My spirits were so low this evening that I asked Ruhamah to be excused from my training. I knew only that I did not have the heart and that it would do me no good, but once I was excused I did not know what to do with myself. I went first to visit Brid, but she had a lesson with Perrine. Then I tried to find peace on the mountain, but Orison and Rumael were already there and at training, so there was no peace to be found there. Inca and Eburnean were both on watch, and no place empty of meaning would have given me the rest that I needed.
So, despite my misgivings, I came back to the place where I wanted most to be.
Freya was also at odds—she was sitting on her bed attempting a new hairstyle, but her hands kept falling back into her lap. There was a book open on the pillow and her laptop waiting on her desk, both abandoned. She glanced up when I came into the room, then got up and went to look out into the street.
“I’m sorry,” I said to her. “I am so sorry for everything. For bringing my weight to your spirit. For bringing danger to your life. I hate myself for being a negative impact in your life.”
Still frowning, Freya went to get her phone and shot off three quick texts, each the same: You okay? Then she sat down on the end of the bed, waiting for the replies.
I knew I should leave. I wanted to leave. But my wings simply would not lift.
She got her replies relatively quickly from her mother, George, and Kara, all affirming that they were well and asking in different words why she asked. She gave each of them an excuse and set her phone aside, sighing.
This was no good, I told myself. It didn’t matter if I buried myself in a desert or went to hide in a freezing ocean—either was better than bringing darkness to her soul. I promise you, that was my exact thought.
And as I turned to leave, she said aloud, “There’s nothing wrong with darkness.”
The words fell into the empty room like feathers. I stood paralyzed, unable to look at her or take another step.
I felt her shiver, but she lifted her head and continued. “There’s nothing wrong with darkness,” she repeated. “Not when it’s temporary. It’ll pass, and in the meantime it reminds us of what’s important and that we have to protect it.”
My friends, she could have said no more perfect words. The tears that had been building in my soul broke free, and I fell to my knees, laid my head in her lap, and wept.
Freya took a deep breath, feeling the release. She did not understand it, but she felt it and was glad of it. And while she thought that she had spoken aloud to sort out her own thoughts, a very small part of her was wondering at whether something outside of herself may have needed to hear the words. Still, she was not afraid. She sat in silence, examining her feelings—and my own—with a gentle wonder.
She sleeps now, and it is my hope that when she wakes her mind will dismiss the experience as a dream. It did have a dream-like quality for her, for the human mind does not easily accept the touch of the deeper truths.
But my mind and my heart and my spirit have been renewed, as if I were recreated by those words. All darkness is temporary, my friends, for the Long Fight will be won in the end, and even it will serve the purposes of our King in the end. This darkness that shadows me is only reminding me what is important, and I will protect her.