Chapter 15 - Mother's Milk

Iris

“Think of it like a muscle. You have to properly train it. It will be slow, but you will see improvement, no doubt.”

Iris was in no mood to listen to Aerowyn’s brambling. Yes, she did want to learn more about her Trait. Under Aerowyn’s guidance, she was learning to control its activation. It didn’t require Auris, but rather another part of her. That part just felt wrung out like a worn towel after being used one too many times to clean up waste from the sewers.

It was a mind bending experience for Iris every time she was successful. Colors became sentient, energy talked in a sense that wasn’t oral. The visible spectrum turned into a moving painting of potential, just…out of reach.

That inability to touch and manipulate the dense Auris surrounding her brought about a bitterness so potent it would have drowned any man or woman in its flavor. Still, her control over its activation had improved, the duration she could hold it getting better as well.

Furthermore, her training had revealed more of what she had glimpsed when her Trait first activated. Those lines in Colin’s body? Aerowyn had them too, as did Walter. Iris’ intuition, which she considered rather competent in finding abstract connections, led her to believe they were channels of Auris running through their body. Each part of their body, from the head to torso and every extremity held these raging channels of Auris. Colin’s were thick and dense, noticeably more so than even Aerowyn’s or Walter’s.

On one occasion during her activation, Iris had looked down at herself, fully expecting to see the same thing. Except, where the Auris channels in the others’ were full of a flowing vitality, her’s were so thin she struggled to perceive them. It was demoralizing, to say the least.

When she’d told Aerowyn, he hadn’t commented. He’d only looked more pensive and thoughtful about the revelation.

“Can we please do anything else? I’d rather train with a weapon than do this, I feel like I’ve been run over by a stampede of equilds.”

“Bah, fine! I planned on following a possible lead on your Auris problem anyhow.”

Iris rolled her eyes, “It’s unfixable. Otherwise there wouldn’t be Blanks in the first place.”

“And I’m to assume every other Blank in the Reaches carries the same connections and resources I do?” Aerowyn raised his eyebrows at her.

Her retort was lost on her lips, the truth of his statement still ringing in her head after he left. Aerowyn hadn’t given her any clear instructions on what she was to do, so she made her way out of the room and meandered around the abode.

It had been approximately a fortnight since she’d left the castle. Since then, multiple contingents of Oathbound had come to the residence. Each time, Iris and Colin were told to hide in their rooms as Aerowyn utilized his Trait to hide the three of them. The Patriarch had been brought for questioning a few instances, and Aerowyn had to remind Iris that Walter would be fine. Sure enough, he’d come back within a few waves, looking no worse for wear.

She’d assumed they would employ some method of torture or capture of the Patriarch to pull Aerowyn out of hiding. According to Walter, he didn’t have any offspring to resume control of the House, and the Sovereign didn’t want to deal with the logistics of an empty House. Both Aerowyn and Walter refused to explain further what those logistics were, only saying the responsibility of their House within the city was irrefutable. What that was, she didn’t know.

Colin had slowly devolved into a ball of nervousness, primarily due to the lack of knowing the fate of House Graven. His pent up emotions had reflected in their training—his instruction in combat becoming more harsh and demanding. Their interactions around the house had transformed into something standoffish, his responses to those around him never containing more than a couple words.

Overall, he’d developed into a proper piece of shit.

As she walked around the house, Iris stumbled upon Walter in his study sipping on his usual drink of choice. A type of herbal concoction made from boiled leaves only found a few leagues outside of the city, as she’d found out.

“Ah, Iris. I presume your tutelage under Aerowyn has been going well?”

“I suppose, if you call feeling like a wrung out towel as going well.”

He chuckled, “You’ll have to forgive him. Once he has a goal in sight, it’s like he becomes mad with obsession in reaching that objective. It’s both a good and bad quality of his, depending on the circumstances. Would you care for a drink?”

“Will it help in getting rid of this void-like suffering?”

“Not at all.” Walter poured her some of the same beverage into a small cup exactly like his own. “From what I’ve seen, time and rest are the only cure.”

Iris sighed and accepted the warm cup from Walter, taking a small sip of the moderately murky liquid. She could see why Walter preferred it. The drink was light and airy, in a way. There was also an aftertaste of an earthy freshness. Her empty reserves from Trait-usage weren’t recovered any more than a moment ago, but it helped perk her up nonetheless.

“Quite an invigorating drink, isn’t it?”

“Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this.” She agreed.

“Tell me, Iris. What is it you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your goals, aspirations, ambitions.”

“To not get caught, see Tar again, Elder Varron too.”

“While I would like to ask you about who those individuals are, let me clarify. Those are more immediate goals, of course. Rather, what do you want from your life? To explore the kingdom? Open a business? Laze away until time takes you into the next existence?”

Iris contemplated his words. What did she want? That wasn’t a question she made a habit of asking herself. Her old life in the Reaches was more of the same thing day in and day out: wake up, complete daily chores around the church, then go diving with Tar. If they were lucky, they’d find a valuable or two to sell for coin. That was what pushed them to keep going. With that, they could buy food, better clothing, maybe a knickknack to keep them entertained. It wasn’t like the church or orphanages were financed by the kingdom. Long term motivations weren’t affordable thoughts.

Today was no different. Her living conditions had changed, she was properly fed and even received training. But there was still a proverbial axe hanging over her head, ready to drop the instant she was caught. Lofty dreams and ambitions were things an orphan like her couldn’t spare.

“I’m…not sure.”

Walter smiled, similar to Aerowyn in a gentle way. Or was it pity?

“That’s not surprising, given the hectic days you have experienced. I’ve a hunch the past was not much better for you, either. You will be shocked to know Aerowyn can relate to you, to some extent. Not quite to the same degree, but he has also been through hardships. Don’t tell him I said anything, though.” He finished with a chuckle.

“Hardships?”

“It’s not my place to say. Perhaps he will tell you, under the right circumstances.”

Iris frowned, a thought she’d been stewing on since first meeting Walter coming to bear.

“I’ve been meaning to ask…how are you and Aerowyn related? I’m sorry if this comes off as rude. I just don’t see the resemblance.”

Since their first meeting, Iris had trouble spotting the usual signs of similar features between the two. Maybe there was a chance Aerowyn was an offshoot of the main familial branch?

“It is…complicated. Another story I wish I could share with you, dear.”

Walter’s demeanor turned somber. Iris decided against probing when she got the feeling Walter was done talking for now. Their conversation had given her plenty to think on, mainly what her future plans were, assuming she could maintain her freedom from the King’s clutches.

Iris finished her drink and left the reminiscing man to his thoughts.

***

THUMP!

Too low and a tad to the right.

Iris nocked another arrow and pulled back on the bowstring. Despite her trembling arms, she zoned in on the center circle and timed her breathing so her release wasn’t affected.

THUMP!

Closer this time.

She’d wanted to get a few more rounds of archery practice in. Every day she felt herself getting better. Her hold on the bow was steadier, and each arrow loosed was closer to the center of the target. Obviously, she didn’t count the random lucky shot that hit center as an improvement.

Only a fool would mistake luck for skill.

She retrieved the arrows from the target and the few that had strayed wide. Taking her place back where she’d made a mark on the ground, she nocked again while calming her breathing.

“Stop shaking.”

The voice caught her by surprise and caused the arrow to completely miss the target. She whipped around to see Colin leaning against one of the pillars surrounding the courtyard.

“Can I help you?” Iris asked, annoyance apparent.

“Yes, stop shaking.”

Iris exhaled forcefully and turned back to the target.

She didn’t want his grumpiness to affect her self-led training. Colin’s constant foul mood and trite comments were grating on her, so much so she had taken to actively avoiding him when she could.

As for right now, her solution?

Ignore the pouting mope behind her.

Nocking another arrow, she attempted to drown out any distractions that could plague her focus. Breath in…out…release!

THUMP!

Nock, draw, breathe—

“Still shaking.”

Without releasing, Iris swung around and aimed at Colin.

She meant it as a warning rather than a threat. The fingers on the bowstring had other ideas as they lost the tension keeping the draw.

There was a twang of the bowstring snapping back into place, and Iris could make out Colin’s eyes widening for a fraction of a moment. With a humming of arcing lightning, three things happened at once.

First, the arrow pinged off the column where Colin had been just prior.

Second, Colin appeared in front of where Iris had been standing.

Third, Iris rolled across the grass while her chest erupted in pain from Colin’s punch.

She came to a stop after the third or fourth roll, and she started lightly patting her chest as she failed to draw air. She let out a gasp when the sweet and intoxicating air rushed into her lungs at long last.

Furiously, Iris stood up and stomped towards Colin who hadn’t moved from his spot.

“What is FUCKING wrong with you?!”

“Me?! You shot a Mother’s damned arrow at me!”

“It was an accident, you shitbag!”

“Oh it was an accident that you turned around and fired an arrow right at me?!”

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His mocking tone only stoked her frenzy to new heights. She stood there flabbergasted that he truly thought she was the one in the wrong.

“So you see I’m correct, then?” Colin added.

“What? No, idiot! You still didn’t have to punch me! Why didn’t you stop after you dodged?!”

“Yeah I’m not dealing with this shit.”

He turned and started walking away.

“So you see I’m correct, then?” Use his own strategy against him. Tar would be proud.

Colin’s form blurred and he appeared right in front of her again, making her wince from the sudden movement.

“I’m trying to help you, Iris! You’re shaking harder than a child standing before an ignidrac!”

“Ignidracs aren’t real, dimwit.” She countered, although probably not the best she could come up with.

“Is calling me every name under Rynor’s light making you feel better about yourself?”

“What do you expect?! I’m angry you hit me!”

“Well then I hope everyone who attacks you down the road gets the same treatment you’re giving me. It will most definitely save your life as they go for the kill.”

Iris was seething. Why couldn’t he just understand his snide little comments only made her more infuriated? She briefly thought back to the arguments she had with Tar. He’d been the same way. By the Mother, these men were frustrating sometimes.

She wanted to come up with some sort of counterargument, but when her focus returned to the present, Colin’s back was disappearing into one of the doorways leading back into the house.

If Colin was going hoping to get an apology, he was sorely mistaken. He would be the one apologizing, and she’d stand there triumphantly.

Iris stormed back inside, Colin nowhere to be seen. That was fine with her, let him stew on what just happened.

A jolly tune of someone whistling approached from down the hallway, and Aerowyn came around the bend smiling from ear to ear. He was carrying a wooden crate that produced clinking from within as he walked. His eyes landed on her and he lit up with excitement.

“Just the girl I was looking for! Come here, I’ve got—”

Iris marched past him, intent on returning to her room to think. Turns out, the exchange affected her too. She just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

“Iris? Are you alright?” Aerowyn followed behind and placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in the hallway.

“I’m fine!”

“Woah woah woah.” He placed his other hand on her shoulder and leaned down so he was level with her, “What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine!” She repeated.

“Well you’re obviously not, so why don’t we talk about it? Perhaps that will assist in releasing this frustration you’re under.” Thankfully, Aerowyn wasn’t being patronizing or obtrusive. His tone held a patience that seemed experienced for those with children.

“I…had an argument with Colin. It may or may not have turned into a physical fight. I’d rather not talk about it right now.” Iris absently touched the spot where Colin’s strike had landed.

Aerowyn noticed her distracted prodding, and he softened.

“If that’s what you would like, Iris. Come, I might have something that could cheer you up. Using my various connections, and pulling a few strings with people that owe me a debt, I think I may have found a solution to your Auris problem.”

“How many times do I have to remind you that my problem can't be fixed?”

Wagging his finger playfully, he spun around and practically hopped back to the dining room where he’d first left his crate of clicking goods.

Iris knew the Patriarch had mentioned Aerowyn’s devotion to seeing things through, but this was absurd. She’d tried explaining to him four or five times on multiple occasions that it just wasn’t doable. Every time, he’d just brush her off and pretend he didn’t hear her.

She followed him into the dining room as he spoke, “You see, there are a few members of the Kingdom’s military I made friends with in the past. A couple of them owed me a favor,” Aerowyn opened the crate, pulling out vials containing a clear liquid inside, “and I had them gift me a few potions that are considered life savers in battle.”

There were five in total, each the same as the last.

“What are they?” She asked, interest piqued.

“They don’t have an official name, as they’re somewhat frowned upon. Not endorsed by the Kingdom by any means, the only way to get them is within certain circles of what I’d call the underground market. But the people who know about these little beauties call it the Mother’s Milk.”

“Really? A tad provocative, don’t you think?” She grabbed one of the vials and inspected it.

“They’re ruffians and scoundrels. Did you expect them to call it by a virtuous name?”

He had a point.

Iris uncorked the stopper and sniffed. It didn’t even have a smell. If Aerowyn were to tell her it was water, she wouldn’t have disagreed.

“What does it do?” She felt like he was stalling. His gleaming eyes gave away that he was indeed trying to build up to the big reveal.

“They heighten every sense. Literally everything—from emotions, physicality, and most importantly…Auris sensitivity.”

That did sound like a step in the right direction—if Iris wanted to drink these things for the rest of her life. It was a temporary solution rather than a permanent one.

Making her thoughts known, Aerowyn held up a finger, “I have come up with a theory.”

“Let’s hear it.” Iris rolled her eyes, preparing for inane blabbering about a theory that had probably been thought of before.

“You explained what you saw when you used your Trait to look at these channels running through our bodies, correct?”

She nodded.

“From what you described, your channels are comparatively thin, yes?”

Once again Iris motioned for him to go on.

“What if we make those channels larger? Thicker so that they more closely line up with ours?”

“And this…Mother’s Milk is going to do that for me?” There was no way the little vial she was holding was going to miraculously remedy her lack of sensitivity. She was willing to try, of course, but it was still a long shot.

“Perhaps it will, perhaps you may be required to assist in that endeavor.”

“And I’m assuming there’s a catch?” There had to be. Nothing in reality was free, especially not for an orphan like her. As it turned out, she was correct.

“Perceptive as always,” he commended, “there is a catch, as you put it. They heighten every sense, even the malicious ones. This is primarily a concern when it comes to your emotions. It is recommended for the recipient to be in the right state of mind. Anger will become a fury so intense it shall rob the mind of all thoughts. Sadness turns into a despair so deep even Rynor’s light shall not pierce its depths. Guilt transforms into self loathing so harsh…well let’s just say some have not been able to come back from that.”

Iris tried to work her gaping mouth as she sat down on one of the chairs. No words came as those thoughts ran through her head. She felt like emotions were difficult to deal with enough!

Aerowyn sat down in the adjacent chair, leaning towards her.

“Listen to me, Iris. If you would rather not try this, I will support you. At the same time, I will say I’d be sorely disappointed. But if that is your choice, so be it.”

If anything, Iris was certainly appreciative of how caring Aerowyn was, barring his mad devotion to completing such a lofty goal.

Questions fluttered through her mind as she thought it over. Could she do it? There was the off chance her channels could be thickened, possibly giving her the ability to finally wield Auris. Simultaneously, what if it didn’t work? She would have to deal with wildly fluctuating emotions, some of which could tear her apart from the inside. Her time training with the bow had certainly improved her confidence. It wasn’t as though she’d be able to hit a moving target even at close range, but the improvement was still there. Perhaps that would be enough? Add on the shitty instructions Colin had given her in sparring with a blade, and now she wouldn’t be totally defenseless.

Then there was her Trait.

If the liquid inside the vials did work, Iris could obtain a sense others were blessed to have. Like allowing a cripple to walk, or the deaf to hear. With the ability to see the swirling energy, her Auris manipulation could grow by leaps and bounds.

Her thought process pulled her back to the conversation she had with Walter.

What did she want?

Iris wanted to protect those dear to her. She wanted to grow as a person and explore parts unknown. Besides Tar and Elder Varron, and now Aerowyn, Walter, and Colin—maybe not Colin if he was going to continue to be a pain in the ass—there was no part of this damned city she considered being attached to. Could she travel the Kingdom? What lay beyond the Kingdom? Would she be able to cross the vast ocean and find other lands yet to be explored?

All of these considerations firmed the choice she knew was right from the beginning, all doubts now crushed.

“I’ll do it.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a tiny hidden part of her psyche attempted to rear its head as if to voice its doubts, but she squashed the unruly bug of hesitation. The choice had been made, and Iris wasn’t going to back down.

“That is wonderful to hear, Iris. Before we go through with this, however, I must emphasize how important it is for you to be of a steady mindset.”

She nodded, not out of assurance but out of agreement.

“Let’s do this somewhere more suitable. Mother’s grace you succeed, I don’t want you to be sitting in a dining room.” He said, helping her up and leading her out into the courtyard where she sat down in the center.

Aerowyn resumed, “While you’re under the effects of the potion, your mind needs to be set on one task and one task alone. See if the brew is automatically affecting your channels, if not, then you need to take matters into your own hands—metaphorically, I mean. It might be a surreal experience, feeling Auris for the first time. I can’t begin to imagine what that will be like for you. However, you may revel in that feeling if you’re successful, not during the attempt. Understand?”

Iris nodded.

“Auris works through intent and feeling. Just sensing it won’t be enough. You’ll have an advantage if you utilize your Trait, but you must feed it intent. Understand?”

Another nod.

“Excellent. I’ll be right here with you the whole time. Calm your mind, and when you’re ready, drink up.”

Taking one last look at the vial in her hand, Iris laid back and closed her eyes. Her goal was to empty her mind and focus only on the task at hand.

Emptying her mind was harder than she thought. The more she allowed her thoughts to roam, the more jumbled and quicker they became. Thoughts of Tar and their adventures diving through the Reaches flashed across her mindscape. It was interrupted by a memory of Elder Varron giving her the bread the last time she’d seen him, his smile warmer than the light she could feel upon her skin. She felt like she was reliving every happy moment, exciting memory, and dangerous situation. Each unbidden recollection quickened her breathing, only hastening the thoughts that bounced around her subconscious.

This wouldn’t do.

Iris ignored the disarray of thoughts and memories, anchoring her attention only on the sound of her breathing. The rise and fall of her chest was a soothing balm of motion. The repetition allowed her perception to wander towards the feeling of the soil sending its crisp temperature through her clothes and into her back. She ran her empty hand through the grass, the malleable blades caressing her fingers and sending a tingle up her arm.

It was time.

Sitting up slightly, she threw back the liquid from the vial and resumed her position on the ground.

At first, there was nothing. No part of Iris felt any different than before. She wondered if perhaps the potion—

No thoughts, only breathing.

A few breaths later, it began.

Starting near her stomach, a blended sensation of hot and cold spread throughout her. It reached her shoulders and traveled down her arms and hands, while also diffusing uninterrupted down her legs and feet. When it reached the crown of her head, marking the full distribution of the feeling in her figure, a sound similar to a church bell vibrated her down to the bones.

What was once crisp soil became a pillow of frigidity, the light warming her skin a blaze of comfort. Iris opened her eyes and all but thought her Trait had activated on its own. Colors of the sky and trees and buildings melded together in a symphony of sound while remaining distinctly separate…

Then she felt it.

Not in the way she felt the ground beneath her. Nor in the way the sun graced her skin.

It was…new.

Although faint, Iris could tell some new branch of connectedness had finally established itself to her. The energy in the air blew its breath upon her skin, some of it soaking unfettered through her skin.

Her sight grew blurry. Uninvited tears flowed down her face and onto the ground below. She was so enraptured by its magnificence, she almost forgot the reason she was doing this.

Iris sat up and focused enough to activate her Trait. Colors grew more vivid as Auris revealed itself to her sight. Her attention turned to the Auris being absorbed by her body. The channels within had thickened by a good margin. Because of that, there was more room for Auris to condense, and her channels sucked up the energy like a dehydrated beggar.

As she watched, the channels were ever so slowly thinning, the effect of the vial no doubt wearing off.

Iris knew she had to be quick about it.

Thank the Mother she had her Trait to help.

Or, thank the kind man she’d decapitated to get it…

The sound of the head rolling across the floor. The feeling of his still warm lifeblood merrily embracing her. The thought of the family wondering where their father had gone.

The weight of her sin wormed into her like a tidal wave of unstoppable emotion. On the high of the vial, its effects were multiplied a hundred fold. Why had she done that to him? She should have refused what the King had demanded of her. Iris was worse than scum. This world didn’t deserve her stain of existence. Every breath she took was one someone more deserving should be inhaling. A waste of life is what she was.

In a daze and with tears still flowing, Iris stood up and walked towards the weapon rack.

“Where are you going, Iris?”

The voice was a whisper, yet so loud it strived to drown out all other meaning.

Why would someone be talking to her? Her existence was nothing but sin and regret. There was no way someone had deigned her with their attention.

So she ignored it.

Iris reached the weapon rack and picked up the sword she normally trained with.

She unsheathed it and saw her crying reflection in the polished blade for the barest of moments. How dare she cry when she’d done something so horrible to someone so powerless?

Reversing her grip, Iris held her arms out with the handle facing the ground. There was no hesitation as she fell onto the blade.

“Iris, no!” Aerowyn screamed, lost on deaf ears.

In the dim acceptance of death, a boon of lighting broke through Iris’ being. Her momentum halted as a blunt object impacted her stomach. She looked down to see a hand between her and the blade, blood flowing down its edge from the hand supporting her.

Iris remained stupefied as she was thrown onto her back, blade forgotten.

Vision still hindered by the tears, Iris looked up at Colin’s enraged face. He turned and blurred away, disappearing from sight, faint arcs of charged Auris formed into electricity arcing through where he just was.

Not a heartbeat later, Aerowyn appeared over Iris. His face was creased with worry.

The effects of the potion were wearing off, but the guilt remained with her.

She’d killed a man. Not in self defense, either. She was a murderer.

Now she’d almost killed herself because of that.

Sobs echoed around the courtyard. The intensity between the guilt and shame whittled away at her sanity.

Iris curled up into a ball as tight as her meager body would allow. The bottled up memory of the execution replayed over and over while she rode the wave of torment and remorse.

Even after the tears refused to come, she cried. Iris didn’t stop even when mucus exited her nose, when her throat was scraped raw from her mewling, or when she descended into a quivering puddle of sorrow.

Aerowyn stayed with her the entire time, rubbing her back softly while making calming noises; and Iris continued as she mourned for the man who died so she may be free.