L. J. Amber
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TEWWBAD Chapter 33
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 12:00:11 +0000 UTCCHAPTER 33 – Sharp Recollections
The rain began again as they settled down to talk, drumming against the windows of Celaena’s sitting room in a cold, clear wash. Celaena mentioned she felt chilly — which prompted Laewyn to fuss over her, fetching a pair of thick slippers and a thicker blanket from the bedroom before heading off to make warm tea. Swaddled in the blanket, she shuffled over to the comfortable couch and sat in the middle, Faylar lounging against the arm to her left with the kind of irreverence that showed they were well-accustomed to each other’s company.
Iolas politely asked permission to seat himself on the nearby armchair, sinking into the cushions as Celaena nodded. Saphienne realised the only seat left was implicitly reserved for Laewyn, and fetched herself a pillow from the narrow windowsill, sitting upon it on the floor a little distance from Iolas.
Laewyn returned, floating tray in tow. Drinks were duly distributed, and Laewyn went to press the tray with the teapot down next to Saphienne — then reconsidered, bringing it over to hang in the air next to Faylar.
Saphienne folded her arms, and Celaena and Iolas’ quiet laughter at her broke the tension.
Perplexed, Faylar looked from her to the tray and back. “In-joke? What did I miss?”
“Experimental observation gone awry,” she said, then sipped her tea.
“Well, consider me intrigued.” Faylar gently nudged the tray, as though poking at her, but the nervous levity of the moment had passed, and he gave up his jesting.
Laewyn took the last place on the couch, and curled close to Celaena, hesitating before she placed a hand on her arm. Her girlfriend – though not yet acknowledged so – flinched slightly, but weariness swiftly made Celaena abandon self-imposed decorum, leaning on her shoulder for moral support.
Everyone waited for Celaena to speak, listening to the rain.
“We need to set some rules,” she finally said.
“I agree.” Iolas sat forward, gesturing to the couch with his cup. “Celaena, Saphienne, and I: we could all lose our apprenticeships. We’re not allowed to talk about our lessons.”
Laewyn still found it hard to accept. “Why?”
Saphienne spoke up as Iolas hesitated. “Answering that question involves explaining more about the lessons. I agree with you — it’s ridiculous. I’m not convinced the point is a good one. But,” she sighed, “working under the assumption that Faylar really would benefit from not knowing too much in advance…”
Faylar nodded. “I get it. It’s like that meditation test — with the illusory fire?”
Saphienne froze.
Seeing her reaction, he laughed, and took a deep sip of his tea. “You and Filaurel were both so focused on celebrating your success that you didn’t realise what you were sharing.” His smile waned. “You know, I wondered if that meant you didn’t really believe in me… but later on you refused to answer my questions, so I figured you were so excited that you just fucked up.”
“I didn’t know it was a secret, not until Filaurel told me. Sorry,” she said, feeling guilty. “Filaurel said it’s harder if you’re expecting it...”
“Guess I’ll find out.” He played it off with a shrug, drank more tea. “But the point’s pretty obvious. Some of the lessons are meant to be surprises.” He eyed Celaena, then Iolas. “Tell me I’m wrong?”
Neither risked answering.
“Thought so.” He leant back, satisfied. “Just talk around it, and Laewyn and I will pretend really hard that we’re too slow to fill in the blanks. Right, Laewyn?”
“I’m just a simple apprentice baker,” she agreed. She locked eyes with Saphienne, smiling playfully. “And with all the wine I drink, I’ll probably forget what little I understand.”
Saphienne snorted, and smiled back.
Faylar raised an eyebrow. “Really? Have you been leading my best friend astray? Poor Celaena is too–”
He was cut off by Celaena sharply elbowing him just below his ribs, and he laughed as he caught his breath. No one else laughed with him.
Iolas studied the contents of his cup. “I suppose we can try,” he said. “But if we’re going to risk this, then… Saphienne, you’re the one who told–”
“I’ll be the one to share,” she agreed, having already prepared to speak. “I don’t think we need to share much. We were studying the discipline of Invocation; Celaena was possessed by a spirit of the woodlands; the spirit left her with knowledge of the discipline that she had never been taught.” She stared up at Celaena. “That enough context?”
“Yes.” Celaena was very uncomfortable, so much so that she was faintly trembling as she warned Laewyn. “But, if father ever hears that–”
“I won’t.” Laewyn stared deeply into her eyes. “I promise. No matter what. Even if we don’t…”
Faylar broke their awkward silence. “Well, I’m not going to say a word. For all I know, learning too much in advance might bar me from studying to be a wizard. Better safe than sorry.”
Celaena stared up at the ceiling. “Then… I…”
Saphienne leant forward.
“…I’ll share what happened.”
* * *
Here, I will repeat what Celaena told her friends, in her own words.
* * *
When the spirit took my hand, I felt her presence. I don’t mean her touch, or her standing there… it was like she was close. Like she was right behind me, looking over my shoulder? But she was most present where our hands touched, and I could feel her flowing into my fingers, like beating waves… or a heartbeat.
Then she was suddenly everywhere, and… it was like the world fell away.
I was… I don’t know how to explain it. I was drowning in flowers. There was cold, too, like ice water dripping from their petals. They– they were winding around me, smothering me, burrowing into me.
But none of this was actually happening. I could still feel everything else, beneath. I could still see you, Saphienne, right up until my eyes closed — and I could still hear you.
Then the spirit… she was among my thoughts. I don’t know how else to say it. It wasn’t like a voice in my head. It was like… you know that sense of things, behind words? You see something, and you’re aware of it and know what it is, even without forming the words for it? The moment before thinking. You know, but you haven’t yet said. She was there, in that place.
Except, it wasn’t… she didn’t intrude. Or, well, she did — but it was like she was always there, like she and I had always been part of each other. Where my mind ended and hers began, I couldn’t tell. When I thought, it came from both of us. When she thought, it came from both of us. But we were different, distinct.
And she–
…She was stronger than me.
You two know what happened. I was there, for all of it. Thoughts occurred to me, but they weren’t mine. I said things, but they weren’t my words. When I moved, it was like breathing — unintentional. I could see, hear, feel… and everything was more vivid. Colours were brighter, sounds louder. I couldn’t– I couldn’t shut it out–
…I’m fine.
Throughout, I was in the flowers. And she was speaking to me. She didn’t need thoughts to do it: I just understood what she meant. Like she had already said what she was going to say, and the meaning had already settled into my head. I think I spoke to her the same way, because I don’t remember exchanging words with her, but we talked.
She told me it was temporary. That I had accepted her offer without reservation, and there was no backing out. I was– I was her shell, until she was done with me. Maybe minutes, or hours… or days… or months, even years…
I said I’m fine.
…But I was panicking. And she was only– she was amused. I could feel what she felt. And she knew what I knew. She searched through my memories, things I’d learned and experiences I’d been through, and I remembered everything along with her.
When she was speaking to you, she was using me. I don’t mean using my voice, or at least, not just my voice. She was using my knowledge — she only knew a few words of Elfish on her own. But what she did with what I knew…
Have you ever seen someone good with cards? It was like that. Everything I knew was like a deck of cards to her, and she could deal them, shuffle them, flick through them. Father only explained archaic Elfish to me once, but she drew the card easily — and knew it would be too difficult for both of you to understand, unless she toned it down. And the thing that… the thing that scared me was this feeling, this…
…She’d never done it before. Really, I think she hadn’t.
Because… because she was joyful. She was playing. She was delighting in doing it, like she was dancing for the first time.
…Well.
She teased me. She remembered things I’d said and done, or thought, and teased me about them. She wasn’t vicious about it, but… it was all personal. Private to father and me, and to me and Laewyn. At the same time, she gave me knowledge. It wasn’t like she was teaching, it was like… like taking a cutting from a flower — exactly like that. She cut part of herself away, and transplanted it into me; the transplant grew into understanding. That’s how I learned about Invocation.
But there was more, near the end. She was frustrated by–
It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say, she was frustrated with Saphienne.
She wasn’t only frustrated; I could feel her holding herself back from me. She could tell I felt that, and then she–
…Sorry, this is hard.
She shared some of how she really felt. Just a little. And it was– she was sorry for me. Like I was just a scared little bird in her hand. Like she was trying to be gentle. That this was all just a game to her, and she resented having to play along.
And that, that made me angry. I– there weren’t words, but if we had used words, I’d have called her a fucking evil bitch.
She laughed. She agreed. She felt sad. And that just made me want to–
…I’m fine. Let me finish.
She asked me if I wanted to understand the spirits of the woodlands. If I wanted to know just how kind she was being.
And I was furious, and scared, and I couldn’t think clearly.
So I challenged her. I challenged her to make me believe her.
* * *
“Celaena, I really think–”
“Iolas, no.” Celaena rubbed her cheeks. “Just shut up. This is what you all wanted to hear.”
Saphienne saw Iolas frowning from the corner of her eye. In front of her, Faylar and Laewyn were worried, the latter with her arm around Celaena’s shoulders, holding her as she struggled through the telling.
“Right before the spirit left me,” Celaena continued, “she gave me more. Another cutting — but this was different. She didn’t just give me knowledge.” Taking a deep breath, the wizard’s apprentice held it as she closed her eyes; she exhaled very slowly before she spoke again. “She gave me memories.”
“Of what?” Saphienne asked.
“I don’t… I don’t know for sure. I don’t know if they’re even real.” Red-eyed, Celaena stared at Saphienne. “They weren’t her memories. Or at least… I don’t think they were her memories. Whoever they belonged to, they’re jumbled together… and mixed with my own.”
Faylar put his hand on her arm. “Celaena, what happened?”
“There was a boy.” She pinched her nose. “A young boy. He must have been five, maybe six: his ears were still too large. He was dressed strangely, but I don’t remember what he was wearing.” Celaena lapsed into silence, finding her nerve before she spoke again. “He was bleeding. Something had cut his throat… I think it was an accident, but I don’t remember. We were– the person I was in the memory was with him, deep in the woods, and the two were alone.”
So far forward in his chair that he was almost on his feet, Iolas whispered, “What happened?”
“I don’t know. The memory blurs into another. I– the person who experienced the memory was being shouted at, pushed around. They were being forced to…” She shook her head as her voice rose. “…It’s all too much, and too vague. I can’t remember the crowd, or what they said, or where I was. Where they were. I just remember being made to… like kneeling, or sinking down. And being afraid. Being deathly afraid.”
Though the rain had eased, the wind still swayed the branches beyond the window.
“A tree grew around me.” Celaena shivered. “It grew, and grew, and died. I remember where I was – exactly where I was – and what I could see around me, but I couldn’t move. And I was–” Her chest heaved, and she leant forward, holding herself as she fought to calm the memory. “I was alone. I was screaming for help, and no one came. And the days, they went on, and the leaves turned, and the snow came, and then it–”
She choked, accepting Faylar’s handkerchief to wipe her face. She blew her nose, loudly, nearly overwhelmed.
“Years.” She moaned the word. “Years passed. I was there for– for hundreds– a thousand–”
Iolas blanched. “Oh gods…”
Sniffling, gasping, Celaena fought through it. “And I’m still there. I’m still in that place, in that tree, screaming. No one came. No one helped. There was a moment, a moment where I thought someone…” She heaved, swallowed hard. “…But there was no one. And I woke up from that as the spirit left, but it’s still–”
Unable to listen anymore, Saphienne stood. “Faylar, apart from their language, what else do you know about woodland spirits?”
Horrified, he managed to tear his eyes away from Celaena as she wept, though kept stroking her arm. “Not– I don’t know much. What do you want to know?”
The coin in her palm felt very hot. “Whether they can be killed.”
All of them – even Celaena – stared in shock.
Saphienne folded her arms.
“Saphienne,” Iolas said, his voice unsteady, “even if they can be… you’re fourteen.”
“And you’re seventeen. Nearly eighteen.” She nodded toward Celaena. “You were furious at Almon for how he treated Celaena. What the spirit did was worse. Where’s your anger now?”
Celaena inhaled, shuddering. “I don’t want you to kill her. I don’t– I don’t even know if what she showed me is true. They weren’t her memories.” She wrung the handkerchief between her hands. “Maybe they weren’t anyone’s. Maybe they were a dream — a nightmare. I hope so.”
Laewyn pulled her close. “What do you want?”
Giving in, Celaena turned and put her arms around Laewyn, burying her face in her neck as she let herself be held. Her tears were nearly cried out, and the comfort she found in their embrace gave her peace, stillness returning to her in the long pause that followed.
When she drew away, she was calm, smoothing down the blanket. “…I need to know if it was real. And if it was, I need to– I need to know that it’s not me, in that tree.” She met them with tired but steady eyes. “That’s what I want.”
Faylar asked, “How?”
Iolas was quick to answer. “We can ask a priest to invoke–”
“No spirits.” Celaena shook her head. “I’m not supposed to know this. She told me — I need to be very careful who I share all this with. I don’t know what, but something terrible will happen if the wrong person finds out.”
Saphienne snarled, “Terrible for her?”
Wavering, Celaena shook her head. “No. For me. Or maybe… whoever the memory belongs to. Perhaps both of us.”
Squeezing her tear-wet hand, Faylar repeated his question. “How, then? What can we do? None of us are wizards; none of us are priests.”
She shrugged, helpless.
Saphienne turned away from them, walking to the window. Beyond her faint reflection the afternoon was pale and clear despite the wind, and the woodland vista stretched far away, the view from the mighty wizard’s home stunning. Yet to her, the green of the branches that roiled in the wind stirred as though writhing, writhing like Celaena had upon her bed, contorted in fear and pleading, begging for mercy in a language that Saphienne didn’t speak.
What struck her then was how readily she believed it all. Not just because Celaena had suffered, but because that suffering, that malevolence was deeply familiar to her. She had seen elves be unconscionably cruel. Was it really so difficult to believe woodland spirits could be?
After all, those spirits were just as complicit in what happened to–
“Celaena,” Saphienne said, avoiding her reflection’s gaze, “you said you remember where this happened? Where you – or the person that you were – was imprisoned?”
“I do…” Celaena knew what she was thinking.
“Then the answer’s obvious.”
Bewildered, Laewyn let go of Celaena. “What? What should we do?”
Coin clenched in fist, Saphienne pointed to the woods. “We go and look.”
End of Chapter 33
Comments
Claire Hiria Ahuriri-Dunning
oh daaaaaaamn
