."

"Okay." He dangles his feet further down in the rock, watching them, then glances over. "Why did you rescue me from Neyaibet?"

Snow cascades to the earth as Finlay's hand slips. He hurriedly grabs at the ledge, righting himself before he can slip off. Offering a nervous chuckle, he takes his time readjusting, avoiding Nathan's eyes. It's an innocent question. No suspicion laces it. Yet Finlay can't help but feel the probe it has the potential to be spearing through his ribcage, dipped in venom of his own creation.

The twist of his heart as Nathan examines him, fearful yet barely hoping, shakes away the spear. He presses his nails against the stone, increasing his grip as sweat slicks his palm. "I believe in second chances," he decides on, tasting the brittle edge to the lie.

Nathan shakes his head. "You betrayed your whole kingdom for me. It has to be more than that. There must be a reason."

The fragility of his tone cracks Finlay's resolve. Without thinking, he stands, stepping carefully until he's close enough to lay a hand on Nathan's shoulder. Snow dapples it, patterning the black tunic. His stomach knots tighter. "Neyaibet never really was my kingdom," he says. "Nowhere can be. I'm sort of a traveller, moving about, doing my best to help where I can. Joining Neyaibet's army was just a means to an end."

"To what end? Me?" Wrapping his hand over his leg, Nathan extinguishes his fire as he looks over his shoulder. Relief settles in Finlay's chest at its absence.

"That sounds suspiciously like an extra question, but I'll allow it." Bending down, he rests on one knee, bringing his gaze level with Nathan's. "Yes. I've been searching for you for a long time, actually, but I was never able to get to you. I always knew Oscensi had you somewhere, but I never got close until the capital fell."

"And all that time, you had this planned?" He ducks his head. "Sorry. That's another question."

"I said no secrets, and I'm sticking to that. Ligari came later, but yes, suppressing your flame has always been the plan."

"Why?"

The single, quiet word jolts through him. He inhales sharply, setting his soft smile. "Like I say, I believe in second chances. It isn't fair that you never got a chance to prove the goodness of your heart. Because it's there, Nathan, and anyone who can't see it is a fool." Fire stirs in his chest, hissing silently in his ears. "Besides, I've always fancied myself as the hero."

Nathan pulls at the hem of his tunic, wrapping it around his finger. He shivers. "Does that make me the villain?"

"No." Finlay keeps his gaze firm, not letting him pull away. "It makes you the victim. That fire is the villain. Save you from it, lock it up, and I save the world." Despite himself, he grins. "See? Hero."

Nathan looks up. "You make a good hero."

Maybe Ligari is right. His eyes do light, certainly when he smiles. Perhaps there are miniature suns hidden behind them, eclipsed by the pupil, sneaking out only in the dimmest reflections that glint like silver jewels. The fire can't touch that light. It shines, pure, and Finlay wishes more than anything that darkness will swallow it.

He runs a finger through a patch of snow, enduring its chilled touch. D'anei étoi svis. Evil never fades.

"Your turn to ask now," Nathan says, glee lingering in his expression. Nodding absently, Finlay catches a glimpse of the black flickers weaving over Nathan's hand. He pays them no attention.

As ryvei ka jés sol. It only hides and waits.

- ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ -

"Let's see." Finlay stands, spinning away as he paces, hand tapping at his side. "How did you get to Oscensi?"

Turning to face him, I laugh. "A waste of a question, I'm afraid. I don't know." My throat tightens, and the sound fades. There is so much I don't know.

Perhaps Ligari will. I should ask her later, when this is done.

"Ah well," Finlay says, returning his gaze to me. "Should have expected that. Your turn again."

I unravel the material twisted at the bottom of my tunic, picking at it as I think. My mind drifts back to the previous night, to our short, whispered conversation. I hesitate over the right words, how direct to be, before blurting it out regardless. "Did something happen to your mother?"

His sharp breath cuts through the air. Almost instantly, he goes rigid, watching the sky above the rise of the next hill. I wince. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

He offers a strained smile. "It's alright. Yes, she died."

Pain is kept restrained behind his hardened eyes, but I feel it like a fog, thickening the air. The chill prickles over my skin. "I'm sorry." I'm not sure what else to say.

He waves a hand dismissively, though he keeps watching the sky rather than me. "It was a long time ago. I'm good."

I bite at my lip. I could ask how she died, whether they were close, but what does it matter? Some secrets are private, best left untouched. Letting the silence stretch, I shift back on the ledge, running my hand through a cascade of snow-covered grass.

Seating himself on another spur of rock, Finlay angles himself towards me, brows drawn in thought. "What happened to your girl?"

The grass shrivels instantly. Snatching my hand back, I rub my thumb over it. "She left to fight. Last winter, so... so a year ago now." It feels like an age now I say it out loud. So much time for Neyaibet to find her, for her to join the bodies that littered Polevis's castle.

"What was she like?" Leaning forward, Finlay peers at me with genuine interest.

My finger snakes up to meet the thread on my sleeve. "Kind," I say, speaking downwards. "So kind and generous. And just..." I sigh. "Bright, in so many ways. She always had something to say when she came down, something else she'd learned or seen, even things to show me, sometimes. It felt like she knew about everything in the world, but that's probably silly." I find myself smiling. "The guards always looked at me in the same way -- fear, hatred, disdain -- but she... she never got close to that. Not even..." My voice succumbs to the lump in my throat.

When I glance up, Finlay has his arms folded over his chest. The beginnings of a smirk tug at his lips. I start to turn away, feeling my cheeks flush warm, but then he speaks. "Sounds like you cared for her a lot."

"I did." Despite the ache in my chest, my smile doesn't waver. "I do."

"When this is all over..." He pauses, shaking his head, but continues regardless. "When you've got your gloves, you should go looking for her."

A laugh escapes me, tripping freely into the air. "I should." I quickly bite it back. "Wait, just me?"

"Yeah," he sighs, boots bouncing off the rock as he swings them. "I'm afraid we'll have to part ways when you're sorted. My quest was to help you control your flame, to give you a chance, but after that there's nothing more I can do. I've got to keep travelling. More people to help, more of the world to save, right? A hero's work is never done."

His tone slips deeper into joking, but I catch the meaning behind the words. Tilting my head, I survey him. I don't know what heroes are supposed to look like, but I can picture him with ease -- ruffled hair, cloak flying behind him, a sword in his hands. Blue eyes steely and determined, the way they look so often. He's the kind of person who could face a tide of darkness and bring it to justice. Meanwhile, I'm just another problem to solve, an evil to shut away.

Setting my jaw, I turn to the sky, tracing the smoky drifts of cloud. He doesn't mean it like that. I understand his need to carry on. I'll only hold him back. But the sense it makes doesn't reduce how much it hurts to lose him so soon.

"I'll miss you," I murmur out into the valley . "I know we haven't known each other long, but, well..."

"We're friends," he finishes, unreadable emotion eating at his voice.

"Yes," I say. "Yes, I think so." Warmth sparks in my heart. Below, the branches of trees glitter faintly, catching specs of sunbeams. Shadows flood the space beneath. "Do you think we'll ever meet each other again?"

Silence falls a beat too long. "I hope so."

"Me too."

───── ⋆⋅♛⋅⋆ ─────

Fun Fact: It took me a while to settle on what exactly Finlay's little repeated phrase would be. I knew the general message I wanted, but couldn't phrase it right. I started off using greek to play around with the fancy words, but the actual phrase is mostly just made up from me deciding those letters looked cool together. Gotta love the creative process xD

So, Finlay PoV :DD I've been looking forward to this chapter pretty much since the beginning. It is so fun seeing inside his head, and rooting out a little of the truth of who he is and why he's here. Do you think he really cares about Nathan? And what is he planning?

Oh yes, and he has fancy blue fire. You see how he triggered the entire magic system now--

Anyway, I'll just :D one more time and get excited about the next chapter. It's gonna be a ride :D

- Pup