Bane

February 26, 1980

"Maybe it should have been our initial I carved into that valentine, but my thoughts were clouded, distracted with the idea of Jonathan, more than Jonathan himself."

"I know when it looks like when someone is in-love. I saw it in my reflection every day, and I saw it in your face as often, but it wasn't me."

"Then I was a fool."

Trent shook his head. "You were fine just how you were. I could have waited. Jonathan wouldn't last, and all I had to do was let nature take its course."

"It's in the past. Now is our time. Our future, is our time."

"I can't touch you; I can't hold you; I can't do anything. When you secret away your sadness in small glimpses, when you think I don't see it, I can't console you."

"Life is a short passage, darling. Just as these ruins we're once whole, time and effort took its toll. The woods don't care that someone lived here once. They encroach, and will one day reclaim the territory that was theirs. The sky doesn't care that someone once loved this place as their home. They'll rain down on it, slowly eroding away it's memory until only the foundation sits. So it was the same with me, so it will be the same with you."

Trent stared down at his feet, and nodded. He kicked away the leaf and pine needles littered on the floor of the ruins, clearing the heart Nadjia carved not so long ago. "I could stay here. Mother doesn't want me at school. Father doesn't want me at all."

"...but did you see the fear in him? He knows now who the master of the house is. You've become strong when he wasn't looking. They underestimated you. Everyone underestimated you."

Trent fell to his knees, and then back on to his backside. He lay down around Nadjia's valentine heart, and wept as Nadjia sat down beside him, tracing the outline of her carving with ethereal fingers.

"Rest up, baby. You'll need your strength."

♚ ♚ ♚

Trent woke to darkness, curled up on a pile of leaves and pine needles in the corner of the ruins. A barn owl stared down at him from the top of the ruins, its black eyes fixed on him. Trent stretched, and yawned as his eyes focused. Nadjia sat against the wall opposite from him looking miserable. She was staring into the darkness, rather than at Trent.

He rolled over slowly to his feet, crouching low.

Trent heard heavy footsteps on the floorboards and reached slowly into his pocket. He drew out his butcher's knife - the same that took Nadjia's life - and waited. Out of the darkness a tall silhouette appeared, wide at the shoulders, and confident in its stride. Trent held the grip of his knife, his palm resting comfortably against the butt of the grip and lunged at the silhouette, swinging his knife in a wild arc, and missed.

The silhouette dodged as though it expected the attack.

"Who are you?" Trent searched the darkness, his eyes unwilling to adjust. "Who is it?"

"I am the shadow, the breeze, and the rain."

"...I know your voice." Trent scrambled backward. Nadjia sat against her place on the wall of the MacAllen ruins, staring at Trent - no, staring past him - he was too late. "Wait! Wait! Please - please - hold on! I can explain!"

The silhouette of appeared too fast, rushing at Trent before he could react. He felt Jonathan's boot land squarely in the chest. Trent felt his feet leave the floorboards, and he landed flat on his back, sliding along the boards until slamming into the too well preserved wall of the ruins. "I am the cold of winter..."