Yin and Yang: A Fool's Beginning

  Chapter 28

  Yin

  I return to my room. I don’t care that I’m crying – why should I? Though it seems to amuse and bolster every soldier I meet, I don’t try to hide it.

  I was taught never to hide my emotions. Get in the way of feeling, and you get in the way of magic. I might have hated my tenderness before, but now I realize I can’t deny it.

  I’m not like Captain Yang – I will not purge myself of emotion, no matter how inconvenient and uncomfortable those emotions can be.

  Plus, these soldiers can enjoy my tears all they can now, but I won’t be crying forever. Nor will I be trapped forever.

  I will endure, and then I will fight.

  For now, however, I can’t stop the torrent of tears.

  When I reach my room, I crumple against the wall.

  I hook my arms around my knees, and I hug them close to myself.

  I don’t sob; I let the tears flow freely.

  I want to tell myself that Castor wasn’t telling the truth – that his act of indifference was just that. An act.

  But… I just can’t shake the feeling it’s more than that. That, just maybe, he’s right: I’m no longer his apprentice, and I’ll never see my home again. For now until they grow bored of me, I’ll be the property of the army.

  I start to break down again, the tears coming fast as I breathe hard.

  Though I’ve been taught never to hide from my emotions, I want nothing more than to push them back now. They are just so powerful. I feel so small and insignificant in comparison. All those years of training, of strengthening myself, seem completely insignificant as I rock back and forth like a child.

  Castor always promised me that he would be there, right up until the end. No matter what happened to him, no matter what he had to endure, he would help me until the final day of the age. After all, he’s my guardian, and that’s what a guardian is meant to do.

  Now as I sit there with my back pressed up against that cold, hard stone, I can’t help but think it’s over.

  Though I want to believe that he hasn’t abandoned me, I can’t force myself to accept he will continue to be there for me either.

  Something complex is happening, and I have no idea what it is.

  So… what do I do?

  I’ve had it drummed into my head that as the Savior I have to be so very careful. There are forces, that if they know who I am, will come after me.

  Far more vicious than an illusionist, these creatures are the foot soldiers of the Night. They would make the General seem tame in comparison.

  Shivering as I think about them, I run my hands up and down my arms, my fingers bent, sweat collecting between them.

  How can I be careful if Castor isn’t by my side? He knows so much more than me. My training is incomplete, and I need someone like him.

  I can’t do this on my own.

  Feeling colder than I ever have, as if the spirit within my Arak device has burnt out completely, I let my back slip off the wall, and I crumple to the floor. Though it may be unfathomably pathetic, I just lock my arms around my chest and bury my head into the crooks of my elbows.

  I sob, I weep, I cry. I let it all out in one unending rush of sorrow and fear.

  Yet, through it all, despite how low I am, I don’t give up.

  There is that grain, the spark that never goes out, that is buried deep in my soul. No matter the hardships I endure, it remains. No matter the successes, no matter the failures, it remains.

  It’s always been there, and if I’m willing to believe in it, it will always be there.

  Something to hold onto even in the darkest of nights.

  Right now, though it’s hard, I hold onto it again. Slowly, I let the last of my tears trickle down my blotchy cheeks. I shift my head back and rest it on the cool stone floor. Then I turn, rolling onto my back as I stare up at the ceiling.

  Reaching my hands out, I unfurl my fingers and stare at my palms.

  Even when you are weakest, you are powerful just so long as you remember what it feels like.

  To reinforce that fact, I fight against the magical enchantments enshrouding this room, and I force several sparks of magic to collect over my fingers. They dance and crackle, their light playing against my dirty hands.

  With wide eyes, I watch them. I watch them as they grow, oh so slowly, but grow they do.

  .…

  I can do this.

  Even if I don’t have Castor, and there’s nobody to help guide me, I have to try.

  That is my destiny. No, it’s more than that: it’s my choice.

  I will face the Night. If I am willing to do that, then surely I can do this?

  I can find the strength to move on. Without Castor, I will train myself. Whatever it takes. Even if it means staying here willingly, and learning whatever I can from Mae and Garl and all those other arrogant fools. Even Yang. If he can teach me anything, I will learn it.

  I will gather those lessons like a rolling stone gathering speed as it tumbles down a hill. The more I learn, the stronger I will get.

  I won’t let a soul stop me.

  Finally, I push up. I don’t dry my tears; I let the magic within do that. As I force heat to rise through my cheeks, the moist feeling disappears. Then, with a breath, I extend my arms and take up a defensive position.

  “Nothing is going to hold me back,” I tell the empty room. Though my voice is not particularly loud, it echoes around that tiny space. As it does, I let myself believe my own words.

  Nothing is going to hold me back.