“You were at Salietrex with them.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“I was the reason we were there at all. An outing hastened by a stir-crazy boy and his ever-indulgent friend, and accompanied by said friend’s even more indulgent mother.”
I touched his shoulder. Christian and I had been out the night of his death because of his own shenanigans, but how many times had I cursed myself for not swaying him to stay inside? Wondered if I had been the one to have put us into the hunters’ path that night…? It didn’t bare thinking about.
“We were barely there an hour when terrorists took the city protections down.”
“One of the ferals Verisetti was using was turning the people of the city against each other. Sashia had a lovely power. A softer mind magic. One that encouraged others to be better. In a less kind soul, such power could be a threat, but she was one of the kindest, softest souls I’ve ever met. People wanted to please her because they felt better about themselves and the world around them. Extremely empathetic—and the feral grabbed onto her right away. Flipped her mentally before we even knew what was going on. I grabbed Constantine who was trying to get to her.”
His head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. “I've gone over that day with a fine-toothed mental comb. The number of small things that would have made a difference. Things I should have seen.”
“If I had used my powers, I could have absorbed the powers of the mage that Verisetti was using to turn the people of the city into murderers, and maybe the other mage who was shielding them both.” He turned the ball of magic over in his hand. “But instead I shielded Constantine—we had long ago combined our shields—when Verisetti turned his attention to us.”
The ball moved in an overly-controlled circle over the planes of his chest. “He snapped her out of the mind control, for just a moment, and she used her last bit of free magic to convince Verisetti’s feral to flip us through the only exit, to safety. We never saw her again—outside of the feeds of the event, which they played repeatedly in the kind of detail that I'm certain Constantine has never forgotten.”
I shuddered, thinking of how I would have reacted if I had seen the replay of my brother's murder. It wasn't pretty, and I'm glad I didn't have those memories.
“She saved you. Both of you. Instead of herself.”
“Yes. Of course, she did.” He closed his eyes. “She would have done nothing else.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“There is no rationality on anyone’s part when it comes to Sashia’s death,” he said quietly. “And I am not without blame. In the instant that I could have made a choice, the only thing I could hear was what had been drilled into me from birth—that I could never show my powers.”
“Constantine knows.” About his powers, there was no doubt.
“Yes.”
I thought about it—about their age at the time of the Salietrex Massacre. Axer had turned twenty in April, and it was hard to think of him as anything other than solid and mature—quite frankly he was larger than life in a way that was almost unreal—but at thirteen, and in a moment of chaos?
“What happened after?”
His face twisted. “Stuart was already there—he’d felt his own connection with his wife snap—and he took Constantine. With Sashia’s death, Stuart Leandred lost the thread that had connected him to the light, but we didn’t know that in the moment. Several terrible things happened at the same time, and... If one of those events alone had not happened—things might be different. But they weren't, and they aren't.” He rubbed absently at his chest, as if chasing a phantom pain. “Constantine broke everything but the most fundamental bonds between us before the week was out.”
It was rare that I ever saw Axer as anything other than godlike—he always seemed above mortal problems and emotions. But the vulnerability that flashed through his eyes said something else. A hurt at thirteen that had scarred them both.
“But you ended up together at Excelsine.”
He slowly slid the ball around his other palm. “Bonds, especially early ones when magic is forming in a mage, are hard to break, and so it was a less than happy day—though not an unanticipated one—when we ended up in a room together the very first day of school. But it was almost like meeting a mirrored version of the boy I’d known. He was focused. Manipulative. Hardened.”
“He was already planning to kill Raphael.”
“Yes,” he said simply. He looked at me. “And if he could have survived it, me too. The bonds you have now will be very difficult for you to rid yourself of.”
I touched them. I had no desire to get rid of any of my bonds unless I became a danger to the others.
He looked back skyward. “Luckily, you have enough power to secure them both ways, otherwise you'd be strongly open to being taken advantage of. It's one of the problems ferals encounter, and the reason why before Stavros started making them disappear, opposing forces tried to grab them early. First bonds, and strong bonds, never truly die.”
I ran my fingers over my own bonds. I saw Axer’s eyes drop down to the ones connecting us, as if he could feel my fingers upon them. His eyes shifted to the middle of his chest, then he looked back up at the sky.
“I am kept awake at night by the choices of the past,” he said. “The ones that have driven me to who I now am. I promised myself that I’d never let another be destroyed who could be saved—that I’d anticipate events before they happened so that promises sworn to in infancy could be kept intact. To hide a single ability so that I could walk among the public, so I could save all those who couldn’t save themselves. That is a test I take every time I go out.”
The magic in his hand flashed teal and sapphire. “And I made certain never to make a connection with those saved. Not until a First Layer girl tried so hard to save her brother. Giving you my magic was the easiest choice I’ve made. And now… Perhaps it is time for a revolution.” He pushed the magic into the ground and flowers bloomed in long undulating paths toward the walls.
I looked at Constantine, dark circles underlining his closed lids even in his boneless sprawl. “He never told anyone. About your abilities.” He couldn’t have, or else Axer’s powers wouldn’t just be speculation. When Constantine wanted it to be, as the case with Idami Senturten showed, his vengeance was thorough.
Axer didn't reply for a long time. “No.” He looked at the flowers and they flashed violet. “He never has.”
“Just like you’ve protected his abilities, an even more closely guarded secret, even though you can’t stand him.”
Secret keeping was less surprising on Axer’s end—whatever their split had entailed, it had resulted in one with obsessively tight control and a savior complex, and the other with highly destructive tendencies. The former traits were not ones that lent themselves to flappy jaws, but still, maybe if pointed out...
“Why is that, do you think?” I asked gently.
“Goodnight, Ren.”