Chapter 7: What Lies Beneath
The morning came too fast, a pale gray light creeping through the curtains like it was apologizing for existing.
Briv had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, the darkness from his nightmare surged back, thick and suffocating, pressing against his skin like a living thing. He'd given up on sleep around dawn, lying instead in the half-dark, listening to the sounds of the house waking around him. Footsteps in the kitchen. The clatter of a pot. The low murmur of Chris's voice, talking to himself the way he always did when he was making breakfast.
By the time Briv dragged himself downstairs, his father had already set out two plates of eggs and bread, steam rising into the cold morning air.
"You look terrible," Chris said, not unkindly.
"Thanks. You really know how to make a person feel special."
"Eat. Niek's expecting us."
Briv sat down, picking at his eggs without much enthusiasm. His stomach was a knot of anxiety, twisting and tightening with every passing minute. He didn't know what he expected from this visit. He didn't know if he expected anything at all. All he knew was that the thought of sitting in front of a stranger, being asked questions he didn't want to answer, made him want to crawl back into bed and hide under the blanket forever.
But he'd promised. And his father had looked at him with something raw and vulnerable in his eyes, something Briv couldn't bring himself to disappoint.
So he ate. He drank the bitter tea his father pressed into his hands. He pulled on his boots and his jacket and followed Chris out the door into the cold morning light.
The walk to Niek's cabin took them through the heart of Seko, past the market square where vendors were already setting up their stalls, past the council hall with its imposing stone facade and its heavy oaken doors, past the rows of houses that leaned against each other like old friends. The town was waking up, and the streets were filling with people—farmers heading to their fields, merchants hauling their wares, children running and shouting and generally being a menace.
Briv kept his head down, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"You all right?" Chris asked, glancing over at him.
"Fine."
"Liar."
Briv snorted. "You taught me everything I know."
Chris smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. They walked the rest of the way in silence, the tension between them thick enough to cut.
Niek's cabin was tucked at the end of a narrow lane, almost hidden by the overgrown hedges that surrounded it. The building itself was small, barely more than a cottage, its white-washed walls stained with years of weather. But it was the crowd outside that stopped Briv in his tracks.
There were people everywhere. A woman with a crying baby, bouncing it in her arms. An old man with a cough that rattled deep in his chest, his face gray with exhaustion. A young couple huddled together on the step, the girl's leg wrapped in a blood-stained bandage. A child with a fever, his face flushed and his eyes glassy, clinging to his mother's hand.
The chaos was overwhelming. A dozen voices, a dozen different pains, all rising into the morning air in a cacophony of need and desperation.
"Niek's popular," Briv said, his voice flat.
"Always has been." Chris stepped through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces, murmuring quick apologies as he made his way to the door. He knocked twice, then pushed it open without waiting for an answer.
Inside, the cabin was even smaller than it looked. The walls were lined with shelves crammed full of bottles and jars, their contents ranging from dried herbs to strange liquids that glowed faintly in the dim light. A wooden table dominated the center of the room, scattered with papers and medical instruments and what looked suspiciously like a half-eaten apple. The air smelled of mint and something sharp and medicinal, a combination that made Briv's nose twitch.
And behind the table, hunched over a massive leather-bound journal, sat a small, wiry man with gray-streaked hair and an expression of intense concentration.
He didn't look up when they entered.
"Busy," he said, his voice clipped. "Come back later."
"Hello to you too, Niek," Chris said, his tone dry. "Nice to see you as well. Lovely morning we're having."
Niek's pen stopped. He looked up, his sharp eyes fixing on Chris with an expression that was equal parts exasperation and fondness.
"Chris. I should have known." He set down the pen, leaning back in his chair. "You don't usually drag yourself out of bed for a social call, and you definitely don't bring company." His gaze shifted to Briv, and his expression became appraising. "This must be the boy."
"Briv," Briv said, offering an awkward wave. "I'm not actually a boy. I'm twenty-three."
"Twenty-three and still introducing yourself with a wave. Impressive." Niek's voice was flat, but his eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement. He gestured at the chair across from him. "Sit."
Briv sat.
Chris moved to lean against the wall, but Niek held up a hand.
"You can wait outside."
"I'd rather—"
"I don't care what you'd rather." Niek's voice was calm but firm, utterly without malice. "This is between your son and me. If you want to hover, go hover somewhere else."
Chris's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He gave Briv a quick, reassuring nod, then slipped out the door, pulling it shut behind him.
The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Briv shifted in his chair, suddenly very aware of the scars on his back and the way his hands were trembling slightly in his lap.
Niek studied him for a long moment, his eyes sharp and assessing. Then he reached for a notebook, flipped it open, and picked up his pen.
"Let's start simple. How long have you been having trouble sleeping?"
Briv blinked. "How did you—"
"You look like death warmed over, your eyes are bloodshot, and you're gripping your knees like they're trying to escape." Niek didn't look up from his notebook. "Answer the question."
"Three years. Maybe longer." Briv hesitated. "It comes and goes. Most nights are fine, but sometimes I can't... I can't shut my brain off."
"What keeps it on?"
"Everything." Briv laughed, a short, hollow sound. "I rehash conversations, obsess over things I said years ago, worry about the future, worry about the people I care about, worry about worrying. It's like there's a voice in my head that never shuts up, and it always finds something new to fixate on."
Niek wrote something down. "Do you have panic attacks?"
"Sometimes."
"When was the last one?"
Briv's stomach clenched. He thought about the forest, the feeling of being hunted, the way his breath had caught in his throat and his heart had hammered against his ribs. "Two days ago. I was in Naaran Forest with my friends, and something happened. I don't know what. Nothing dangerous, nothing real, but I... I couldn't breathe. I thought I was going to die."
"The dreams you mentioned to your father. Tell me about them."
"Niek, I—"
"Tell me about them."
Briv sighed, running a hand through his hair. "They're always the same. I'm walking through the dark, feeling like something's chasing me, and there's no escape. Sometimes I make it to a house, but it doesn't help. The dark follows me inside. It gets everywhere, and I can't breathe, and I'm always alone."
"And how do you feel when you wake up?"
"Terrified. Exhausted. Like I've been running all night." Briv paused. "And a little bit foolish. I know it's just a dream, so I should be able to move past it, but I can't. I can't let it go."
"Why do you think you can't?"
"Because it feels real. Because some part of me believes it's true." Briv's voice was getting lower, harder to hear. "Because I've always felt like I'm walking through the dark alone, even when I'm surrounded by people."
Niek set down his pen. "Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know. I don't—" Briv stopped, frustrated. "I've been outcast since I was a child. The ritual that was supposed to awaken my powers failed, and everyone looked at me differently after that. Like I was broken. Like I was less than human."
"The ritual that left those scars on your back."
Briv's hand moved instinctively to his shoulder, tracing the raised lines through his shirt. "Yeah. Those ones."
"And you believe your inability to find love, to feel safe, to stop running—you believe all of that stems from being rejected as a child?"
"Doesn't it?" Briv's voice was sharp, defensive.
"Maybe. Or maybe you're using that rejection as a shield." Niek leaned forward, his eyes boring into Briv's. "It's easier to believe you're unlovable than to risk being proven right. It's easier to push people away than to let them close enough to hurt you."
Briv's throat tightened. "You don't know that."
"I've seen it before. A hundred times." Niek's voice was quieter now, softer. "You're so afraid of being hurt again that you've built walls so high no one can get over them. And then you wonder why you're alone."
"My friends—"
"Friends are safe. Friends don't require the kind of vulnerability that romantic love does. Friends don't need you to open yourself up and risk your heart." Niek paused. "Have you ever been in love?"
Briv's face flushed. "I... I thought so, once. When I was younger."
"What happened?"
"She left." Briv's voice cracked. "I pushed her away. I got scared, and I pushed her away, and I've never been able to forgive myself for it."
Niek studied him for a long moment. "What was her name?"
"Sorry, what?"
"Her name. I want to know her name."
Briv's mouth went dry. After a long moment, he managed to force the words out. "Wren."
"Wren." Niek wrote it down. "And when you think about her, what do you feel?"
"Guilt. Grief." Briv swallowed. "Shame. For the way I treated her."
Niek nodded, setting down his pen again. "You've been carrying that guilt for years. It's poisoning you, affecting everything you do, everything you feel. You're so afraid of making the same mistake again that you've stopped trying altogether." He paused. "You described love as suffering. You told me that being touched feels like being burned."
Briv's chest tightened. "I said that?"
"You said it this morning, when I asked you what you think about when you think about intimacy." Niek's voice was cold and unyielding. "Do you remember?"
Briv's hands trembled in his lap. "I remember."
"Where did that come from?"
"My mother."
Niek's eyes sharpened. "Your mother?"
"She was kind to me. She loved me, I think, in her way. But she was always touching—a hand on my shoulder, a kiss on my head—and it always felt wrong." Briv's voice was barely above a whisper. "Like I was drowning, and she was pushing me deeper under the water. Like every touch was a claim I couldn't shake, a possession I couldn't escape. It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud."
But I thought she loved you, Briv. She did it because she loved you. "I know." Briv's throat tightened. "And that's what makes it so wrong. I know she loved me, and I know I'm broken because I can't accept it. Because I can't let anyone love me without feeling like I'm dying."
Niek was silent for a long moment. Then: "What happened between you and your mother, Briv? The real story."
Briv's chin dropped to his chest. The words lodged in his throat, thick and jagged, refusing to come out.
"Briv?" Niek's voice was softer.
"There was a fire," Briv said, the words hardly more than a breath, "the night she tried to teach me a tendril of her family magic."
Niek stiffened as he sat back, gesturing for Briv to continue.
"She wanted to help me control the fire so I wouldn't be so afraid. But it spread too fast. The last thing I remember was her screaming from behind a curtain of flames, and then—"
"You woke up on a hill."
Briv nodded slowly, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "I never went back. I never looked for her. I never found out if she made it out in time. I don't even know if she's alive." His voice broke. "I abandoned her. I abandoned her, and I've been telling myself for years that I don't care. That it doesn't matter. But it does. It matters so much."
Niek's face was unreadable. "You never told anyone this?"
"Who would I tell?" Briv laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "My father is the only family I have left, and he might have made mistakes, but he did his best with what he had. The friends I've made here are the first people I've ever let close enough to care about." He shook his head. "I don't trust anyone with my heart."
"Then why did you come here?"
Briv was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was raw, honest. "Because my father looked at me last night, and I saw how scared he was. I saw how much it hurt him to see me like this, and I thought—" He swallowed. "I thought maybe I should stop carrying it alone."
Niek studied him for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. "You're not as broken as you think you are, Briv. You're carrying wounds that have never been properly treated, and they're festering. But they can be healed. If you're willing to do the work."
"How? How do I heal the scars I've been hiding for years?"
"By facing the things you've been avoiding." Niek wrote something in his notebook, then snapped it shut. "You need to find Wren. You need to see her again, to look her in the eye, to apologize. You need to find your mother, tell her you're sorry, and grieve the relationship you never got to have." He paused. "And you need to stop running from the people who want to love you. Because they exist, Briv. You just haven't given them the chance."
Briv sat in silence, letting the words wash over him. They were terrifying in their simplicity, in their absolute impossibility. How was he supposed to face Wren after all these years? How was he supposed to look his mother in the eye when he didn't even know if she was alive?
But alongside the fear was something else. A small, stubborn flicker of hope. Of relief. The kind of relief that comes from finally telling the truth, from finally letting go of a secret too heavy to carry.
"I'll try," he said, the words quiet but firm. "I don't know if I'm ready. But I'll try."
Niek nodded, a hint of warmth creeping into his expression. "That's all I can ask for."
He was just writing something down when the door swung open and Chris appeared, his face pinched with concern.
"You all right in here?" he asked, his eyes darting between Briv and Niek.
"We're fine," Niek said dryly. "You just couldn't stand to be left out of the conversation, could you?"
"Something like that," Chris admitted. He was holding a thick folder, slightly battered, and he placed it on the table with a sense of finality. "I brought these if you need them."
Niek picked up the folder, flipping through it with practiced efficiency. His eyebrows rose slightly. "This is a substantial file. Bolgrey family history. Medical records." He paused, glancing up at Chris with a look of surprise. "It goes back further than I remember. And it mentions dates I didn't expect."
Chris stiffened. "The family has a long history with illness."
Briv stared at the folder, his heart pounding in his chest. Niek had said the file was thick. And unusual. The question burned in his throat, ready to leap out, but Chris returned to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on," he said. "Let's give Niek some time to work."
Briv didn't move. His gaze was still fixed on the file.
"Dad, what's in there? What records from before I was born?"
Chris's hand tightened on his shoulder. "I'll tell you later, son," he said, his voice low. "Let's go."
Briv wanted to argue, wanted to demand answers, but one look at his father's face—pinched with worry and something that looked a lot like fear—was enough to quiet him. He let Chris guide him out of the cabin, back into the cold morning air, and waited while his father shut the door behind them.
The streets were quieter on the walk home, most of the morning crowd already gone about their business. Chris walked beside him in silence, his shoulders stiff, his eyes fixed on something in the middle distance.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Chris said eventually, his voice rough. "Niek can be... abrupt. But he's good at what he does."
"He said I need to face the things I've been avoiding," Briv said quietly. "He mentioned a girl. A girl from my past."
Chris's steps slowed. "He did?"
"Yeah. He seems to think I still owe her an explanation." Briv glanced at his father, watching his expression carefully. "Do you know her? The girl I'm talking about?"
Chris was quiet for a long moment. "Wren. You used to talk about her when you were younger. Not much, but enough." He let out a slow breath. "You never told me what happened."
Briv felt a familiar ache in his chest. "I was a coward. I couldn't face her, so I let her go." He paused. "I've been letting a lot of people go, I think."
They walked the rest of the way home in heavy silence.
Later, as Briv was filling a cup with water, Chris walked into the kitchen and stood by the window. "I'm going out for a bit. I have some stores to check on—making sure we have enough supplies for the new astru," he said, his voice measured, but Briv noticed the way his hands were gripping the edge of the counter. "Take the night. Talk to Tyro, to Kwig. Do something that makes you feel human, will you?"
Briv looked up, surprised. "You're the one who dragged me out of bed this morning to get help."
"And now I'm telling you to go get some air, little bird." Chris smiled, a crooked, tired expression that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You've been carrying this weight for too long. I'm not saying a night out with your friends will fix it, but it might help lift it for a little while."
"Dad, I—"
"Just go." Chris paused, then added, "And if you see a pretty girl, don't run away screaming. That's all I'm saying."
Briv stared at him. "I don't run away screaming. I'm not a horror story come to life."
"Could've fooled me. You've got the haunted look down pat." Chris's smile widened, and for a moment, he looked almost like his old self. "Listen, son, I know I'm not a romantic. Far from it. But I know a thing or two about how it feels to be too scared to take a chance."
"The storm, huh? When mother—"
"That's not the only time." Chris moved to sit at the table, gesturing for Briv to join him. "Before your mother, there was a woman in Oakhurst. Fierce, clever, made me laugh until my sides hurt. I was so terrified of getting it wrong that I ended up doing nothing at all." He shook his head. "She got tired of waiting, and I never saw her again."
"What happened to her?"
"She's happy. Married, two kids, a bakery that does well. I see her sometimes when I pass through." Chris's smile was touched with regret. "She greets me like an old friend. And I look at her and wonder what might have happened if I'd had the courage to try."
"That's not exactly encouraging, Dad."
"It's not meant to be. It's meant to be real." Chris leaned forward. "You spent your whole life running from love because you're terrified it's not going to work out. But I'm telling you, the regret of not trying is worse. It follows you around, whispering in your ear, reminding you of everything you might have had."
Briv was silent for a long moment. "How do you do it? How do you take the risk, knowing it might fail?"
"You just do." Chris shrugged. "You grit your teeth and you jump, and you hope you land on your feet." He paused. "And if you're lucky, you might just land in someone's arms."
"That's terrifying."
"That's life." Chris smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "I almost named you Cassandra, you know."
Briv blinked, utterly thrown. "What?"
"When your mother was pregnant, I was convinced you were going to be a girl. I wanted to call you Cassandra." Chris's smile grew wider at Briv's horrified expression. "Told everyone in Seko that I was going to have a daughter. Bought a little pink dress and everything. When you came out a boy, I had to eat my words."
"Dad. That's the most embarrassing thing I've ever heard."
"It's a good story, though. One day, when you have kids, you can tell them your father almost named you Cassandra."
"I'm never having kids now. I'm too scared they'll inherit the Bolgrey luck."
"Smart man." Chris clapped him on the shoulder, then pushed back from the table. "I've got things to do. You go on. Enjoy your night."
Briv watched him leave, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He still had a thousand questions about the file, about Niek's strange comments, about whatever his father was hiding. But for now, he was content to let it go.
He was halfway out the door when a sharp knock stopped him.
A young soldier stood on the doorstep, his face young and uncomfortable, his uniform neat but his expression apologetic. He was barely older than Briv, with a farmer's build, and a faint pink flush spread across the back of his neck as he cleared his throat.
"I'm looking for Chris Bolgrey."
"He's right here," Chris said, appearing behind Briv. "What's this about?"
"I'm afraid I have to ask you to come with me to the Land's Heart guard post." the soldier said, keeping his voice low and firm. "Waldkros wants a word. With you."
Briv saw his father's jaw tighten, and his hand moved slightly closer to his side, as if reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. "Does he now? Care to tell me what it's about, soldier?"
"I don't know, sir. I was just told to bring you." The soldier glanced at Briv, then back to Chris. "He mentioned an inspection. Something about verifying the shield's integrity."
"Sounds official," Chris said, in a voice that did not sound like he believed it for a moment.
"Is it bad?" Briv asked quietly, his voice pitched only for his father.
"I don't know." Chris gave him a long, steady look. "But I'm going to find out." He turned to the soldier. "My son's coming with me. That a problem?"
The soldier hesitated. "Chief Waldkros said only you."
"Then Waldkros can be disappointed." Chris's voice was flat and final.
The soldier studied him for a long moment, then sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Fine. Let's go."
Land's Heart was a squat stone building at the edge of Seko, built over a natural fissure in the earth that had been expanded and reinforced over centuries until it had grown into a fortress of mining tunnels and chambers carved deep into the bedrock below. The structure was closed to the public, guarded at all hours by soldiers who saluted as Chris approached but did not block his path.
Inside, the air was cold and damp, smelling of stone and dust and something mineral that lingered at the back of the throat. Chris led Briv down a winding staircase that seemed to descend forever, lit only by small glowing crystals embedded in the walls. The farther they went, the brighter and larger the crystals became.
Briv forgot to breathe.
The cavern opened up ahead of them, vast and impossibly deep, its walls studded with glowing crystals that pulsed with a light like a heartbeat. Every color of the spectrum seemed to be represented, filling the space with so much light that Briv almost had to shield his eyes.
At the center of the cavern was a crystal the size of his childhood home. It floated above a natural dais of rock, rotating slowly, glowing a deep white that made everything around it dim by comparison. Briv felt its light radiate through his body, warm and huge, like being in a dream.
"What is this place?" Briv whispered, unable to tear his eyes away.
"This is Seko's heart," Chris said, his voice reverent. "The Great White Mother Crystal. It powers the shield that protects our city. It's been here since the island's founding."
Briv stared up at the great crystal. Its light was intense, but something was wrong. It seemed smaller than the space around it called for. The color was too dim at the edges. Like it had been burning too long with something missing.
"It's fading," Chris whispered, his voice low.
Briv turned to him. "What?"
"It's smaller than it should be," he said, the words slow, almost disbelieving. "I've been down here a dozen times. The crystal was always brighter. Bigger. Something's eating it alive."
Briv followed him closer, his skin feeling cold despite the warmth radiating from the crystal. He looked at his father and saw the edges of his fear.
"Dad, how do you know that?"
"It's my family's duty, Briv. Bolgreys have been the keepers of the crystal for generations." Chris touched its surface, and Briv watched the shadows move across his face. "I should have seen it sooner. I should have been watching closer."
"Is everything going to be all right?" Briv asked, his voice quiet as he looked at the glowing crystal and the tunnels stretching out beneath the earth.
"I don't know yet, son." He turned, and Briv could see him processing this new weight. "But I'm going to find out." Chris looked at him, and his voice was gentle but firm. "Head home, little bird. I'll be along soon."
Briv looked at him, searching his face, then nodded. He turned to leave, but something in the cavern walls caught his eye—a seam of darker crystal, almost invisible against the rock, running like a vein of black blood from the Mother Crystal deep into the earth.
"Dad, what's that?"
Chris followed his gaze, and Briv saw his eyes widen slightly. "The tunnel at the edge," Chris said. "It leads beneath the sea to another crystal, beneath the city of Sarrith. Together, they form the shield that protects Gantor from the outside world—from the heavens falling and the void beyond."
Briv froze. "The void?"
"A myth, to most." Chris was watching the dark vein in the rock now. "But there is a fear—an old one—that if either shield fails, the darkness will flow in through the breach." He paused, his hand resting on the wall. "That's why there's a mechanism at the base of the tunnel. It can sever the link, closing Gantor off completely, if Sarrith's shield ever falls and we can't hold the line."
"Would we survive?"
"I don't know." And Briv saw it in his father's eyes: genuine fear, genuine uncertainty, and a terrible weight of knowledge.
The silence stretched between them, and then Chris straightened up, his voice firm. "Go home, Briv. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Briv wanted to ask more questions, to press him for answers, but there was a finality in his father's voice that he knew better than to push against. He nodded, turned, and climbed the long staircase back to the surface, his mind churning.
But he didn't go home.
He stood at the entrance of Land's Heart, looking out over the town of Seko as the evening light crept across the sky. The last words of the prophecy from his dream—if it was a dream—echoed in his mind: You are the cage, and you are the thing that wants to get in.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
The name Niek had given him was Chiara.
He had to know if she still lived at the same address.