"Stephen, this is going to sound crazy, but can you follow my lead?"
"Of course not, what makes you think I'd go with any crazy plan you decide to come up with?"
Smiling from ear to ear, Torren approached Stephen, gave him a ridiculous smile and two heavy pats on his shoulders before turned towards Julien "You aren't going to believe me but that's exactly what I was hoping for" Ripping off a piece of fabric from his shirt, using it to tie his hair back.
"I know water and fire don't usually mix, but right now, I'm counting on you to find the balance." Torren paused for a moment before he rushed the elder.
Julien watched Torren approach, stuffing the bells into his left pocket, as he clenched his right arm.
In his wake, Torren conjured a brass colored chain, spooling out from behind him at terrifying speeds, it slammed into Julien who easily swatted away the attempt.
"Oh you have a SoulArm, how quaint." Julien teased, freeing his arm for another blow when he was yanked back in his attempt. Turning in confusion to his arm, he watched as the length of the chain snaked around and around his arm, to bind his chest.
Now trying to rip them off, Torren tried to tackle Julien's incredible frame only to barely nudge him.
"Stephen! Do something!"
"Was that the sig, are you serious…what am I supposed to do with that—"
"Act, just act damn it!" Torren grunted as he dug his feet into the dirt, slowly forcing Julien back, even to his surprise.
But after resolving himself, let out an aggressive gruff before ripping the chains off and grabbing Torren by his neck, without missing a step, he lurched back before throwing him towards the Sword Oak Forest, high above the treeline.
"Torren!" Stephen yelled after seeing him take flight.
"Don't…worry…about…me…just…act" Pulling himself free from the pressure of his sudden acceleration, Torren gave a ridiculous smile towards Stephen.
"Well well, Steph, what do you have 'planned', huh?" Julien rolled his shoulders to ease the tension from the chains.
"..."
"Oh, quiet are we?"
"Shit…Of all the people to listen to, it had to be that idiot" Stephen cursed, as he suddenly started walking towards him. Quiet and unmoved by his grandfather's provocations she just started walking.
When he arrives just a foot away from his grandfather, Stephen lunges at him, struggling to push him back while Julien looks at him in confusion. A moment of pity before a deep sigh followed a swift punch into Stephen's chest.
Ding!
Julien's fist crumpled against some resistance, pulling back and soothing his bleeding knuckles….before his eyes widened and he tried another blow against Stephen, but again
Ding!
Stephen remained unmoved, still trying to tackle his grandfather. Thudding clangs erupted from the space with each strike till he was finally able to knock Stephen back. As he did, Julien found himself falling to his knees.
"What!" Keeping himself from falling over by resting against a knee, his gaze fell upon the still standing Stephen.
"I'd tell you how I did it, but I'm sure the idiot would want that honor." Kicking off in a flash, it took only a moment for Stephen to land a strike on his grandfather's chest, using the force of his acceleration to land a spin kick against his head, knocking him into a nearby Sword Oak, splitting the tree.
Stephen, feeling a chill, turned his gaze upwards, only to catch the growing cries echoing through the sky, before a thunderous boom followed a crash right beside him. From the crater that formed, Torren crawled off, wheezing and huffing.
"Where…is…he?" he asked, while struggling to his feet, watching Stephen point towards the felled tree in front of them.
"Hey Stephen…what's going on with you?" Torren ignored the tree and instead focused on Stephen's hand, wrapping a steamy cloud of mist. Following his arm to his body and even his face, the same steady billow of steam hissing out of him, forming a growing haze around his body.
"Are you okay?"
"Lets focus on dealing with him first."
"Oh?"
"Yes, now Sujing. Follow my lead." Launching away with a shockwave in his wake, Torren took a moment to make sense of what he saw, before quickly following after him.
While the tree was knocked over, dense and knotted roots hung like the bars of a menacing gate, Julien took only a moment to right him, again trying to loosen the tension in his old bones to no avail, before he could react, Stephen was already atop him.
Aiming skyward to meet him with his fist, his arm was again bound and retched away, allowing Stephent o descend with a vicious axe kick, splitting the earth in front of Julein, while he looked at Torren in the distance and then Stephen before him, who just missed him with the quick step he took to avoid the blow.
"All right!" Julien called with great joy, throwing himself at Stephen and tackling him away with his large build. Stephen took flight for some distance before he could recover, running past Torren and tapping his shoulder. He stopped just shy of the old man, was ready to greet him with a violent kick that missed, kicking up a hectic gust of wind and blinding him for a moment…
Only for Torren to emerge from the swirl of dust covering his vision, aiming below, Torren slipping between his legs as his magical chain spawned and wrapped itself around his neck, throwing him off balance.
Stephen quickly followed, reaching Julien in his struggle, he aimed for his wide opening but the old man moved with impressive flexibility, allowing Torren to pull him away , avoiding Stephen's strike, while pinning Torren down with a single arm.
"Come on, Steph…" Steadying himself with his other freed arm to strike Stephen down, after launching his attack, he found no quarry, passing where Stephen once was, looking down, he saw the same brass chain anchored to Stephen's body, pulling him towards the pinned Torren.
"Haha–" The half-hearted laugh left the old man's lips the moment Stephen buried his fist in his chest, the force of his blow rocked the ground beneath them, throwing all three them into the dirt,
"Ahhh" The pile of limbs struggled about till a tired arm snacked out of the mess, revealing the tolling bells in hand, "I got them…Stephen…I got them."
"Hahahaha" Julien started laughing as he got up, standing with the weight of all three of them till the young boys fell off him.
"You boys have made me proud." He started clapping. "Well done. You've managed to get by on my training faster than I would have predicted. So, who wants ice-cream…anyone?" Focusing on the pair of them as they laid in the dirt, exhausted and fast asleep.
When Stephen finally woke, the first thing he noticed was the weight of his own body.
Not pain exactly, though there was plenty of that too, but a heaviness that seemed to have settled into his bones, pressing him further into the mattress as though the bed itself had grown hands and decided that he would not be leaving it anytime soon.
His eyes slowly opened to the familiar ceiling of his room, the wooden beams overhead dimmed by the soft afternoon light slipping through the curtains. The air smelled faintly of mint balm and warm linen, along with the lingering trace of rain that had begun to gather somewhere beyond the windows.
For a moment, Stephen simply stared.
Then he tried to move.
A violent ache rolled through his chest, then down his arms, and he immediately regretted the decision.
"Don't."
The voice was soft, though firm enough that Stephen found himself stilling before he had even fully registered the command.
Turning his gaze to the side, he found Annie seated at his bedside, a small book resting open in her lap, though from the way her eyes were fixed on him, it was clear she had not been reading for some time.
Her expression eased the moment his gaze found hers.
"You're awake," she said, her smile warming with relief.
Stephen blinked, then let out a shallow breath.
"That seems to be the case."
Annie's smile widened slightly.
"Good afternoon, young master."
"Afternoon?" he muttered, the word coming out raspier than he intended.
"Yes. You slept through most of the day."
Stephen frowned, trying to turn his head further, only for another sting to remind him that his body had not forgiven him.
"Where's grandfather?" he asked, pausing for a moment before adding, "And where's Suj—"
The word caught in his throat.
He clicked his tongue.
"Where's Torren?"
Annie's eyes softened, though whether from noticing his correction or simply from the question itself, Stephen could not tell.
"Lord Julien was made to clean the backyard."
Stephen stared at her.
"What?"
"Lady Marielle was not particularly pleased when she saw what the three of you had done to the training grounds." Annie closed her book and set it aside. "She said if he had enough energy to throw children through trees, then he had enough energy to repair the damage himself."
Despite himself, Stephen let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
"That sounds like Nana."
"Torren helped him for a while," Annie continued. "Though that was some time ago. They left not long after you were brought here."
Stephen's brows pulled together.
"He left?"
"Yes."
Stephen shifted again, this time pushing through the ache as he forced himself upright. Annie moved to help him, but he lifted a hand before she could.
"I'm fine."
"You are not."
"I'm awake."
"That is not the same thing."
Stephen ignored her, though the effort it took to sit up properly nearly proved her point for her.
His body still steamed faintly beneath his skin, not in the literal sense, not anymore, but he could feel the strain his magic had carved through him. The reckless precision. The forced acceleration. The way he had bent his own blood into something it should not have been forced to become.
Idiot.
He had known the risks.
He had known exactly what would happen if his control slipped for even a moment.
A ruptured vessel. A torn organ. A failed rhythm in the heart.
All for what? To land a single hit on an old man who had been smiling the entire time.
Stephen clenched his fist, feeling the dull tremble in his fingers.
Reckless. Stupid. Amateur.
"You're doing it again."
His gaze flicked back to Annie.
She looked at him with that same gentle smile, the kind that never pressed too hard yet somehow reached further than most scoldings.
"Doing what?"
"Punishing yourself before anyone else gets the chance."
Stephen looked away.
"I made a mistake."
"You won."
"That doesn't make it less stupid."
"No," Annie said softly. "But it does make it something you survived. Perhaps you can decide what to learn from it after you've eaten."
"I'm not hungry."
"You are always hungry after training."
"I'm not Torren."
"No," she said, her smile turning faintly amused. "You are not."
Stephen exhaled through his nose, then swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Annie stood immediately.
"Young master—"
"I said I'm fine."
"And I said you are not."
Stephen planted his feet on the floor. For a moment, the room tilted.
He steadied himself against the bedpost and cursed under his breath.
Annie did not say anything. That was somehow worse.
After a few seconds, Stephen lifted his head.
The rain scent was stronger now.
His eyes narrowed.
He let his magic move, not through his blood this time, but outward, reaching gently across the estate. The house was familiar enough that he could feel its rhythms with little effort. The faint warmth of the kitchen. The old pulse of the hearth. The distant pressure of his grandmother moving through the lower halls. Julien somewhere near the back grounds, grumbling as he worked.
But Torren was not there.
Stephen's frown deepened.
He reached further.
Past the house.
Past the training yard.
Past the old stone path leading down toward the grove.
Then he felt it.
A familiar flicker of magic, brass-warm beneath the rain.
Farther than he expected.
Too far.
Stephen stood.
Annie's expression shifted.
"You found him?"
"Old Family Ruins."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"In this weather?"
"Apparently."
"You should rest."
"I will."
"You are lying."
"I am postponing."
"Young master."
Stephen turned toward the wardrobe, pulling out the first coat he could reach.
"I'll be back before Nana realizes I'm gone."
"Lady Marielle always knows."
"Then I'll be back before she decides to make it my problem."
Annie sighed, but there was no real surprise in it.
Stephen moved toward the door, then stopped.
After a brief pause, he glanced back at her.
"Thank you."
Annie's face softened.
"For watching over me."
"You need not thank me for that."
"I know."
That was all he said before stepping out.
The rain had fully settled by the time Stephen reached the outer grounds, thin silver lines falling across the estate and gathering in the grass. The Ryokin stables stood to the east, half-covered by the slope of the hill and the woven branches of old sheltering trees.
The creature he chose was a broad-winged Rav'wyn, its dark eyes fixing on him with the quiet patience of something that had judged him and found him barely acceptable.
"Don't look at me like that," Stephen muttered, pulling himself into the saddle with more effort than he liked. "I've had a long day."
The Ryokin huffed.
"Just fly."
With a beat of its wings, they rose into the rain.
The estate fell away beneath him, rooftops and orchards blurring into grey-green shapes. Beyond them, the land stretched toward the old ruins of House Markholdz, where broken archways and moss-eaten pillars stood like the remains of a forgotten oath.
Stephen had not wanted to bring Torren there at the beginning of the holidays.
He had done so anyway.
At the time, he told himself it was because the road passed near enough that avoiding it would be more suspicious.
That had been a lie.
Now, as the Ryokin descended through the rain, Stephen found Torren beneath one of the old archways, seated with his knees drawn up and his back against the stone. The storm had thickened above the ruins, rain spilling over the cracked remains of the ancient structure, while the archway shielded him from the worst of it.
He did not look up when Stephen landed.
Stephen slid down from the saddle, boots sinking lightly into the wet earth.
For a moment, he simply watched him.
Torren's head was lowered. His hair had fallen loose around his face, damp from rain and clinging to his cheeks. The brass chain of his SoulArm was nowhere to be seen.
Stephen clicked his tongue.
"You know," he called, walking closer, "you don't need to go this far if you want to cry and lick your wounds."
Torren's shoulders stiffened.
Stephen stopped.
It was faint beneath the rain, but he heard it.
A sniffle.
Torren lifted his arm quickly, wiping his face with his sleeve before turning away.
Stephen's teasing expression disappeared.
"What's going on?"
"Don't worry about it," Torren said, his voice rough. "It has nothing to do with you."
Stephen stared at him.
"What?"
Torren pushed himself to his feet, though his eyes remained lowered.
"Just go back home, okay? I'm sure Annie is waiting for you, ready to warm your bed again."
Stephen blinked.
Then his face twisted.
"What are you on about, Sujing? Did grandfather hit you over the head too hard?"
In the next moment, Torren crossed the distance between them.
His hands seized Stephen by the front of his shirt, lifting him roughly by the collar until the fabric strained between them.
"That's not my name."
Stephen's eyes widened slightly.
Torren's grip trembled.
"Would it kill you to remember that? Even after everything, you can't do that much for me?"
His voice cracked.
Only then did Stephen truly see his face.
The glassiness in his eyes. The tears cutting through the rainwater on his cheeks. The frustration that had curdled into something older and uglier than simple anger.
For one breath, Stephen said nothing.
Then his hands closed around Torren's wrists.
With a sharp twist of his hips, he hooked his leg behind Torren's and threw him over, slamming him into the wet forest floor hard enough to send mud splashing up around them.
Torren grunted, but before he could recover, Stephen dropped his knee against his chest and pinned him there.
"What," Stephen asked, his voice low, "is wrong with you?"
Torren glared up at him, breathing hard.
"Why do you get to win?"
Stephen's brows drew together.
"What?"
"Why do you get to win even when I'm the one doing the work?" Torren snapped, the words tumbling out like something that had been rotting behind his teeth. "No one tells me that. No one says good job. No one is there to greet me with a kiss like you, pretty boy."
He grabbed a handful of mud and threw it into Stephen's face.
Stephen froze.
Mud slid down his cheek.
The rain tapped against the silence between them.
Torren's face twisted, as if even he had not meant to say it like that, but the damage had already been done.
Stephen slowly wiped the mud from one eye.
Then he said, flatly, "Just shut up."
Torren blinked.
"Huh?"
"Stop asking whether anyone looks up to you. Stop asking whether anyone sees what you can do, or whether anyone is fawning over you." Stephen's voice sharpened, though not with the same anger as before. "Just keep showing them why they should."
Torren stared at him.
"Actions over words, really? That's what you came all the way to say to me?"
"Yes," Stephen said. Then, after a pause, he stood and stepped back. "But it's actions and words."
Torren remained on the ground, rain falling over his face.
Stephen held out a hand.
"I didn't come to fight."
Torren looked at the hand for a long moment.
Then, reluctantly, he took it.
Stephen pulled him to his feet.
"Remember," Stephen said, his grip lingering around Torren's wrist for a moment longer than necessary, "I'm still here because of your actions and words."
Torren looked away.
"If you took a moment to step back and look, you'd notice that. How can you not see it?"
Torren said nothing.
Stephen's jaw tightened.
"Nana. Grandfather. Everyone at the Open Table. Even Annie." His voice softened, though only slightly. "If you stepped away from your pity party for just a moment, you'd see it all. How much each of them lights up when you walk into a room."
Torren's breathing shuddered.
"I can't do that," Stephen continued. "That's something only you can do."
The rain filled the silence.
Stephen glanced toward the old archway, then back at him.
"All I see is a version of yourself you can't let go of. But that isn't you. Not anymore. Not as long as I've known you."
Torren's tears continued to fall, no longer hidden by the storm. His lips moved, but whatever words tried to leave him broke apart before they could.
Stephen sighed.
"For someone so loud, you're terrible at listening."
Torren let out something between a laugh and a sob, then pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes.
Stephen looked at him for a while, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It's time you started taking yourself as seriously as the rest of us do."
Torren lowered his hand, his eyes red.
"I can't have you behind me," Stephen said. "The only way we move forward is if I've got you next to me. It's the only way I can push myself further."
Torren stared at him.
Stephen's fingers tightened slightly over his shoulder.
"I won't lose to you or anyone. And you can't either, Sujing." His mouth twitched faintly. "Not while I'm still around."
Torren swallowed.
"You still called me Sujing."
Stephen paused.
Then clicked his tongue.
"Don't ruin the moment."
"You ruined it first."
"You threw mud in my face."
"You slammed me into the ground."
"You grabbed me by the collar."
"You came here to annoy me."
"I came here because you disappeared."
Torren's expression crumpled slightly at that.
Stephen looked away, wiping more mud from his cheek with the back of his hand.
"Come on," he said, guiding him toward the shelter of the archway. "Before you catch a fever, Annie blames me."
Torren followed without protest.
The two of them sat beneath the old stone arch, watching the rain pour over the ruins of a family that had once taken up arms for honor, then laid them down when honor began to sound too much like obedience.
Neither spoke for some time.
The storm softened slowly, thunder rolling farther and farther away until the rain became a faint curtain between the broken pillars and the trees.
Stephen leaned back against the stone, his body reminding him with every breath that he should have listened to Annie.
Beside him, Torren's breathing evened out.
Stephen glanced down.
Torren had fallen asleep against his shoulder, face still damp, one hand loosely curled against the fabric of Stephen's sleeve as if he had refused to let go even after losing consciousness.
Stephen stared at him.
Then, very carefully, he exhaled.
"You've become quite the handful, Torren," he muttered.
A small, quiet smile touched his face.
"Just like him."