The boys arrived at Forest Reach just as the last vestiges of winter gave way to spring, the dregs of snow receding from even the darkest shadows, flowers already beginning to burst into bloom and the sun promising to burn away all but the slightest leftover chill.

It wasn't unusual for boys to be fostered at Forst Reach, there were plenty of them, but they were mostly several years older than Vanyel or closer to Mekeal's age.

The new boys were twins, though not identical like his mother's lady's maid's daughters. One was fairer, with longer wavier blond hair while his brother was taller and his hair was darker and cropped close to his head, likely due to how violently it curled even when cut so short.

From the safety of his hiding spot at the top of the stairs, Vanyel peered down at them.

He wasn't sure where they had come from specifically, but he'd overheard the armsmen muttering about how odd it was that the Frelennye patriarch had sent his heir and twin brother rather than someoje who wouldn't inherit. There had been more said, but he hadn't understood it all and then they had wandered closer and Vanyel had crept away, worried about being spotted out of bed when he was supposed to be asleep candlemarks before.

The boys didn't speak to anyone, even each other, though their eyes would frequently meet and they would exchange unreadable looks. One of his older cousins had approached them and tried to include them in the game they were playing, but the taller one had just stared at him flintily while the shorter had just shrunk back wordlessly.

Vanyel would have liked to go down and play too, but lately his cousins had been avoiding him and making fun of him when he followed them anyways. Only Mekeal would still play with him, but he was only a baby and wasn't very fun anyways; he didn't like playing pretend or music or drawing like Vanyel did, and would rather dig in the dirt with the other younger boys.

He missed Liss fiercely, even if she'd been beyond thrilled to be sent away to foster with the Corey girls and be allowed to train without dumb boys teasing her for it every time she donned her training armor. He thought it might make him a selfish, awful brother to wish she was still there suffering along with him.

Suddenly, the tall boy looked up sharply, eyes finding Vanyel even hidden as he was in the shadows at the top of the stairs. The boy didn't frown or make a mean face like one of his cousins or the foster boys might have, but Vanyel still shrank back, startled.

Playing with the other boys wasn't fun anymore anyways, he'd go play by himself. He'd found a cool room in the library the day before, so no one would bug him there.

He bit his lip as he silently slipped away from the stairs.

It would be better by himself.


Forst Reach was terrible, Staven concluded sourly. He and Tylendel had only arrived the night before, but it was already clear that he was going to hate it here.

To begin with, Staven and Tylendel didn't have their own room together like they had at home, they had to share with a seemingly unending number of other boys. The whole keep was filled to bursting with people; children, fosterling, servants, adults and armsmen everywhere, all talking and constantly making noise. Staven was pretty sure he was going to go insane if he didn't get a moment alone without someone talking at him. Night was no relief, with the constant snoring and grumbling and muttering that came with sharing a room with so many people.

Tylendel hadn't said so, but Staven was certain he felt the same. He hadn't spoken a word since their uncle had said he was sending them away. He didn't talk much anymore to begin with.

Staven would just have to find somewhere quiet for the two of them to disappear to. The keep itself was a labyrinth, with twisting corridors and stairs that exited in odd places and hallways that ended unexpectedly. He was sure he'd be able to find some pocket of space that no one ever used.

Another girl, having not taken the hint of how he'd stared down every attempt to engage him, approached, smiling politely at him and started towards him, probably to blather something annoying. Staven thought if he had to endure another inane one-sided conversation he'd either bash his head in against the stone wall, or the head of the person talking to him.

Before she could get too close, Staven grabbed Tylendel by the forearm and dragged him out of the room. It was time to find some measure of peace and quiet in this hellhole.

On a hunch, he pulled Tylendel up the stairs to the landing he'd spotted a dark-haired boy peering down from. Up the stairs, away from the crowd, it was already quieter, the rumble of voices talking and excited children's shrieks reduced to a dull murmur.

Staven let out a sigh of relief. Tylendel didn't say anything, his eyes still firmly trained on the floor, but his shoulders looked less tense.

Still, they'd be spotted if they stuck around this hallway, so Staven picked at direction at random and started in that direction, Tylendel placidly following in his wake.

They were half way down a hallway that inexplicably had no rooms lining the walls when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps coming towards them. They couldn't double back, the corner being too far to make before whoever was approaching entered the hallway.

Staven squared his jaw and just hoped it was a servant, or an adult too busy to bother with two fosterling boys.

His heart sank as two rough looking boys rounded the corner. They'd already had several arguments, despite how recently Staven and Tylendel had arrived.

He squared his shoulders and got ready for yet another argument. He hated Forst Reach.


"Leave them alone!" A voice said sharply from behind them. Staven let go of his grip on Wren's shirt and stepped back, turning to peer down the hallway.

A small, slight child stood at the end of the hall that Wren had come from. His hands were curled into small trembling fists by his side, and his face screwed up in a frightened but determined scowl.

"Or what, you'll go cry to your mother?" Wren said dismissively. He didn't seem to take the child seriously at all, already turning back towards Staven as he spoke.

"No, I'll tell Jessili that you spent the whole night with Cate last week and didn't get back until dawn," the child said loudly.

It was almost entertaining to see the blood rush out of Wren's face, his jaw slackening in shock. Wren whirled back around, snarling, "Don't you dare, you little toad!"
The child's face had also gone white, but he replied firmly, "I will if you don't leave them alone and go away."

Wren glared at the child for a long moment, then roughly jerked back around and stomped down the hall, shoulder purposefully smacking into Staven's as he went. His friend hurried after him without looking back.

"You didn't have to do that," Staven said to the child. He guessed the kid to be only a few years younger than him and Tylendel, maybe eight, though he was rather short.

"If you picked a fight with Wren so soon, none of the other boys'd talk to you. They'd say you didn't know your place or something," the child said, scuffing one toe on the floor.

"Is that why they don't talk to you?" Tylendel asked softly, nearly startling Staven out of his skin.

The child's chin dipped in towards his chest, shoulders hunching. "No. They just don't like me."

"Well, I like you," Tylendel said, stepping forward. Staven wasn't surprised to note how rough his voice had become after not speaking for the entire journey to Forst Reach.

The child looked up and smiled shyly at Tylendel. "I'm Vanyel. I like you too."

"I'm Staven, and this is my brother Tylendel," Staven said when it was clear Tylendel was done talking again, the silence awkwardly stretching out.

"Why aren't you with the others?" Vanyel asked curiously. He hoped these boys would talk to him sometimes, even if they couldn't be friends, but he also knew there had to be a reason they had left the hall where all the other children and young adults congregated after dinner. He didn't want to be too hopeful about these boys. There had to be a reason after all that none of the boys wanted to play with him anymore.

"It was too loud," Staven said with a grimace. "We aren't used to living somewhere with so many people always around."

"I know somewhere quiet," Vanyel offered hesitantly. It might not have been the best idea to show them his new favourite hiding place so soon, but he desperately wanted to impress these boys.

Vanyel led them through a series of increasingly odd staircases and hallways, ending in what looked to be an underused library.

"This is quiet," Staven said, looking around with interest. Several large windows on one wall let in the last of the day's light, illuminating dust motes that danced in the still, stale air.

"This isn't it," Vanyel said, leading them deeper into the library, stopping at a tiny door nearly invisible in the shadow cast by a bookcase. "In here," he said and opened the door, barely having to dip his head to get through.

Tylendel followed first, hunching his shoulders to get through, and then Staven, who had considerably more difficulty and had to get down on all fours.

The room they entered was an odd shape, dusty and filled with broken bits of furniture, likely a long-forgotten storage room.

"What even is this place?" Staven asked, crossing the small space and peering out one of the windows.

Vanyel shrugged and perched on one of the dusty chairs shoved against one wall.

"Father says grandfather changed his mind a lot when the Keep was being renovated, so things got changed while they were being built. I think this was supposed to be part of a stairwell."

"That does explain some things," Staven replied. He glanced over at Tylendel. He didn't seem like he was going to speak again, which Staven supposed was too much to hope for, but he seemed more interested in their conversation than he had with other people. Staven guessed that meant he should spend more time with Vanyel in the future. It was the first sign of his brother making any sort of progress.

At first when Tylendel had stopped speaking out loud, Staven had been angry, and had yelled at him, because he was also hurt by his uncle sending them away but he hadn't shut out his twin for no reason like Tylendel had. Then, when yelling and storming off and refusing to even look at Tylendel had done nothing, he'd grown worried. He'd apologized and tried to comfort him as they travelled to Forst Reach with a couple of armsmen, but had likewise gotten no response. The last day before they'd arrived at their destination, he'd given up. So his brother didn't talk anymore. That was fine. Staven could deal with that. Tylendel would still sometimes use their mental link, communicating to Staven through impressions and emotions rather than words. That was good enough for him, even if all the adults were still fussing over Tylendel seemingly going mute.

Vanyel's legs swung a little, toes just barely grazing the floor, sending up little puffs of dust. "I'm good at finding places like this, but this is my favourite."

"How'd you find it?" Staven asked. The library itself didn't look like many people used it, and the door had been deep inside and unnoticeable if you weren't looking for it.

"I like to read," Vanyel mumbled, a bit self-consciously. The other boys made fun of him for it, especially when the tutors praised him for learning so quickly. He'd decided not long ago that it was better to stop raising his hand when the tutor asked them a question. He'd rather be right and not get teased for it than answer and have the boys be angry for not knowing and putting frogs in his bed again.

Staven raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask further. He thought Vanyel was a bit young to prefer books over other things little kids did with their time, but Vanyel seemed rather embarrassed about it, so he said nothing.

"Do you like to read?" Vanyel asked. Staven started to reply, but was startled to notice that the question had been directed at Tylendel.

"I do... Staven doesn't. He's too dumb to understand big words," Tylendel said with a tiny, crooked smile.

"You are the worst little brother," Staven said hotly, before he even had time to be surprised by Tylendel speaking.

"None of my cousins like to read either. Mekeal's too little to read, but he doesn't like to sit still and listen to stories either," Vanyel said to Tylendel, pouting a little.

Staven glanced out the window. The last crescent of the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the light was quickly fading.

"We should probably go back soon," he said, "Or they'll send an adult looking for us."

The three of them left the room, and Stave. Couldn't help but shoot a grateful look at the useful little hideaway


Vanyel darted into the library, hands clutching an armful of papers to his chest. He stumbled to a halt in front of the hidden room, a lone sheet of paper fluttering to the floor.

He hesitated at the door, uncertain now that he'd arrived if he should enter. Tylendel and Staven had disappeared the moment the boys were let free for the rest of the afternoon, and he was pretty sure he knew where they were.

The hidden room had been his hiding place first, but he'd shown it to them, so he couldn't count on no one being in there like he used to. What if they didn't want to share with him? Staven had been looking for somewhere quiet and not full of people, maybe they'd be mad at Vanyel for invading their space.

Another piece of paper slipped out of his tenuous grip and slipped to the floor, already crumpled and covered in ink.

The sight of his ruined sheet music settled it. He needed to find somewhere away from the other boys to keep it all safe. They'd though it would be funny to write (in very poor penmanship) rude words all over the sheets for Windrider Unchained and it had only been because he'd heard them laughing that he'd managed to salvage the rest before they could receive the same treatment.

Maybe if he was lucky the twins would be somewhere else, in any of the many odd corners of the Keep. He squared his shoulders and, carefully balancing the paper in one arm, pushed the door open.

Staven was slumped against one wall, fiddling with something in his hands, while Tylendel was seated on the floor next to the window, peering out at the rain dripping against the glass.

Vanyel froze just in front of the doorway, not daring to step farther in.

Would they tell him to go away?


At the sound of the half-height door opening, Staven looked up from the very badly shaped dog he was attempting to whittle.

Vanyel stood just inside the doorway, arms full of papers, face looking white but determined.

"Hope you don't mind us borrowing your hiding place," Staven said when Vanyel didn't move or even greet them.

At his words Staven could almost see the tension run off Vanyel's shoulders. He shut the door behind himself and set the stack of papers on the floor, beginning to sort through them.

"That's okay," Vanyel said quietly, without looking up.

"What's all that?" Staven asked, abandoning his attempt at whittling. Tylendel had always been better at it than him.

"Sheet music," Vanyel said absently, more focused on smoothing out a piece that had been hopelessly crumpled.

"You know how to play an instrument?" Staven asked curiously, peering over Vanyel's shoulder. The notation was hopelessly confusing to his eye, but the ink smeared all over one section certainly didn't help.

"Mother got me a tutor as a present when I turned seven," Vanyel said, eyes darting over the Staven and then back down to the papers, as if assessing his response.

"Our mother tried to teach us when we were younger," Staven volunteered when Vanyel shot him a second, somewhat nervous look.

"She said we sounded like a rooster being strangled," Tylendel said unexpectedly from the other side of the small room.

"The lessons didn't last long," Staven agreed, feeling a rush of warmth at Tylendel finally speaking again. He hadn't since the day Vanyel had shown them the hidden room the week previous and Staven had begun to think it would be a one-time incident.

Tylendel sent back the mental equivalent of a hand squeezing his shoulder comfortingly, with just a wisp of sadness tinging it.

"Father grumbles about the cost," Vanyel said, settling back on his heels, satisfied with his work. Nothing could be done to remove the ink his cousins had splashed on it, but the worst of the creases had been smoothed out, and he'd sorted them back into their proper order. "So I have to learn as much as I can before he makes Mother get rid of the tutor."

"I'm sure you're learning quickly," Staven said, a bit at a loss. He'd gotten the impression from his mother that being skilled in music was a good trait to have, but given the way he'd heard the other boys talk about Vanyel it didn't seem like the same could be said at Forst Reach. Though they were much closer to Haven, it seemed like everything was much more rough and unrefined than at home, maybe because of the taste of the Lord Holder himself.

"Did you come to practice?" Tylendel asked, actually turning away from the window. Staven doubted Tylendel had intended to, but Staven got a wisp of longing, hoping for music he guessed.

Vanyel shook his head and carefully stacked the papers in one corner of the room. "No I just wanted to put this in here before I had to go to my lesson."

Staven nodded, guessing that if the other boys teased him about music lessons then they also played pranks on him for it too. He'd done the same to Tylendel when he'd tried his hand at sketching, and Tylendel had gotten his revenge when Staven had attempted to impress one of their visiting older cousins. It was simply the way it was with brothers and relatives, though he guessed it was worse with how many Vanyel had. Hiding important things away like music sheets was probably a good idea, and Vanyel would probably get them all back somehow.

Vanyel glanced at Tylendel, who had turned back to stare at the rain on the window again.

"See you later," Staven said to Vanyel who was shooting Tylendel a confused look.

Vanyel nodded and ducked out of the room.

Staven glanced at Tylendel and sighed, going back to trying to whittle.


It was long past the witching hour when Vanyel ran into the library, even the servants having gone to bed. His bare feet made wet slapping sounds against the stone floor, echoing like a church bell in the still night air.

He didn't hesitate entering the hidden room, sob shaking his shoulders silently. It felt too quiet and peaceful there to disturb it even with his hitching breaths.

Illuminated by the moonlight, there was a figure seated by the window.

Vanyel let out a small shriek, stumbling over his own feet and falling backwards to the floor.

The figure turned to him sharply, moonlight catching on the tear tracks on his cheeks that matched Vanyel's own.

"Tylendel?" Vanyel asked, crawling to his feet and coming closer.

Tylendel dipped his head silently and curled his knees into his chest.

"Are you okay?" Vanyel asked, his own tears slowing to a halt with this distraction.

Tylendel considered this for a moment and then shrugged, chin dipping in towards his chest.

Vanyel bit his lip. Tylendel never talked much, so he guessed it wouldn't be weird for him not to say anything but...

"Two of my cousins thought it would be funny to dump water on me after I fell asleep," Vanyel said quietly, picking at the sodden sleeves of his nightclothes that clung to his gooseflesh covered arms.

"I was dreaming and thought I was drowning and screamed so loud I woke up everyone in the room," Vanyel continued when his first words had Tylendel raise his head, "And I ran here because I was embarrassed."

"Why... would they do that?" Tylendel asked slowly, like the words took an effort to form.

Vanyel shrugged, feeling his ears pink. "I don't know they like to pick on me since I'm younger and smaller than them."

He knew why; they hadn't known an answer to a question asked in lessons that morning, and they'd been embarrassed by a boy five years younger than them answering it with ease.

Vanyel sighed. It wasn't his fault he remembered lessons easily, no more than they were at fault for being better at arms practice. Vanyel had started earlier that year, and he already knew he was always going to be completely hopeless at it, not in the least because of how much the armsmaster terrified him with his booming voice and impressive scowl.

"I had a nightmare," Tylendel said, hands clenched against his curled-up knees.

"About what?"

Vanyel sat down across from Tylendel, mirroring his pose. He shivered at the cool touch of the stone floor against his legs. It was a bit chilly in the hidden room, with his wet clothes and the chimney-wall not providing any heat since it was far enough into spring that fires weren't being kept in all rooms through the night.

"My father dying," Tylendel said. He didn't sound sad or scared like Vanyel would expect, just tired. Vanyel felt a little silly for being so upset over a bit of water compared to an awful dream like that. He certainly wasn't close with his own father, but dreaming about him dead sounded terrible nevertheless.

"You're safe here," Vanyel said, trying to sound comforting but sounding rather feeble to his own ears. He desperately wanted to ask if Tylendel's father was actually alive and if it was just a bad dream, but even at nine he knew that wouldn't be a bad question to ask if the answer was no.

Tylendel dipped his head in agreement with Vanyel. "It's why Uncle sent us here," he said, glancing up through his lashes at Vanyel, "He said it would be safer here."

Vanyel bit his lip. Would it also be a bad question to ask what Tylendel and Staven would be safe from? He thought it might be.

"What was your dream like?" He asked instead. "Lissa, my older sister, used to ask me that when I had bad dreams and telling her made me feel better because usually I'd hear how silly it really was- n-not that I think your dream was silly," he hastened to add, though Tylendel hardly looked offended.

"Not much really happened. Father was riding a white horse down the road towards the market, and I knew that someone was hiding in the trees but I couldn't tell him and then he was shot in the chest with a crossbow."

Vanyel shivered. Tylendel's dreams we definitely a lot scarier than his about having to fight his eight-feet-tall cousins with only a butter knife.

"And then what happened?" Vanyel asked.

"I saw who shot him. It was a man, only his face kept changing, except for his teeth, they were enormous and he was smiling right at me even though I was so far away on the road."

"People can't change faces," Vanyel said, trying to sound like he wasn't shaken by Tylendel's nightmare, "So it was definitely a dream."

"Father didn't die from a crossbow either," Tylendel replied, but he sounded less absent than before, so Vanyel thought he might have been helping somehow. "He was poisoned, or at least Uncle thinks so, but we can't prove that he was."

"Poisoned?" Vanyel whispered. It sounded like something out of a story, not something that could happen to someone's father.

"Uncle sent Staven here so he could grow up and learn to become Lord Holder without being in danger and he sent me so that Staven didn't come home the minute the armsmen left him here," Tylendel said, a tiny hint of amusement in his voice when he mentioned Staven.

"I wish I had a twin," Vanyel said wistfully. Liss was his favourite sibling, head and shoulders over Mekeal who had gone from a boring baby who couldn't play much to an annoying, loud baby who didn't like any of Vanyel's games, but Liss wasn't the same as a twin, she was a lot older. If he had a twin maybe he could play hide and go seek, or tag or play pretend down at the creek without worrying about being pushed into the slimy green mud.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Tylendel asked

Vanyel nodded eagerly.

"Me and Staven can talk without using words," Tylendel said, smiling a tiny secretive smile.

Frowning in confusion, Vanyel asked, "Like with your hands like mute people? One of the bakers in the village does that too. It's pretty neat. I asked him to teach me but he laughed at me."

Tylendel shook his head. "No like, we can think things at each other, no matter how far away. Right now he's sleeping, his mind feels fuzzy, but I think he's dreaming about fishing. We used to use it to cheat on tests during lessons until the tutor figured out we were cheating somehow and started giving us tests with different questions."

Vanyel stared at him, bug-eyed. This definitely sounded like something out of a story, the sort of thing a hero could do and would use to save townspeople.

"That's so amazing," he breathed, in awe.

"Don't tell anyone," Tylendel warned, "We haven't told anyone before. Staven might get mad that I told you, but I trust you and I think he does too."

Vanyel nodded vigorously. "I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"Thank you," Tylendel said and patted him on the shoulder, startling when his hand came away damp. He must have forgotten why Vanyel had come to the hidden room in the first place.

"You must be freezing," Tylendel said, shifting closer.

"I'm not that cold," Vanyel lied, his skin covered in goose bumps. He didn't want Tylendel to suggest they go back to their own beds; his would still be wet and he wasn't sure it had been long enough for all of the boys to have gone back to sleep and not be hanging around waiting to laugh at him.

"Don't be silly," Tylendel said and crouched, pulling out a quilt he must have been sitting on the whole time, "Come here. We can both warm up a bit."

Cautiously, Vanyel sat next to Tylendel and allowed the large quilt to be wrapped around the two of them. He was still uncomfortably wet, but he was much warmer sharing body heat and not sitting on the stone floor.

They sat in silence for candlemarks, and Vanyel's eyes very slowly got heavier and heavier and soon enough he let his eyes shut, head drooping to the side.

For his part, Tylendel was half asleep and shifted obligingly when Vanyel's head came to rest on his upper arm.

The two boys gradually slumped to the floor in a heap, quilt tangled around them, sleeping soundly as the sun crept over the horizon.


:Tylendel?:

He groaned, sticking his face into the quilt, away from the weak morning sun. His bed felt oddly uncomfortable that morning, but he wasn't about to get up sooner than necessary.

:Tylendel?: Staven repeated, sounding frantic.

At once Tylendel remembered that his bed felt uncomfortable because it was the floor of the hidden room.

:I'm okay, don't fuss,: he sleepily sent back to Staven, quelling the rising panic he could feel was not his own. He himself felt rather relaxed and comfortable for all that he had been sleeping on the floor.

:Where are you? Why aren't you in your bed?: Staven demanded, anxiety giving way to irritation.

:I had a nightmare, couldn't stay in bed, so I went to the room in the library, but I fell asleep.:

Beside him, Vanyel stirred, but didn't seem to wake, breathing still slow and even. It could only have been a few candlemarks or so since they had fallen asleep, Vanyel's clothing was still damp and Tylendel's back only ached a little from sleeping in such an odd position on the floor.

:You could have woken me up,: Staven grumbled. Tylendel felt Staven get out of bed and silently head for the door, careful not to wake anyone up.

:It was just a nightmare. I just needed to be somewhere else, I didn't think I would fall asleep,: Tylendel replied. In all honesty, even if he had thought he could sleep again, he wouldn't have woken Staven up. Staven didn't have as many nightmares as Tylendel did, but only because he refused to sleep. He'd go to bed so no one would notice, and close his eyes and feign sleep, but Tylendel would feel the faint buzz of thoughts coming from his mind that meant he was awake. Staven needed every minute of sleep he allowed himself, and waking him over a dream that had happened already twice that week wasn't something Tylendel was willing to do.

:Little brother if you don't get out of this bad habit, I'm going to put a damn bell on you,: Staven grumbled. Tylendel was fairly certain that Staven wasn't serious, but just in case he'd have to be more careful about being back before he woke up the next few days.

He could feel the hint of cool stone under Staven's bare feet, so he assumed he was coming to find him.

Vanyel rolled from his back to his side, facing away from Tylendel. His face scrunched in discomfort when his movement resulted in him rolling out of the warm cocoon of the quilt onto the floor.

Tylendel sat up properly against the wall and draped the quilt more evenly over the two of them. Sunlight crept across the floor, making long shadows and glinting off of Vanyel's dark hair.

He didn't know why, but being around Vanyel made him feel better, starting with their first meeting in the hallway weeks previous. It was like the floating, disoriented fog that had engulfed his mind the moment he had been told of his father's death lifted somewhat, making things clearer.

Staven entered the room, the door swinging open with a creak that sounded like a gunshot in the still morning air but would have been beyond notice had it been a different time in the day. Vanyel stirred at the noise, but continued to sleep.

Staven's eyebrows rose upon noticing that Tylendel wasn't alone.

"How long has he been here?" He asked, voice low, but still seeming too loud.

:A few candlemarks. He didn't know I was here,: Tylendel replied. He felt centered enough he could have chosen to speak out loud, and given the downward twist of Staven's mouth it would have been appreciated, but he thought that at least one of them should enjoy more than a handful of sleep before having to sit through hours of lessons that day.

:And you let him stay?: Staven asked, concern and surprise colouring his words.

:It was his hiding place first,: Tylendel replied, despite the fact that they both knew if Tylendel hadn't wanted Vanyel around he could have left or found a way of shooing him away.

Staven couldn't help but feel a hint of jealousy that he quickly stomped out before Tylendel could sense a hint of it. His brother wouldn't talk to him but he would talk to Vanyel, and wouldn't wake him when he had a nightmare they both still had but would allow a stranger to stay with him. He knew he should have been grateful for any improvement in Tylendel's wellbeing, but he couldn't help but wonder why he, his brother's twin and closest ally, wasn't enough this time.

:Why is he all wet?: He asked instead of asking 'Why am I not enough?'

:His cousins played a prank on him,: Tylendel said, glancing at Vanyel, who now was only a lump of quilt with a hint of damp hair peeking out at one end.

:Living here has never made me happier to only have one brother,: Staven said, thinking of the seemingly endless stream of Ashkevron boys crammed into the attic-level rooms.

:You're trouble enough for five of his cousins,: Tylendel retorted wryly.

Staven couldn't help but feel a thrill at his brother actually starting to show a sense of humor again. If this was what being around Vanyel produced, he would just have to ignore his brother letting in Vanyel where he once let in Staven.


It was a shockingly hot spring day after the weeks of rain and mud they'd endured. The air nearly shimmered with condensation and steam as the land began the long process of drying out. The near spotless blue sky called with a nigh irresistible siren call after so many days of grey drizzly skies. Nearly half of the younglings in Forst Reach snuck out of their classes to enjoy the sudden change in weather, but the adults weren't immune to the call either. It was barely past luncheon when the tutor threw up his hands in defeat and told them class was dismissed.

Most of the boys and many of the girls congregated in an empty glade outside the keep proper to play blind man's bluff.

Staven had no desire to join them, knowing the generally rowdy Ashkevron lot it would quickly degenerate into glorified wrestling. In any case, as nice as the hidden room in the library was, it would be nice to escape the masses of people outdoors.

Tylendel, however, seemed to have different ideas.

Immediately after lessons were dismissed, while everyone else streamed outdoors, Tylendel followed Vanyel up to the library. Staven shot the beautifully sunny day outside the window one last longing look and followed them both upstairs.

:Stop pouting,: Tylendel sent, smirking over his shoulder at Staven as they shimmied into the hidden room. Eventually, they would have to find another way in- Staven had already had a growth spurt and Tylendel was just beginning one as well.

:But it's so nice out! Why are we trapping ourselves inside when even that stuffy old fart let us go?: Staven replied, unable to hide a grin. Tylendel had been speaking more and more to him through their minds and even a bit more often out loud too. Whatever inexplicable magic Vanyel worked on Tylendel, Staven was grateful for it.

"I wanted to show you both something!" Vanyel chirruped once all three of them were settled on the floor. He had a lute across his lap and an unusually enormous smile on his face.

"You're going to play?" Tylendel asked, looking excited. He settled back further against the wall in a little excited wiggle, his elbow bumping into Staven's.

"I'm not very good yet, Vanyel said, uncertainty creeping onto his face. "But I practiced a bunch and my tutor said-"

"Just play already!" Staven teased

Tylendel shot him a mental equivalent of a bonk on the head along with a quick frown and then smiled encouragingly at Vanyel.

He sighed deeply and then bent over the lute and began to play.

It was- pretty fantastic. Staven was hardly an expert, but Vanyel was pretty amazing, peppering out a little simple tune without hesitation, humming under his breath.

When the song ended, Vanyel set his instrument aside and looked up at the two of them, expression guarded, like he expected Staven and Tylendel to tear into him.

Sometimes Staven really wanted to punch each and every occupant of Forst Reach, if only just for that expression he saw too often.

"That was amazing!" Tylendel said, beaming at Vanyel and scrambling over to yank him into a tight hug. Vanyel's face turned bright red.

"T-t-thank you," Vanyel stammered out. "Lissa said it was good too. I'm glad you also liked it."

"You didn't play to us first? I am completely offended," Staven said mock-seriously.

"I wanted to make sure I wasn't awful first," Vanyel protested.

"It was incredible, Vanyel. I can't believe you only started two years ago!" Staven added, when it was clear Vanyel didn't realize Staven was joking. "Now can we go outside?" He added plaintively.

"I want to hear another song," Tylendel said, looking to Vanyel pleadingly. "Please?"

Vanyel blinked, looking startled. Then the biggest smile Staven had ever seen on anyone broke out across his face.

"Okay!"


Staven and Tylendel were the best. Vanyel decided that not long after meeting them. They spent all their free time together, and turned up their noses at the other boys, especially the ones who went out of their way to pick on Vanyel. Staven glowered at anyone who tries to say anything mean about the twins to their faces, and loomed menacingly with his new couple of inches of height on the occasions when that fails. All Tylendel had to do was stare vacantly to scare people off, most everyone at Forst Reach was discomfited by his near-muteness.

Vanyel was torn between jealousy and hero worship.

"I think Jessi was eyeing me up at breakfast," Staven remarked, picking apart a flower piece by piece. He sounded exceptionally pleased by this idea. Vanyel had no idea why. Jessi's voice was grating and all she ever talked about are dresses, not to mention the fact that her nose made her look like a rabbit.

"She was confused why you've done that to your hair," Tylendel replied from where he's sprawled on the ground, eyes closed and bathing in the late afternoon sunlight.

"Ladies think it looks nice," Staven said with an authority he didn't actually have, touching the weirdly uneven cut he'd given it. There was no need for his brother or best friend to know that it was the result of part of his hair being singed off while doing something foolish.

"Gross," Vanyel and Tylendel said at the same time, faces mirror images of disgust.

"Aren't either of you curious about it?" Staven asked, looking a little shy, unusual for him.

"About what?" Vanyel asked cluelessly.

"Being with ladies," Staven replied, turning a bit pink. "You know, bedding them."

"Gross," Vanyel said, wrinkling his nose.

"Maybe..." Tylendel said, looking thoughtful. "I dunno, it sounds kind of weird."

"A good kind of weird," Staven argued, though he secretly agreed a little.

Vanyel rolled his eyes and went back to the book he had smuggled out of the library. Staven might have been the best, but he was also really, really dumb sometimes.


Less than a month later, Vanyel discovered that not only was Staven really, really dumb sometimes, Tylendel could be too.

"Why?" He asked Tylendel, face screwed up in a scowl, tiny hands on his hips. Tylendel had finally hit his growth spurt like his twin brother, and while not as tall as Staven was, was now significantly taller. At nine years old, or 'nearly ten' as Vanyel insisted on saying every time it was brought up, he was significantly shorter and smaller than the twins, who had recently hit twelve. It annoyed him to no end, since it made him feel much younger than his best friends rather than only two years and a few months. He pretended it was simply because he didn't like being so much smaller, but secretly he worried they'd get bored of hanging around a baby like him and would leave him behind.

Tylendel shrugged and said simply, "Staven said it would be a good idea. This way I'll sort of know what I'm doing when I'm older."

"That's stupid," Vanyel said bluntly. "And weird. He's your brother. And this lady is like five years older than Staven and she's my cousin. That makes this even weirder."

"She's your cousin?" Tylendel asked, frowning. Lady Ylena was seventeen, very pretty, and was visiting Forst Reach for the midsummer festival for a short time. She was also very interested in his twin brother, and looked nothing like Vanyel or the rest of Vanyel's family, who all looked more like Withen than Treesa.

"Second, twice removed, or something," Vanyel said dismissively. His enormous family seemed normal to him, but Tylendel and Staven couldn't stop marveling at how it seemed to encompass half the country. They only had each other, their ailing mother, and their uncle back home. "Mother said she is Great Aunt Andi's great-great granddaughter, which makes her the heir to Mother's family's estate, so we have to be nice to her since they're really, really rich."

"Well, this will make her happy," Tylendel replied with a laugh he couldn't stifle. Vanyel rolled his eyes and continued to look annoyed.

"What if it hurts you?" He asked, in a very small voice.

Tylendel instantly felt awful. Vanyel was obviously nervous about the whole thing, and Tylendel had not stopped teasing him about the whole thing for the last candlemark.

"Why would it hurt? Staven and I had talked to each other like this since we were born. It's mostly the same," Tylendel pointed out.

Vanyel shrugged and dug the toe of his shoe into the grass and wouldn't meet Tylendel's gaze. "Dunno," he said, voice still very small. "Just have a bad feeling, I guess."

"Well, why don't you come- and sit outside my room?" Tylendel asked, hastily stopping himself from saying 'wait with me' when he realized what exactly that would mean. He'd listened in on Staven doing things before- mostly when he was trapped in lessons and Staven had been learning more interesting Lord Holder things. Vanyel had been with him when he'd done that before. This was different. Vanyel being there would be exceptionally weird and wrong. But if letting him sit outside would make him less worried...

Vanyel bit his lip and then looked up at Tylendel. His dark eyes were still filled with worry.

"How about I stay down the hall and you yell for me if something goes wrong. I can get the healer or something," he offered.

"Alright," Tylendel agreed, thinking it was a bit much, but would do anything to appease Vanyel.


Several hours later, long after dinner had ended, Tylendel was starting to feel a little grateful.

He nervously wiped his hands on his tunic and fidgeted anxiously. He'd decided that the secret room in the library was the best place to use, since he shared a room with a half dozen Ashkevron boys and fosterlings he was guaranteed to be interrupted somehow. Vanyel was hidden somewhere in the library, mostly out of earshot, but would be able to hear him if he shouted loud enough. Tylendel didn't want to think about how comforting that was. He had a feeling Staven had convinced him of trying something remarkably stupid, but he couldn't back down at that point, Staven would never let him live it down.


On the other side of the keep, Staven sat on the edge of a bed in the nicest guest chamber of Forst Reach and thought that he might be doing something remarkably stupid.

He was missing his tunic, and his pants were half undone. Lady Ylena smiled at him, her strawberry blonde hair spilling over her bare shoulders in a messy tumble.

"Well," she said in a sultry whisper, "aren't you going to help me out of this awful dress. It's been so irritating all evening."

Staven bit his lip and stood. He couldn't back down, Tylendel would make fun of him for weeks on end.


Vanyel sat in the far corner of the library, failing to read a book about Bard Lyra, unable to concentrate for the nervousness coursing through him. He was hidden from view by two bookcases and a chair that he'd moved to create a temporary hide-out on the unlikely chance that one of his relatives actually visited the library. Few did, and it was usually to have an argument they didn't want everyone else overhearing.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. Even if he thought what Tylendel and Staven were doing was dumb and gross, he didn't see how it could be especially dangerous. And yet...

He gave up on the book, carefully setting it aside and curled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them, feeling small and scared and alone like he hadn't since he'd met Staven and Tylendel.

He sat there for a very long time, growing more and more concerned for no discernable reason when he heard Tylendel scream, "VANYEL!"


Tylendel was losing himself.

It was an awful, frightening thing that was all too familiar. After his father's death and his uncle's abrupt decision to send his nephews away, Tylendel had felt like he was half out of his body, torn between it, Staven's mind and someplace else altogether. It had been a struggle to focus on anything happening around him, much less speak. Talking to Staven had been easiest within their minds, but Tylendel had been filled with such rage- at his father for dying, his uncle for abandoning them, their mother for losing herself to insanity, and most of all the poisoner who'd killed his father. Somehow, Vanyel had helped him. It was so much easier to focus on his own body when his friend was around. He was the easiest thing to focus on, to ground Tylendel's wandering mind, even more than Staven.

This felt a thousand times worse than the worst moment after his father's death.

Deep within him, in some intangible place, something snapped.

Tylendel couldn't feel his body- he didn't have a body, he was-

-Staven holding Lady Ylena down by her freckled shoulders, throwing his head back-

-a bird over the training salle swooping down to snatch up a tasty worm-

-Vanyel huddled in a corner, torn up by fear and loneliness-

-a body slumped on the floor, limbs jerking uncoordinatedly as he writhed in pain/pleasure/pain, himself? He used the last of his strength to shout for the one thing that could fix this-

"VANYEL!"


Vanyel heard Tylendel's cry for help and didn't need to even think before he was on his feet, racing through the library, nearly breaking his knees in his haste to duck through the hidden room's tiny door.

The room was chaos, with Tylendel at the very center of it. Everything that had been left in the room was flying around in a destructive, violent circle. Chairs, books, blankets, Vanyel's sheet music- all ripping itself apart and slamming into each other and the walls and floor.

Vanyel had never seen anything like it. He was completely frozen in fear. He had no idea what to do- or even which adult he could run and fetch to fix this. What was happening?

Tylendel groaned in pain, arms jerking backwards onto the stone floor in repetitive, painful thuds.

"Tylendel!" Vanyel shouted, ducking a torn-apart book that flew at his head. "Wake up!"

Tylendel didn't respond, but his head rolled to face Vanyel, his face twisted in pain, his eyes completely vacant.

Like a dead man's, Vanyel couldn't help but think, and then shook himself for being ridiculous.

"It's okay, you just have to wake up," he repeated. He slowly approached Tylendel's prone form, dodging most of the flying objects, though a broken piece of wood from a chair clipped his arm, making him bleed. He ignored that and inched forward, repeating, "Please Tylendel, you need to wake up."

"Who...?" Tylendel whispered, barely audible over the chaos of the flying objects breaking and slamming into each other over head.

"It's Vanyel," Vanyel replied, voice and hands shaking at his closest friend not recognizing him.

"...am I?" Tylendel finished, blinking slowly, some small measure of comprehension coming back into his expression.

"You- you're Tylendel Frelennye," Vanyel said, finally reaching his side. He sat down next to him slowly and tried to grab his hand, but Tylendel's arm jerked violently out of his reach, still spasming eerily.

"Your twin brother is Staven Frelennye. You're twelve years old. You like meat buns and hate tomatoes. You're my best- best friend," Vanyel continued, unable to keep holding back the tears that had been budding to moment he'd entered the room.

Tylendel blinked again, the floating objects slowing down somewhat. A few fell to the floor, destroyed but no longer dangerous.

"Tylendel?" Tylendel repeated, eyes starting to focus.

"Yes," Vanyel said, scrubbing a frustrated hand at his eyes. Of all the stupid times to start crying! Tylendel needed him! "That's your name. You came to Forst Reach six months ago."

"Vanyel," Tylendel said slowly and then jerked upright, the remaining floating objects tumbling to the floor abruptly. Tylendel jerked his head around, taking in the destruction in the room. "Great good gods, what happened?" He demanded, turning back to Vanyel. His eyes were wide with fear. "Did- did I do this?" He whispered.

Vanyel bit his lip and then shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know," he said quietly. "You shouted for me, and when I came in everything was flying around the room and being ripped into pieces.

"Lord and Lady," Tylendel said, starting to shake as he looked around the room again. Every single object had been torn to pieces and lay on the floor in a perfect circle around them.

"It's okay," Vanyel said quickly, before Tylendel could properly start wallowing in shame. "You didn't mean to! It was an accident!"

"I'm a monster," Tylendel said hollowly, and then ripped himself out of Vanyel's reach and leapt to his feet. "I- I'm not safe to be around," he said, voice shaking. "What if I hurt you too? You need to leave right now!"

"But you didn't!" Vanyel protested, and then carefully tucked his injured arm out of sight. "I know you didn't mean to! It has to be magic, or something, right? Like you and Staven talking in each other's heads!"

Tylendel didn't look convinced, but also no longer looked like he was about to leap out the library window to get away from Vanyel.

"So, we should tell him and-"

"No!" Tylendel shouted, and slapped a hand over his mouth when Vanyel jumped, looking very pale and afraid. Afraid of Tylendel. Tylendel felt sick. "No," he repeated, in a normal tone. "Don't- please don't. If... If this has something to do with what I was doing with Staven, he'll blame himself. He always blames himself for anything that happens to me, like being half a candlemark older than me makes him responsible."

Vanyel frowned, but nodded anyways and said carefully, "Okay. I won't tell. Promise."

"Thank you," Tylendel said and sank back down to his knees, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him.

The last thing he heard was Vanyel shouting his name, panicked. And then just silence.


"Wow, that must have been too much for you!"

The first thing Tylendel heard upon waking up was Staven making fun of him. It was not the most pleasant way to wake up.

He cracked an eye open and surveyed the room. He was laying on the floor of the hidden room, wrapped in a quilt, likely stolen from Vanyel's bed given it was too short to cover Tylendel from shoulder to feet. All of the things that had been torn apart were gone, like they'd never been there at all. Vanyel was perched on the window sill, looking pale and worried, a book abandoned on his lap and a lit candle set at his feet. Staven was standing right next to the room's tiny door, looking smug as hell. Tylendel felt like death and wanted to wipe the floor with his face until he stopped grinning like that.

"I am never doing that again," Tylendel swore vehemently. "It was awful."

"That's not promising for your future, brother," Staven said, still grinning. He eyed Vanyel and then said, with less smugness, "Vanyel, what's wrong?"

"I'm starving!" Vanyel said, quickly slapping a pout across his face. "Can you go steal something from the kitchen? I did it last time and the cook chased me out and shouted a lot."

Staven put up a show of being irritated, but agreed since he was always hungry- he had shot up another inch and a half recently and wasn't showing any sign of slowing down and was constantly hungry.

Getting him out of the room was obviously Vanyel's intention when he abandoned his book the moment Staven was gone

"I didn't tell him," Vanyel said, a hint of disapproval in his voice. "And I got rid of all the broken stuff. He got here right after me, it was really close."

"Thank you," Tylendel said with bone-deep relief. Suddenly a thought occurred to him- "Van! Your lute! Gods I'm-"

"Don't worry, I forgot it in mother's bower yesterday," Vanyel said quickly.

"I am never letting that happen again," Tylendel swore, and then flopped back down onto the floor in a careless sprawl. He was exhausted.


Exactly three weeks later, it happened again.

Tylendel had been outside with Vanyel, deep in the forest, reading letters from home. Staven had been stuck in a lesson about being a Lord Holder.

The first had been from an old friend who wrote to him occasionally. It was mostly local gossip Tylendel didn't care for, but was genuinely sincere when he said he missed the Frelennye twins.

The second was from his uncle. His mother was dead. She'd eaten poisonous mushrooms, convinced by some hack that it would bring her father's spirit back to life. She would see his father again, just not in this life.

Tylendel had no warning before he descended into chaos again.

He woke up, surrounded by a circle of broken branches, rocks larger than his head, and torn up dirt and grass. Vanyel was huddled at his side, very pale with a slowly oozing cut on his forehead.

"Oh Gods," Tylendel said, stricken, eyes on the cut.

"Don't be stupid," Vanyel snapped, trying to hide his fear with irritation. "It's just a tiny cut. I've had worse tripping over my own feet in arms practice."

Tylendel slumped back on the ground, fear coursing through him. He'd thought that if he stayed out of Staven's head, this wouldn't happen again. It had happened anyways. There had been no warning- just the letter from his uncle.

His mother.

Tylendel bit back the urge to cry and, with great effort, sat up again.

"The letter?" He asked Vanyel, looking around for torn up bits of paper and saw none.

"I managed to save the one you were reading," Vanyel said, voice soft. "The other one was gone before I could get it. Sorry." He handed the letter over.

"It's not your fault. Let's get out of here before Staven sees all this," Tylendel said, waving a hand at the circle of destruction around them.

Vanyel frowned. "You have to tell Staven before this happens again," he insisted.

Tylendel ignored him and got to his feet.

It must have happened because he'd been upset by the letter. He just had to control his emotions, then it wouldn't happen again.


It did happen. At first weeks apart, then mere days. By some miracle, it was always when Staven was gone. The few times Vanyel wasn't there, the fits seemed to last years, though the longest was less than a candlemark. They were always much shorter when Vanyel was there to guide him back to his own body, like a dim light off a storm-tossed coast.

It happened again and again and again. Tylendel felt like he was losing his mind. Nothing seemed to trigger them anymore, or perhaps everything did. He didn't speak to Staven through their minds any more, tried to control his emotions and avoid being startled- but nothing worked.

There was a monster within him.

Or maybe he was just a monster.


Staven frowned at his twin across the room used for lessons. Tylendel looked ill, skin pale and waxy, eyes unfocused, hair greasy and limp, bags under his eyes an unhealthy purple.

What scared Staven more was that he had stopped speaking to him through their minds entirely. It was almost like when their father had died, though at least this time Tylendel hadn't stopped talked out loud.

Though it wasn't terribly reassuring when the daft bastard wouldn't actually talk about anything useful. He insisted he was fine, just a bit tired.

It had started almost before they had gotten the news about their mother, which had been over a month previous. Staven was starting to want to dangle his brother out a window until he confessed what was wrong. Staven had grown another inch, and his shoulders had broadened enough he struggled to slip through the hidden room's door, so he positively towered over Tylendel. He'd be able to do it.

Vanyel was shooting Tylendel concerned looks too, and Staven knew that he knew what was wrong. Every time he'd tried to get the truth out of him though, he'd insisted he had no idea what Staven was talking about. Vanyel was an awful liar, so Tylendel had to have sworn him to secrecy.

The thought positively burned him through with jealousy. He'd managed to put his jealousy of Vanyel's closeness with his twin aside, once they'd all become friends. But the thought of his brother telling Vanyel something he hid from his twin was almost enough to drive him insane with rage.

If Vanyel hadn't looked so miserable and concerned, Staven would have wanted to dangle him out a window too.


Vanyel knew this couldn't last. Sooner or later, Staven was going to find out. And when he did, Vanyel wasn't sure who he'd strangle first, Vanyel for not telling him or Tylendel for keeping secrets.

The final nail in the coffin came on Vanyel's tenth birthday. Birthdays were never really celebrated at Forst Reach, or at least Vanyel's wasn't. His father would clap him on the shoulder and mutter something insincere about being proud of him, the cooks would make a cake for everyone and his mother would sometimes secretly give him a gift that would anger his father when he found out about it- new stylish clothing, more sheet music, or something of the like. This year, she presented him with a gittern and Vanyel mentally took back every frustrated thought about her being flighty and inconsiderate. He loved it.

To celebrate the day, Vanyel, Staven and Tylendel decided to skip lessons and go out for a ride and not come back until right before dinner, so no one would shout at them until after they'd gotten cake.

The day was glorious, beautifully sunny with a gentle wind that prevented it from becoming overwarm. Star was in a good mood, willing to gallop through the fields, tossing her mane with excitement. Tylendel hadn't had a fit in nearly a week, which was the longest he'd gone in ages. Even Staven seemed like he was in a good mood, the first he'd had in weeks since he'd notice something was wrong with Tylendel.

Of course, that meant it couldn't last.

The three of them snuck into the hall, ignoring the dour looks father and their tutor shot them from the high table, when Tylendel sucked in a breath in a way that Vanyel recognized.

"No," he whispered despairingly. Tylendel met his eyes once, looking panicked and then succumbed to the fit.


It was complete chaos.

There was a split second where everyone stared in horror as the contents of every table in the room flew up into the air. Then Treesa fainted and, as if by cue, everyone started screaming and running to the door. One of the benches reared up, dumping those sitting on it to the floor, and began to fly around at rapid speeds. Another table tipped over and began to circle, half suspended in air, the other half dragging across the stone floor.

Withen grabbed his wife and hauled her from the room, quickly followed by Father Leren and Jervis, who had his sword out and batted a broken chair out of his way ruthlessly.

Staven stood frozen on the spot, eyes glued to his twin on the floor, at the center of the madness. Vanyel was not and ran towards him, ducked several projectiles and shouted, "TYLENDEL!"

A heavy metal platter clocked Staven on the head and he staggered sideways, and then was hit by a broken chunk of table and fell to the ground.

He lay there stunned for several minutes, and then managed to take in Vanyel bent over his twin, whispering frantically in his ear.

The madness continued for several long minutes, everything being torn to pieces, but abruptly halted with Tylendel jackknifing upright.

He looked around frantically and froze when he spotted Staven on the floor staring at him.

Though he was on the other side of the room, Staven heard him whisper "No".

Staven scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room.


"What in god's name happened to that boy?" Withen thundered at Father Leren. He stared into the hall, a complete war zone of broken dishes, furniture and soiled food. His oldest son and one of the Frelennye boys were at the center of it, huddled together on the floor. Withen did not like the way they clung together. It was unnatural.

"A demon, I suspect," Father Leren said sternly. "I always said I thought there was something terribly wrong with those boys, did I not my lord? Though of course there was no way for you to have known," he added smoothly.

"What can we do about him?" Withen asked, frowning at the boys. "Lord Frelennye would not be pleased to hear his nephew has come to harm in my care."

"I expect it began long before he arrived here, my lord. There would have been nothing you could have done, none of us could have done had we known. I suggest we lock him up somewhere remote. I shall contact my order, and ask them to send for an exorcist to look at the boy. Perhaps he can still be saved." The way he eyed both boys with disgust said he did not think it was the case, or that he'd rather it wasn't.

"Tylendel is not a demon!" Vanyel shouted leaping to his feet, hands balled into fists. "It was an accident! He didn't mean to break anything! And no one got hurt!"

Withen and Leren exchanged a look.

"The demon must have your son under its thrall," Leren said firmly. "We must separate them before it's too late."

Withen grunted and hauled his son away from the Frelennye boy by the upper arm.

"Father! Let go! It isn't his fault!" Vanyel shrieked, kicking and punching ineffectually at his father, his limbs too short to come into contact with him.

Father Leren hauled Tylendel to his feet, touching his bare skin as little as possible, a disgusted expression on his face.

"I'll place him in one of the cells in the lowest level of the keep," Father Leren said and strode off, making the shell-shocked Tylendel stumble after him.

Vanyel screamed louder and tried to jerk out of his father's grip.

"Stop this nonsense, or I'll lock you up myself!" Withen snarled at him.

At this, Vanyel seemed to crumple, his legs giving out and he began to sob.

"It wasn't his fault," he hiccupped, between sobs.


Staven was waiting for him, when Vanyel slipped into the hidden room.

"I'm sorry," Vanyel said immediately.

Staven stared daggers at him, but did not respond.

"I should have told you," Vanyel continued. Tears started streaking down his face again. "He made me promise not to tell you."

Staven was silent for a long moment, still staring angrily at Vanyel, like he could pull him apart just with his eyes alone. Finally, he said, voice low and filled with rage, "You didn't tell me because my brother made you promise." He took a slow step forward. Staven was his friend, but somehow Vanyel was filled with fear and stumbled backwards, back hitting the wall. "You didn't tell me when you knew you should, just because he asked you to." Staven's voice was steady and soft, but terrifying when combined with the anger behind his eyes. Vanyel started to cry harder, wanting to look away, to not meet his gaze, but couldn't. Because this was his fault. "You put my brother, my only brother, one of my last remaining family members, my twin at risk because of a stupid few words?"

Staven's hand gripped Vanyel's throat, not stopping his breath, but still applying pressure. Vanyel couldn't help but think that if Staven hurt him, he deserved it.

"I'm sorry!" Vanyel sobbed, nearly choking with tears.

"Do you not value anything, not even family because your home is teeming with rotten people related to you? Or is it because you're given every damn thing you could desire?" Staven asked, leaning in close to Vanyel's face. He was so much taller he was looming over Vanyel. He could crush him like a bug.

"I didn't want to! I begged him to tell you!" Vanyel cried, hands clutching at Staven's tunic desperately.

Staven sneered and tossed him aside. "Like wanting to do something means anything. You didn't do anything, and my brother could have been killed because of it," he said, towering over Vanyel's prone form. "Don't ever come near me, or my brother ever again."

With that, Staven climbed out the window and left, leaving Vanyel trembling and crying on the floor.

This was his fault.


The one good thing about growing up without many friends to occupy his time was that Vanyel knew Forst Reach and its baffling labyrinth of rooms better than anyone else did. It made him likely the only occupant of Forst Reach who could guess where Tylendel was being kept.

Back when the keep had actually served a strategic purpose in war, there had been need for cells to hold criminals and prisoners of war. When Vanyel's grandfather had decided to renovate the entire keep, the bulk of the cells had been converted in wine cellars, cold storage and the like. However, there was a small corner of the bottommost level of the keep that had been untouched, likely because his grandfather had changed plans or gotten distracted by a different project.

In Vanyel's lifetime, they'd always stood empty and unused, and were rather creepy, but he remembered stumbling across them when he'd been running away from one of the older fosterling boys who had been teasing him.

That had to be the cell Father Leren had mentioned to his father.

He waited in the hidden room until long after he was supposed to be in bed, and then waited a little longer to make sure the servants were in bed too. People were well used to Vanyel disappearing when he wanted to and reappearing later, so they no longer bothered to look for him, which suited Vanyel just fine in that instance.

He slipped through the keep on silent feet, freezing the moment he heard any noise. No one was in the halls, thankfully, and eventually managed to sneak down to the mostly forgotten cells through a door in the back of an unused linen closet.

Tylendel was sitting on the floor in the farthest cell, his clothing filthy and a blanket tossed aside. Vanyel could see holes in it where it looked like some sort of rodent had chewed on it.

"Tylendel!" he hissed. No one was around or would hear them, but somehow it seemed wrong to speak loudly in the remnants of a dungeon.

Tylendel's head tipped up. His face was haggard, expression racked with exhaustion.

"Vanyel? What are you doing down here? Go away. I might hurt you."

Vanyel barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, including the time you convinced Staven eating a worm was a good idea," he snapped, and stomped up to the cell door. There was an enormous lock on it. Vanyel had no hope of breaking it to get Tylendel out, so he would have to find another way.

"Father Leren said there was a demon in me," Tylendel said hollowly. "That I'll kill someone eventually, it's only a matter of time."

"You've never hurt anyone!" Vanyel said hotly. "And if you have, it was always by accident. If you wanted to hurt someone you would have just thrown a table at them rather than drag it all around the room and make a mess!"

A hint of a smile appeared on Tylendel's face, and then disappeared.

"You need to go, Van, before they see you down here. They already think you're under my thrall or something. If they think you have a demon in you too..." Tylendel looked away, his voice growing rough with unshed tears. "Father Leren said the exorcist might have to kill me. I don't want you to die too."

Vanyel's legs gave out and he sat down sharply, clinging to the bars of the cell.

"What?" He asked in a very small, thin voice. "No. They can't do that."

"If it's the only way..." Tylendel said and trailed off hopelessly.

"No that's stupid!" Vanyel declared and leapt back to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of the cell. "You never wanted to hurt anyone! I was almost always there, and you never did! Whatever is making the stuff move, it's like it's angry or lost or something. It's confused."

"What's confused?" Tylendel asked.

"Whatever's in you making stuff move when these fits happen," Vanyel explained. "If I figure out what it's looking for, maybe it will stop, and Father Leren won't let an exorcist kill you!"

"So you do think there's a demon in me?" Tylendel asked, sounding a little lost and hurt.

"No!" Vanyel said fiercely. "I don't know what it is, but there's no demon in you and you aren't a demon either. Father and Father Leren are stupid. You're too good to have a demon in you!"

Tylendel smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile, it was resigned. Vanyel would have smacked him over the head in frustration if he could have reached far enough through the bars.

"Whatever you say, Van."

"I'm going to fix this!" Vanyel declared, trying to ignore how defeated his best friend sounded.

Because it was his fault. He had to fix it.


Days passed and there was no more information on what would happen to Tylendel or when then exorcist would arrive or what he would do to Tylendel.

Staven refused to even look at Vanyel, leaving him much more free time than he'd had in months.

That was fine for Vanyel, he had many things he needed to do before the exorcist arrived.

He pestered his father and the priest about what an exorcist did and what demons were and how they knew Tylendel had a demon until his father shouted at him and Father Leren banned him from the chapel except for service.

The library was absolutely useless to Vanyel for the first time in his life, and the eighth time a book mentioned exorcists or demons and failed to give him any further information, he had to restrain himself from throwing it across the room.

His mother was even less help than usual, spending endless amounts of time in bed having vapors over 'nearly being attacked by that wretched child' and wouldn't tell Vanyel anything. Vanyel wasn't even sure why he tried,othe than desperation.

By the time a week had passed, Vanyel gave up on figuring out how to fix Tylendel or trick the exorcist into going away. He had to find a way for Tylendel to escape. And Staven too, since Vanyel knew he wouldn't let his twin leave without him.

Some things were easy enough. He stole non-perishable food from the kitchen and hid it in his room in the library. Both brothers already had horses which made travel straightforward. Money was tricky, until Vanyel gave up trying to get it legitimately and just started taking it from everyone in the keep, just a few coins each to prevent any suspicion.

The hard part was the cell itself. The bars were closely spaced and embedded in stone floor, so Tylendel couldn't squeeze through them and they couldn't be ripped down or even bent or broken. The lock on the cell was heavy and well-made and couldn't be pried open either.

Vanyel languished on this one most important step, while Tylendel despaired and gave into hopelessness even when Vanyel told him about all of the other things he'd done.

Vanyel himself was starting to despair when he was finally presented with a solution. He was stuck cleaning all of the training armor after arms practice because he'd skipped it all week to focus on his plans, and overheard a couple of the older boys talking.

"Where'd you get the wine?" One boy asked, voice hushed. Jervis was long gone, along with the other boys, so he likely didn't realize Vanyel was just on the other side of the pillar.

"Down in the cellar, just had to jimmy the lock open, simple enough. Now I can grab whatever I want whenever," a second boy said with a laugh.

Vanyel set down the cleaning cloth and oil and very carefully peered around the pillar. It was one of the fosterling boys talking to his older cousin Radevel, who was the second one to speak.

Vanyel instantly knew what to do. But how could he convince his cousin? It wasn't like Radevel liked Vanyel in the slightest. But if Vanyel had something to trade him...

Reluctantly, Vanyel gathered up half of the money he'd gotten for Staven and Tylendel and took it to where Radevel often spent his afternoons alone.

He dumped the coins in Radevel's lap and demanded, "Teach me to make locks open."

Radevel looked down at the coins in his lap and back up at Vanyel.

"What?" He said, frowning in confusion.

"Teach me to open locks. I know you can do it. I heard you say so," Vanyel repeated stubbornly.

"Where did you get all this?" Radevel asked, picking up one of the coins and inspecting it closely.

"Why do you care?" Vanyel shot back. "It's all yours if you teach me."

Radevel squinted at him and then sighed and said, "Alright, let me go get my picks."

Lock picking did not come as easily to Vanyel as he had hoped, making him exceptionally nervous about how much time he had left. He applied himself with single mindsd devotion to learning with Radevel's picks, skipping half his lessons and ignoring the lectures he got from his father, mother and tutor about it.

After four days, Vanyel finally got one of the basic locks Radevel had given him to open. It had taken an entire candlemark. He slipped down to Tylendel's cell and tried to do the same on the lock there, just to see if he could do it.

To his despair, he discovered it was much more difficult than the other ones he'd been practicing with.

Another week passed, Vanyel took to spending his entire night fighting with the lock and sleeping in the day in his hidden room where no one would try to force him to go to lessons. He didn't have time for lessons, he needed to make sure Father Leren didn't get Tylendel killed.

"You don't have to do all this," Tylendel said one night. He sounded exhausted, though he spent nearly all of his time sleeping. Vanyel was sure it was because he barely ate or slept. He looked like a living corpse and if terrified him. Vanyel spent a good two candlemarks a night pestering Tylendel into eating something, anything, which was precious time he could have used fighting with the stubborn lock.

"Yes I do!" Vanyel snapped back irritably. He was so tired, it was past the middle of the night and his eyes and hands ached from the dim light and the cold of the dungeon.

Tylendel didn't reply, just smiled weakly like he thought his fate was already sealed, which made Vanyel want to dangle him out a window and shake him until he saw sense. Or get Staven to do it.

Staven, who still wouldn't go near Vanyel. Staven who had taken to writing letters to his uncle begging for his help every day. Vanyel knew that was useless, his father made sure they never left the keep, but Vanyel knew there was no point telling Staven. He had to already know, but was doing something just to feel like he wasn't doing nothing.

It was almost exactly a month after Tylendel had been placed in the cell when Vanyel finally managed to pick the lock on the cell.

He sat back on his heels, not certain he wasn't seeing things. Radevel's picks fell from his loose fingers and chimed like bells against the stone floor.

"Tylendel?" He whispered. "I think I've actually done it."

Hesitantly, he pushed the cell door. It swung open easily and without protest.

Tylendel stared at him wide eyed and then staggered to his feet and fell to the ground in front of Vanyel and engulfed him in a hug.

"Thank you," he whispered, voice thick with tears.

"You're welcome," Vanyel whispered back, clinging to him desperately. He glanced over at the time candle he'd brought down with him since there were no windows to see where the sun was to track time. "It's nearly morning," Vanyel said, and made a face. He'd stayed too long, someone might notice him sneaking out of the basement, or come down and catch him while bringing Tylendel his meal.

"I'll leave tomorrow night," Tylendel said with determination.

"I'll tell Staven," Vanyel said. He was not looking forward to that conversation, but it would have to happen that day. "Don't push the lock all the way closed, maybe they won't notice it's unlocked."

"Thank you," Tylendel repeated, eyes still full of tears of relief.

Vanyel smiled and then darted up the steps, praying no one would see him.

Luck was on his side and he made it all the way to his room in the library and collapsed into sleep the second he lay down. He woke hours later, hands aching and head fuzzy with sleep- he hadn't slept deeply in weeks, too worried about his plan failing.

He'd just entered the hallway, planning on seeing if luncheon was still being served in the main hall, when one of his cousins cornered him.

"There you are!" She said, sounding exasperated and grabbed him by the forearm, hauling him down the stairs. "I've been looking for you everywhere. All the children are supposed to gather in the main hall right now."

"Why?" Vanyel asked, struggling to keep up, his body still half asleep.

She shrugged dismissively. "Don't know. Apparently there's a visitor, wants to see all of us all at once."

Ice swept through his body, like all his blood had been replaced with it. The exorcist had arrived. Vanyel was too late.

He nearly stopped on the spot, or ran away, but his cousin's grip on his arm was too strong and he ended up stumbling after her into the main hall anyways.

Everyone who wasn't of age was gathered in clumps muttering to each other, from Josie who was coming of age in a fortnight, all the way down to little Prim who was not even a year old. Standing at the front of the room was a woman, dressed all in white. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid wrapped around her head and her expression said she'd seen all of them and found them lacking.

"That's aunt Savil," one of his cousins whispered to another cousin.

Vanyel frowned. He hadn't known one of his aunts was an exorcist. Liss would have been disappointed for missing something so exciting.

"This will be a simple exam for each of you," his aunt Savil announced. "I don't expect to have any results from any of you, but it is my duty to check nonetheless. When I'm finished with you, please leave the room."

That said, she approached the first child and placed her hand on his head and closed her eyes.

Vanyel bit his lip and tried to keep from shaking. Once she was done checking all of them for demons, would she go to Tylendel next? Or had she already done that while he was asleep? Perhaps she had and had already killed him!

So wrapped up in fear, Vanyel didn't notice the number of people in the hall dwindling until it was his turn.

"You must be Vanyel," she said, looking him up and down. "Withen's oldest."

"Y-yes, ma'am!" Vanyel squeaked. She nodded once and placed her hand on his head like she had with all of the other children. Vanyel felt something strange whoosh through him, intangible and yet not and fought to keep from shivering at the strange sensation.

"Very unusual," she said and opened her eyes. "You have massive potential for many Gifts, but none of the channels have opened. I doubt they will with time, there's no chance of you becoming a Herald."

Vanyel blinked in confusion. That didn't sound like it had anything to do with demons. In fact, he'd heard Heralds mentioned in some of his favourite songs. They were always heroes.

"What's a gift?" he asked and then hastily corrected himself, "I mean I know what a gift is, but what do you mean by gift?"

His aunt frowned at him. "Were you not paying attention earlier?" she demanded.

"I- I was, but I couldn't hear, the other boys were whispering too much," Vanyel lied, unwilling to mention that he'd slipped in late. She didn't seem like the sort of woman who would appreciate tardiness.

"Gifts are powers that Heralds wield, such as mindspeech, firestarting, fetching," she explained shortly.

"Fetching?" Vanyel asked. It didn't sound terribly heroic.

"The ability to move things through the air with your mind," she clarified.

Vanyel's eyes grew wide. "There's someone you need to see!" He said loudly and grabbed onto her arm insistently, like he was worried she'd disappear.

She frowned. "I thought I asked for everyone underage to be gathered. Why weren't they here?"

Vanyel bit his lip and then blurted, "Father Leren thinks he has a demon in him! Or maybe that he is a demon! He sent a letter to an exorcist to kill him! Only I know it isn't a demon! Tylendel never meant to hurt anyone, honest! He hates when the fits happen, things fly around and break apart, but the only time people have gotten hurt were accidents, I swear!"

Savil stared at him in shocked silence at the onslaught and then said carefully, "Vanyel, I need you to show me this boy."


Vanyel dragged her down to Tylendel's cell, terrified that somehow he'd missed the arrival of the exorcist and it was too late.

Tylendel was seated in his cell, looking despondent.

"This is him!" Vanyel said needlessly. "Please help him! I know he isn't a demon."

"He is no demon, child," Savil said assuredly. "I'll have to have a word with that damn priest. Locking up children like this. He'd damn well know if he had a demon on his hands."

She pushed on the cell door, but to Vanyel's despair, it had been locked again, likely by whoever had brought Tylendel his morning meal.

Savil frowned at the cell door and then said to Vanyel and Tylendel, "Step back, I'm going to open this lock."

Both boys shrank back and watched in amazement as the metal groaned and twisted and finally snapped, like had been ripped apart by invisible hands. The cell door swung open, broken beyond repair.

Before Savil could enter the cell, Vanyel shot past her and all but tackled Tylendel.

"You're not a demon!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with happiness. "Aunt Savil believes me! The exorcist won't have to kill you!"

Tylendel blinked and then gently pushed Vanyel off his lap and stood and extended his hand to Savil.

"Nice to meet you," he said, voice soft. "I'm Tylendel Frelennye."

"Savil Ashkevron," she returned and placed her hand on his head. "This will only take a moment, but I think I know what to expect."

Less than minute passed before she removed her hand and opened her eyes.

"You have several very strong Gifts," she said. "You will make for a very talented Herald Mage, if given the proper training. How long have these... fits been happening?"

"A few months," Tylendel said, sounding tired. He ran a hand through his greasy hair. "At first they happened once every few weeks, then more often. Then I had one at dinner and the priest here said it was caused by a demon and I was locked up."

Savil's mouth tightened. "Yes, I certainly will be having a word with that damn priest. And Withen," she said. Somehow, Vanyel found it exceptionally frightening.

"It's your choice, Tylendel, but if you come with me to Haven, I'll take you on as a Herald Mage trainee. You won't have those fits anymore if I have anything to do with it."

"I won't?" He asked, sounding almost helplessly young and afraid. Vanyel grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Tylendel squeezed back.

"No," Savil said gently. "You won't have to worry about that anymore."


The next morning, Savil announced she was leaving, and taking Tylendel with her.

Both Father Leren and his father looked like they'd eaten sour lemons and didn't argue with her.

Vanyel felt torn- Tylendel was safe now, but it seemed like he'd never see his best friend ever again.

He stood on the steps outside the keep while Savil saddled her white horse and Tylendel's bay mare stomped her feet impatiently. Staven was there too, and Vanyel had to look away while they had their silent goodbyes. At the end, Staven went back inside, face tilted down, but Vanyel knew he'd started to cry silently.

Vanyel was silent all the way up to the moment Tylendel was about to mount up, then burst into noisy, messy tears.

"I don't want you to go!" He wailed loudly and tried to scrub the tears from his eyes, but they wouldn't stop and streamed down his face and chin.

Tylendel abandoned his horse and raced over and yanked Vanyel into a hug.

"This isn't forever!" He promised, patting Vanyel on the back gently. "I'll write you all the time! And Savil is your aunt, so we'll have to come back eventually, right?"

Vanyel sniffled loudly. "Promise?" he asked.

"I swear on my honor," Tylendel said seriously, staring at him fiercely. "You'll get sick of me, from how often I'll write!"

"Hurry up, trainee!" Savil called from across the courtyard.

"Travel safely," Vanyel said, slowly letting go of Tylendel's long sleeves. "Oh wait!" he added, and pulled out a coin purse. It was all the leftover money he hadn't given to Radevel. "Take this!"

Tylendel stared down at the purse in confusion. "Where did you get all this, Vanyel?"

"Doesn't matter," Vanyel said dismissively. "Take it. Aunt Savil said that Heralds give up their right to any inheritances, right? So you only get money from the crown. Take that, just in case. I won't need it."

"Tylendel!" Savil called impatiently.

"We are going to talk about this money later," Tylendel said, mock-sternly, but his eyes were lit up with humor as he tucked the purse into his pocket.

Vanyel stayed on the steps of Forst Reach, watching until Savil and Tylendel disappeared into the distance.

Somehow, it felt like more than just his closest friend had gone.

It felt like he'd lost his heart.

Note: Originally posted on my AO3 account January 7, 2017