Chapter 36. Shadows of the past
The lessons with Quinn that day were different. The tension from the night's skirmish and the morning's scene in the cafeteria hung in the air like the smell of a thunderstorm. Quinn was focused, even too much. Her every move was well—honed, her every glance measured. She wasn't just doing exercises. She was analyzing. She was looking for a weakness in me, a clue.
We practiced disguising our presence. I forced her to move around the room, merging with the shadows, suppressing even the sound of her breathing. She was good. Very good. But there was still a certain tension in her movements, a tightness—a desire to control every muscle instead of letting go of her body.
"You're trying to become invisible," I said, stopping her at the far mannequin. — You need to become part of the background. A shadow that the brain itself refuses to notice.
"How do you do that?" She exhaled, wiping the sweat from her forehead. She sounded not only annoyed, but also genuinely curious. "You don't have an aura that needs to be suppressed. You're... just an emptiness.
It was a dangerous question. Too direct. "I am the void," I replied, looking somewhere through it. — I have nothing to hide. Because I have nothing to lose.
She was looking at me, and I could see her thoughts spinning in her head. She tried to try this concept on herself — a life without attachments, without fear of loss. And she couldn't.
"That's impossible," she finally said. — Everyone has something to lose.
"So everyone has a weakness,— I retorted. "The art is to make her your strength. Or... so that no one finds out about her.
I saw her swallow. My words involuntarily led her thoughts to Ragnar, to his nocturnal secret, to his rage born of vulnerability.
"Enough theory,— she abruptly changed the subject. "Show me something real." Not running in circles or stalking dust. Show me how you... disappear.
Challenge. Clean water. I nodded slowly. - OK. Look.
I didn't make any sudden movements. I just... stopped being interesting. My breathing slowed down and became so shallow that it was almost impossible to catch it. His gaze faded, became unfocused, directed at nothing. His muscles relaxed, and his posture became careless, almost unsteady. I wasn't trying to blend in with the shadow—I became it. Boring, insignificant, and not worthy of attention.
I saw how Quinn's eyes first rested on me, full of concentration, and then... began to lose focus. Her gaze slid over me, lingered for a second, and shifted to the mannequin behind me, to the wall, to her own hands. She blinked, as if trying to shake off a dream, and looked back at the place where I was standing. But now her gaze was blank. She was looking right at me and didn't see me.
"Where are you?" Her voice sounded louder than necessary, betraying a slight panic.
I took a step forward. Silent. She didn't react. "Right here," I whispered in her ear.
She shuddered so much that she jumped on the spot, and jumped back, throwing up her arms in a defensive stance. Her eyes were wide open, and there was pure, unfiltered shock in them.
—How...— she gasped. "I was looking right at you!"
"No,— I corrected. "You looked right through me." Your brain decided that I was an unimportant detail, and just... filtered me out. So as not to overload.
She was silent, digesting it. Her initial shock was replaced by a burning, insatiable interest. "Teach me,— she demanded. "Teach me how to do this."
"You can't teach that,— I said. — You can only learn this. Going through something that erases everything about you that makes you... noticeable.
I turned to leave, giving her time to process. —Wait,— her voice stopped me. "You... you weren't always like this." Empty. Yes?
I froze. The question was dangerous again. Too personal. "Everyone has a past, Quinn,— I said without turning around. "For some, it's just... darker."
"What happened to you?" She didn't back down. I could hear her taking a step forward. "Why don't you use your Will?" Why are you hiding here with this girl? Who are you really?
I turned around slowly. Her face was serious, and her scarlet eyes were burning not just with curiosity, but with a need to understand. She sensed that there was something big behind my mask of emptiness. Something that might explain me.
And that's when I realized that I could use it. Her curiosity. Her need for answers.
"Do you want to know?" My words came out softly, almost in a whisper. "Then find the answer yourself." You are the heir of the Crimson Ones. You have access to archives, to chronicles. Search. Look for mentions of those who, like me, came from nowhere. About those who do not use their Will, but are capable of more. About the Rifts that open not only in space, but also... in time.
I saw her eyes light up. I threw her a bait that was much more interesting than the Genesis map. I directed her curiosity into a safe channel for me—into the past, into the legends.
— And in the meantime... — I took a step towards her, and she froze, — while you are looking for answers to my riddles, do not forget to look for them to your own. Why are you so afraid of silence? What's behind your rage? Who do you want to become... and who do they want you to be?
I turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the middle of the room, confused, puzzled, and determined to get to the bottom of it.
I went out into the hallway, and my own breathing was a little short. The game was getting more dangerous. I wasn't just manipulating her. I was opening doors to her own mind. And I wasn't sure I could control what she would find there.
But there was no other way. To survive among the wolves, it was necessary to become the most cunning of them. Even if it meant playing with the most dangerous fire—the human soul.