The Heretics

27: Final Control

With my heart getting caught in my throat, I tried to concentrate on my breathing like before and keep my demeanour still and unshaken, despite his directness catching me off guard.

Looking at his rugged face and the milky eyes, I couldn't read anything in them. He didn't give away a single thing, and I wondered if he would notice me looking at his emotional signature. Maybe I would start small in showing him my gift.

Changing spheres, I closed my eyes briefly and when I reopened them, the white aura of power that hovered around him was the first thing I saw. It vibrated around him like a blanket of heat, emanating so much power that it took a lot of concentration to see beyond it. Digging through to him, I quickly realised that there was nothing behind the fog of the glowing white that surrounded him. It was like trying to move mist form my view with my bare hands, every attempt slipping through my fingers. Strength leaked out of me as I tried harder to delve into it, to see further, but there was nothing but a thick fog that invaded my mind.

As a dark, sticky liquid dropped down onto my chest, the sudden contact brought me back out of his emotional signature and his face sharpened into focus. Wiping away the blood below my nose with the back of my hand, I bit down on my teeth.

"I don't see your emotions," I stated, frustrated, and confused that he was somehow capable of masking his emotions from me. How did he even know that I controlled emotions and didn't just influence them?

"That's because you are not in control."

I threw up my arms. "Then help me be in control." I tried to keep the frustration from my words.

"You are still weak. You don't want it bad enough," he accused, and I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Feiran answered but he might as well have had said nothing at all. "What do you work with?"

"What do you mean?" I repeated, irritated at his questions that made no sense to me.

Feiran grunted annoyedly, which automatically irritated me further. What was his problem? What was he saying? What did he want me to say?

"As someone who has been dealing with emotions for your entire life, you should know what I speak of."

I nearly cursed at him, but kept my mouth shut, reminding myself of staying strong and not giving in to anything less than control. I erected walls made of concrete.

"I want you to think about what I ask of you. And once you figure it out, you may join me. Until then, prove to me you are not as witless as you act."

Without elaborating further, Feiran turned on his heel and walked across the golden field of grass with a proud posture that made me even madder at him. What was his deal? Why couldn't he just act like a normal person and have a normal conversation with me? What did he mean when he asked, 'what do you work with'? What was I supposed to be working with?

I sank to my knees and ended up sitting onto the damp ground, feeling the mud below the grass as I leaned back with my upper body. The mud moved around my hands, making space, sinking beneath my weight.

Inhaling deeply, I replayed his words in my mind, over and over again, contemplating their meaning. I didn't physically work with anything. And whenever I used my gift, I worked with my gut, with spheres, with strength. My gift was a complex web of possibilities, that I couldn't really put it into one single ability powered by one single thing.

What did I work with... Emotions? Was emotions the correct answer?

Exhaling, I closed my eyes and let my body fall softly into the grass. The dirt did not bother me, nor the light sinking feeling of the mud as my weight evened out.

Feiran knew that my gifts were of controlling nature, and not just an influence. I wasn't sure how he knew that, but for now, it didn't matter. With what did I control emotions?

Huffing loudly, I continued to ponder in a silence that stretched out throughout the fields, since no one else was around. There were barely any natural animal sounds, either, which was what made the calm slightly eerie. My thoughts drifted off into matters that would need to be discussed in the coming days, like how everyone's general progress was and if there was any news on the Heretics, since they had learned of our location and therefor knew where the dragons were hiding. It was only a question of when, not if, they would come for us all.

An image of me standing beside my pack, amongst an army of dragons, made my skin crawl. Would I fight in my wolf skin? Or with swords, knives, bows or other manmade weapons? Could I even rely on my raw strength?

A more chilling thought ran through my mind when I thought of the outcome. Were we strong enough? How strong was the enemy? Regardless, there would be casualties. And something in my gut told me that it would take the weak first, and considering dragons were beings made almost purely of magic...

I gulped down a lump that formed in my throat, trying hard not to derail myself. No, I wouldn't let it get that far. I would do anything I could to keep my own people from giving their lives. We'd come out here in search for a new one, not to lose it the next chance we got. Though I still stood behind by my choice to fight with my promised and his kind, I wouldn't allow anyone to take my pack away from me. No matter the cost.

When I turned from facing the forest that lined the horizon, where Feiran had disappeared in, to having a view of the palace behind me, I watched a few guards pace up and down some cobble-stone walkways. Most of this side was fortified walls since this was the backyard and therefor probably not worth the view the entrance was. The walkways framed the entire palace and were lined with stone fences. Some of the walkways lead up the wall alongside it into one of the towers.

I wondered how their clothing worked, since all the guards had similar scales whereas the civilians didn't. Was one born that way, including the rank? Did the scales vary depending on the bloodline and the associated hierarchy of that bloodline?

It didn't matter. The point of me laying here, was to find out more about my spiritual abilities that were tied together with my gift, not anything that piqued my interest outside of that. It made me wonder where the origin of those gifts truly came from, however. I still couldn't believe that my father was supposed to be one of their kind.

Maybe I would never truly believe it. There was no proof, after all, and there never would be. Father was gone and I would never see my mother again. Even if I did––she wouldn't even share his name with me, let alone his ancestry. Therefore, it was utterly hopeless to learn more about my roots. Did I need to know of my roots, though, to figure out the answer to Feiran's dumb question? What did I work with?

The only thing I could come up with was emotions. Winging it, I decided to stop senselessly sitting around and rose to my feet. Walking towards the horizon, reaching the forest a few kilometres out, it took me quite a while travelling on foot to reach the old man. I wasn't sure how many hours it had been since I'd last seen him, but it felt good moving my muscles again.