Path Of The Broken

13. The Absence of Power

13

The Absence of Power

Relief washed over Alex as bit by bit the world around him intruded. It was dark, blessedly dark, and he couldn’t hear anything either, not even the crackle of power that had been his constant companion from childhood. A complete absence, a void he'd never experienced. He rolled over onto his back and breathed a sigh of relief, his muscles relaxing one after the other like a wave travelling down his body. The last thing he remembered was rushing through the veil to help Kyle. He’d drawn more power to himself than he’d ever done before, courting madness to save his friend. Then, nothing.

Alex poked and prodded at his own mind, although he should have known better. Those memories would come back when they were ready, or not at all. Waking up with no recollection of his location or what he’d been doing wasn’t a new experience these days.

He lay, eyes open, staring up into the nothing, content to let his mind wander, free from pain for this small space of time. Alex snorted as he remembered his uncle’s astonishment when he’d found out months had passed since they had seen each other. While the absence of things seemed like a moment in time to him, he realised that this nothingness prevented him from knowing how much time actually passed.

It could be just moments, or weeks or even months. A vague thought crossed his mind: his lack of awareness of the veil, of power of his surrounds, should concern him. Yet it was the opposite—he felt content, warm, safe. Alex closed his eyes, noting that it made no difference, the blackness the same regardless of what he perceived around himself.

Alex’s eyes flared open, and scrambling to his feet he turned around, seeking a point to use as a reference. There was nothing. Just a deep blackness. For all he knew he might be in a small contained room held by another, or perhaps in a great expanse in the veil of his own making.

Alex realised that the barriers in his mind were in place, more so than he’d ever been aware of doing before, so firm he realised that he’d blocked out his access to the power himself. That is what the absence was, this nothing he struggled to understand. It was new to him, something he hadn’t experienced since childhood. To be honest, he didn’t even remember experiencing this as a child. As far back as he remembered, the power of the veil had always been a part of his life.

Alex sank to his knees as the realisation came to him: he'd constructed this refuge in the veil. It was just that he had almost constructed a wall between himself and the power, which was the cause of the peace he experienced, the peace that normal people felt all the time. Or at least he figured this was what others experienced, except in their normal worlds. After a little consideration of his situation, he lay down and closed his eyes again. Relief washed over him, and he was content to rest, even knowing this wasn’t a good idea; he’d tried it before and it had not ended well.

Alex woke again, or at least he thought he’d been asleep. It was hard for him to tell. He moaned and rolled onto his side, one trembling hand rising blindly up to his face. Unlike the peace last time he woke, this time he was aware that something was terribly wrong. His body shivered although he couldn't figure out what it was in reaction to. He wasn’t cold in this place, or hot or anything. Where the absence had been soothing the last time he woke, now he felt a terrible dread, as if something vital he needed was missing. Uncontrollable tremors wracked his body, pinpricks of sweat breaking out over every inch of his skin. Memory flashed in his mind: Kyle, his eyes blank, lunging forward with his sword, and the sudden pain in his stomach along with the realisation that Kyle had just stabbed him.

My friend, no. What have you done to yourself?

The surrounding void fragmented, pinpricks of light shining as cracks appeared in the black mirror. The background hum of power assaulted his mind, growing increasingly louder, and then the dark mirror shattered as piercing light drilled through and burst upon him. Alex bucked in agony as the power assaulted his mind and body at levels he hadn’t known before, almost as if the veil was punishing him for locking himself away from its influence.

Alex screamed as wave upon wave of power charged into him. It was like he was exploding. The power channelling through him was overwhelming and even though he tried to grapple with it, to control it, he didn’t know where to start. Just as he thought he was gaining control, pain assaulted him once more, power burning through every fibre from head to toe, over every inch of his body. His mind became confused and he lost himself and his battle for control.

The space around him seemed to change and merge from a vague something to nothing, colour receding until everything was a writhing, crackling mess, the whiteness of pure energy. Rippling out from him, the space transformed, with walls rising around him and a roof above. He felt constrained as the walls closed in on him, the power cracking everywhere as he writhed in pain. His vision seemed to explode in a mass of small glittering bursts of light. He screamed out into the veil, begging for forgiveness, for the pain to stop, for something familiar to intervene.

Alex, come back, stop torturing yourself. Isabella’s mind voice was calm and reassuring as she separated from the whiteness and walked towards him. She knelt and gathered him to her.

Alex clung to her desperately, allowing Isabella to draw him back.

Alex became aware slowly, realising he was comfortable and warm. He’d obviously found his way to a bed, and feeling movement he realised he hadn’t found the bed alone. Alex shuddered as memory assaulted him. The nothingness, the lack of power. Then the pain as pure raw power broke through barriers he hadn’t intended to construct. Then Isabella’s voice out of the nothingness, reaching through the power, shunting it aside and drawing him back to her. He remembered he’d sobbed with relief as she’d drawn him back and soothed his mind and chased the pain away. He hadn’t fought against her compulsion to sleep, certain he was safe as she watched over him.

Alex opened his eyes and turned his head to one side, and found Isabella curled up with him in the bed, her hand resting on his chest, one leg over his. Given they were both fully dressed and lay on top of the bed—even if they had slept in each other’s arms—he gathered on this occasion he could trust his memory. They had just slept last night, Isabella offering him security and comfort.

Alex stifled a groan; he didn't want to wake her. This was a complication to his life he didn't need. Still assessing how he was this morning, he realised he didn't want to move either. This current calm and peace wasn’t something he’d known for a long time. He realised that he felt safe to be with her and around her. In part he realised this was because she was strong with the veil herself, competent and sure of herself. He knew that if he got out of control, she would be fine.

He nearly sat bolt upright when the memory of the fight hit him in a series of rapid-fire images. First against a group of Kin. Then his shock at finding Kyle was once more enslaved to another’s will. That shock compounded when he realised that someone was his mother. Alex closed his eyes, and the memory of his fight with Kyle hit him—or rather, the fight against his mother when he’d tried to free Kyle. She’d set Kyle on him. He knew his friend would never act like that on his own. Alex ran his hand against his midriff, noting that his injury from Kyle’s blade had healed.

He knew when Isabella woke; her breathing rate changed, and she took a breath in, her eyes opening, a smile on her lips.

Morning, Alex. How are you feeling? Understanding shone in Isabella’s eyes and was clear in her tone.

Isabella, please, I don’t want that to happen again.

The bed shifted as Isabella moved closer. He didn't resist as her arms folded around him, her soft lips kissing him lightly on the temple.

Rest, Alex, you’re safe. I’m here. You need to stop fighting who and what you are.

Alex relaxed again as he allowed himself to be soothed in Isabella’s arms. He didn’t want to contemplate the mess with Kyle or his mother right now, content to allow the world to look after itself for a little bit longer. Isabella was correct in her assessment. He had to stop fighting against his own nature. It was easier said than done, though, having spent most of his life fearing he would become one of the Sundered.