Chapter 40 - Chapter 40: Fractured Pt 1

Nyxara

🕯️Content warning: "Emotional abuse (referenced), panic/anxiety symptoms"

Walking off the teleportation pad, I follow the ball of light along the exterior corridor of a pale yellow building. Looking around, I quickly realize I'm at the building I saw from the training fields. It is a lot bigger than it seemed from afar. Also, the area is very quiet. I don't know what this building is for, but I expected more people around.

 I eventually cross paths with three people, two dressed in gi robes and one dressed as a guard, who stepped to the side and bowed until I was around the corner. I overheard one of them mutter that my aura had changed and I seemed more stable than before I went away on my most recent trip. Another replied that I looked very much like a proper Ajei heir in energy and stride—mysteriously powerful. 

The third added that if I ascend to Veil tier, I'll probably get cleared to join a squad on missions for cultivation enrichment. Even though I stopped to eavesdrop they continued walking so the conversation was quickly beyond my hearing.

 While I was aware of my enclave having a private militia, I was not aware it was based on our complex grounds. I wouldn't say this bothers me but it does add an interesting aspect to our political power. Continuing on my way, I caught sight of multiple groups inside the building and out in the fields going through training. Everything I saw emphasized that the militia played a bigger role in the enclave than I previously anticipated.

Soon, I was guided to another sector that had a less military vibe. The courtyard of this sector instantly reminded me of Sanctum Ajei clinic. The offices and spaces opened to my gaze had a more personal and less neutral feel to them than the clinic I was at. Also, the biggest difference is the bold color scheme and well-used-looking furniture. Very well used, like it was better to just let things be a little battered than constantly try to keep it in its best condition. 

Which makes sense, if this is as I suspect is a military facility.Soon, my guide blinked three times in front of a beautifully carved wooden door before disappearing. As I took in my surroundings again, I realized I had gotten lost in my head, not paying attention to where I was going. I run my fingers along the wall, anchoring myself in the moment, refusing to feed the irrational frustration clawing at me.

 Fuck, why does it feel like my frustration is growing by the second? I know they warned that my emotions could spiral at random because of the stress I might feel during this home recovery, but I was not expecting my emotions to hulk out the first day.

Realizing I need to do a breathing exercise to calm down, I shoot Aspen a quick text that I'm just outside the door, just needing a moment. Then I take a seat on the backed bench across the corridor. I inhale. I exhale. I inhale. I exhale. The stone bench was cold against the back of my legs, grounding and irritating at the same time. My nails dug into my palms as I forced myself to count breaths, fighting the rising heat crawling under my skin.

In the middle of a cycle, Aspen sends back an okay and a link to the therapy app he mentioned he would be introducing today. Opening the app, my profile is all set up, and I can document my emotional state. After inputting how I feel right now, the next question is what triggered my mood swing? 

I breathe through the wave of frustration that comes then decide to just be honest. Aspen won't look at anything I input unless he has to or I ask him to do so.

-I hate needing directions to get around — like a guest in my own home.-

The next question asks what could I do to help me not feel so frustrated. I think on it for a while before inputting my answer.

-I want someone to give me a full tour of the premises this weekend. That would help me at least feel like I'm not a guest.-

The app gives me a smiley face with a thumbs up. It also asks me if I wish to share this moment with my therapist, who happens to be Aspen. I consent since this will make my request slightly less embarrassing than outright asking. 

I survey the area around Aspen's therapy room one more time, feeling better now that my emotions are more stable. I push open the door, and it feels like stepping into a tranquil sanctuary—soft gray walls etched with faint blue sigils, a shallow indoor spring bubbling along one side, and a cluster of cushions beneath a half-circle skylight.

I noticed a shelf for shoes to my right; I removed my boots and socks, then looked around for Aspen. "Welcome, Moonbeam. Close the door and come have a seat," his voice came from around a corner. The door whispered shut behind me as I took a more thorough look around at the rather large therapy room. It had no sharp edges; everything had a dreamy quality to it. I breathed in the scent of incense, finding I liked the blend enough that I would be asking for my own supply. 

I somehow ended up standing under the skylight, enjoying the experience of feeling surrounded by the diffused light coming through the enchanted glass like twinkling starlight. A warm gaze brought me out of my magical moment. Now that I was further in the room, I could see Aspen standing on a patio, picking up a yoga mat. When he came back inside, he placed the mat against the wall. With the sliding doors left open, cool morning breeze drifted in mingling with the scent of incense. 

As I immersed further into the tranquility of the space, Aspen wordlessly guided me to a low table in the center of the room. On the table was a set of polished stones, a watercolor tray, a pen, and a single sheet of paper.

Intrigued, I wondered how any of those things connected. This isn't going to be like any therapy I was expecting. I'm a little excited to see what my brother will have me doing with those items. I sit down on a floor cushion at the table, and Aspen sits down across from me. His arms rest on the table,and his eyes come to rest on me with a happy light in them. His ruby gaze was probing but gentle. "So how is your morning going so far?" he asked, voice warm. 

"It's going…not at all how I expected," I admit honestly, a smile tugging at my lips. I take a deep breath of the lavender and crushed cedarwood incense, allowing my body to relax further. My eyes close for a moment as I think on all I've done this morning so far. It was a bit of a roller coaster, but I think I'm doing okay. I open my eyes with a smile. Aspen gives me a nod, acknowledging and attentive. 

No pressure in his expression. No clipped expectations. Just space.

Yet like being pulled from warm waters then pushed backwards into an icy pool, my brain doesn't believe in his intention. Not really. They did the same. Except it was an act. The parody of no pressure, no expectations, plenty of space to be. It was a lie they poured down my throat every time I was less than perfect. Now, tense my carefully cultivated calm splinters.

A thought slips in sideways: He's asking because he wants to know if I've remembered anything. He wants to know if all this time, money, and energy are worth the investment.I have to do better. I'm not perfect yet, but I will be. I wouldn't be able to handle them being disappointed in me. I fold my hands together tightly in my lap. Inhale. Exhale. I just had an episode. I can't be having another one.

They were already disappointed and hurt by Grey. I can't do the same to them. I have to be better. I have to be the best. I have to be the best. 

"Sorry," I say before I even know what I'm apologizing for. "That came out wrong. I—uh. My morning's been okay." Aspen doesn't move. He doesn't rush in to say anything. He's just patient and kind. I appreciate that more than I can say. 

My calm continues to splinter. My hands twitch. The incense that had once smelled like comfort now crawled down my throat like smoke, thick and suffocating. My skin buzzed as though it no longer fit right, my body too tight for me to breathe inside of it.

Needing fresh air, I stumble my way out onto the patio. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I still feel like I'm choking even as my mind flips, throwing out conflicting thoughts. It's not his fault. He just asked me how my morning was going. He was just breaking the ice. He isn't judging me. Nonetheless I can't stop feeling hot under my skin—like I'm being evaluated, tested, graded.