Book One – Chapter 6

Even after he eventually regained himself, the something never left. It had thrived again with the feathers. And even when Yves did not use them for months, Midnight felt it. It lingered. And she believed that it had infested the bond between the body and the voice and the words. It had infested the bond she shared with the whole that was her wizard.

Because now, when his body had tried to tell her “I w̤anͭ̏̂t ṱ̶ò touͬcḧ́̏ y̖͐ͥo̪̱u aͦ͒nd̠̋͜ p̴̘rͦ͑̚e̡s̹͌s m̴ͣỹ͙̺ f͙͞͝a̷cé ag̾a̓in̘s͐t̎ͫ͡ ýo͓̕urs̼͝ b͇͂eͪc̵̴aus̢͒͝e̬_̆ ḯ̗͍t̨ g͊iv̀es̟ m̗̌e c̹ǫ̺m͚f̥̖o̘r͐t̖̰͂,” the something had frozen his body. And when his voice had tried to explain “I rẹ͖ͣc̅̓og̻n͟is̟̺ͤȇ̥͞ t̵̻͛h̯̝ͣa̶t thͅi̢s̄͞ i̔s̫ a͖͢n e͒ͥnͪe͌mͩy͂ m̹o̴͖͖r̅e_ p̵͡͡o̲̟w̖͕̖e̟r͔̀̕f̜̞̎u̪l̋ t͆h̕a̟͝n̡̥ I̔ a͈͐̿m̍,̥͗,” the something had distorted and fractured the voice into heavy breathing that had been nothing but fear and shame and weakness and defeat. It had emerged in its full strength. It had been in his eyes, covering what was Yves like the veil of Teharun covered the world to make darkness. It had called out to Midnight, beckoning, speaking her name, demanding recognition and acceptance that she refused to give it. She had refused to look at it.

Still, when his body had said “i will die,” and his voice had said “I͎ w̮an̼̐t͌ y̶̓̕o͡u͆ to̘ͤ̎ s̍ta̧͌̊yͧ̑͡ wit̆h̗ m̨͍e͐͊ b͓e͔͇͘cau̞̩sͦ̃e̮͐́ I̷ am̡̛ mͦ͑͗o̧r͚ͯ̿e̙͌ a̶̧͙frai̽ͯͤd̻̾ w̨͕̍iͥ̍ͅt͇̻́h̭̏͗ou͈̽̿t͍ y͔oͫu͐̈́ͮ,̼̐̓ bͧ͡u̞̕t̐ͤ I ȁm̟͡ al̈́ͩ͊s͗́o af̡rͪā̏ͦi͖d͊̆ fͣor͍̀ yo̱͝u,” and the words had said “I WANT YOU TO GO,” Midnight had left. She had understood that not the demand to go and leave him, but the command for her to go ahead had been his final decision. In that instance, she had understood that the part that was the words had taken over the broken whole to make a decision without the body and the voice, and without the something. A decision borne from will and necessity to show pride and fearlessness and the conviction to fight with all he had.