Several days passed, and I realized that I could no longer hide from my feelings. The pain had not gone anywhere, but something had to be done with it — to fight it, even if there was almost no strength left. I still could not fall asleep, which meant I had to remain in this world and live in such a way that no one would suffer because of me. I needed to become stronger.
I dressed as our plan required, in the white garments of a Guardian, and went down to the river. It was here that my soul was especially vulnerable. This place pulled at me, reminding me of everything at once, but I knew: I would have to learn to live with it.
The small ball with three colors, given to me by the children, I tied at my waist, hiding it beneath the snow-white fabric.
Spindles of wind tangled my hair — this time I had arranged it myself, from memory. These were not Blake's winds. The autumn, piercing natural wind touched the skin differently: colder, more direct, without a single drop of comfort.
The river was far more active than in summer. Its current tore forward, and the noise filled my mind, forcing everything else out. It did not allow me to hide from my thoughts — on the contrary, it pushed me toward them.
"I must become stronger. I must become the one they believe me to be. Otherwise their deaths were in vain."
I repeated this every day and would continue to repeat it, because their deaths would forever remain on me — on my inaction, on my helplessness.
The river. The wind.
I tried to feel everything with my entire being, to let these sounds and movements pass through me. Nimor had said that sometimes meditation and attempts to listen to nature and to oneself could awaken something. Not immediately. Not clearly. But deeply.
An intentionally artificial cough sounded behind me.
I opened my eyes and slowly turned around. On the dry grass, in full gear, stood Eiron.
"Hello," he said uncertainly, not taking a single step closer. Eiron was clearly keeping his distance, as if afraid to cross an invisible line.
"Hello," I replied dryly.
"I came to say goodbye."
He smiled faintly, but the smile lasted only a moment.
"I am very sorry that I was not able to come to your aid at the right time."
It was hard for him to speak — it showed in every movement, in the tense line of his shoulders, in the way he held his breath for a second before each word.
"So I decided to leave for the garrison. For a long service," he continued. "To atone for my failure."
"There is no fault of yours in this…" I began, but he immediately interrupted.
"There is."
The word sounded sharp, almost painful.
"I should have checked earlier. I should have felt it. That is my task — as a commander, as a protector. But I failed."
He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if a struggle was taking place inside him, one he did not allow to break free.
Anger?
Hatred?
"It was I who thoughtlessly followed the dark shadow instead of reporting it," I said. "I blindly ran after it."
I stood straight and did not look away from him for a single moment.
"In this tragedy, only I am to blame. And the Avoddons."
For the first time, I said it out loud — and I did not collapse. I stood before him, upright, having accepted this fact. Even if the pain was tearing me apart from within at that moment, I did not allow it to show.
I must be strong.
"I am taking a watch on the western wall. I do not think I will return anytime soon… or that we will manage to see each other again," he continued, with a sad note in his voice.
"Where the Tower of the Guardians stands and the sunset is insanely beautiful," I smiled faintly and glanced in its direction. From here, only the peak was visible. How truly large it was, I did not yet know.
"Yes," he replied kindly. "You remember."
Eiron gave a quiet chuckle.
"Take care of yourself, Bian."
I turned and met his sorrowful smile. He was saying goodbye to me. Could something really be happening there that was so serious, if he spoke as though he did not expect to return?
I studied him — his armor, the three swords behind his back, his perpetually tousled hair, and the kind features of his face, now filled with sadness.
"I will become stronger. And I hope that we will still be able to see each other," I said, and gently smiled back at him.
He was the first person I had met here. There had always been an air of protection about him. But like me, he seemed to blame himself for the tragedy that had occurred.
And I could understand him.
It seemed to me that he wanted to take a step toward me, but he never dared. Eiron turned around and walked toward the main barracks, without looking back. Even such a great warrior as he was experiencing this tragedy — deeply, truly — even if he hid it behind trained composure. He was trying to appear strong.
Blake was different. Completely cold. Calm.
He hid his feelings so well… or did he truly not care at all?
I returned to these thoughts again and again. Did he grieve even a little? Did anything touch him at all? He had spoken with those children. He knew them. Did he truly feel nothing when it happened?
Or did the status of Supreme Mage simply not allow him to show emotions, even when the heart should ache?
A noise in the living room at night pulled me out of my drowsiness. I woke abruptly, as if sleep had not even tried to hold me. Sound rest had long become a rarity for me — something fragile, almost forgotten.
Throwing a white shawl over my shoulders, I went into the living room.
Two tall Guardians stood by the table, and Blake was beside them. He was giving instructions to one of the trainees, sorting through the papers laid out before him. Upon seeing me, he immediately dismissed the man.
The Guardians, meanwhile, whispering to each other and barely restraining giggles, were looking in my direction. They were clearly pleased about something.
Only — about what exactly?
I stood and stared straight at Blake, waiting for at least some explanation. But he remained cold. Silently set the papers aside, as if what was happening did not concern him in the slightest.
"This is my personal Guardian. She has expended a great deal of strength," he said sternly. "So you will treat her."
The girls' eyes lit up even brighter. It seemed that this was exactly what they had been waiting for. I saw how their gazes slid over me — contemptuous, appraising — and then instantly changed, filling with admiration the moment they looked back at Blake.
"May I help with something?" I asked uncertainly.
The answer was sharp.
"No. There is nothing you can do here. Your help is not needed."
He nodded toward his room, and the Guardians immediately disappeared behind the door.
"Go back to your quarters…"
I did not listen to the rest. I turned around and ran into the corridor, then down the stairs. My heart was pounding wildly — from anger, from pain, from the crushing feeling inside. He was rude. Cold. And it was unbearably painful. His words and tone once again reminded me of how helpless I was.
I burst into the kitchen and, trying somehow to pull myself together, brewed tea. But I could not calm down. The word "helpless" rang in my ears like a black spell, like a curse from which there was no escape.
"Do not let anger and hatred toward yourself seize your heart," Roger's quiet, low voice sounded beside me.
He was standing very close. And I, leaning on the table, was doing my utmost not to break into hysterics.
I lowered my head.
"Am I really useless? Will he now put it on display, constantly reminding me of it?" I swallowed, but it did not help. One tear still rolled down my cheek, without falling to the floor.
I raised my gaze to Roger standing beside me.
"Do you also think that I am useless?"
My heart was tightening with pain — uncontrolled, angry.
Roger removed his glove and gently wiped away my tear with the tip of his finger.
"No. Do not think that. Blake, he—"
He did not have time to finish.
"Am I interrupting you?" Blake's steel voice cut through the silence.