The Reckless and the Restless

Ayen’s hand hovered over Galir’s chest, her silver light spilling warm and steady across the ragged wound. She threaded torn flesh back together with quiet precision.

Kade and Bilia sat cross-legged on the carpet, watching in equal rapture and fear, as though they hadn’t seen her perform the exact same miracle on Kade only moments before.

Hanel folded his arms and stood above the four of them.

The great carpet stretched across the living room like a meadow of woven color, and the chairs waited untouched on the far side, too proper for the bloody and bruised. Galir and Kade were too battered to reach them anyway, though they insisted they didn’t want to “mess up the furniture.” Bilia stayed close because her small heart couldn’t bear to leave them, and Ayen…

Well, Ayen never needed a reason.

His daughter’s stubborn and wild streak had never dimmed, not even after all these years of drilling discipline into her. She was spirited, irritatingly gifted, and right now, far too smug for her own good.

Hanel’s mouth twitched.

If Akalis had been present, neither boy would have dared appear in such a disheveled, blood-soaked state. They would have been standing straight, clothes neat, voices contrite.

But Hanel was not Akalis.

He had neither her overbearing glare nor her relentless control. He admired the woman’s effort, but the very thought of it exhausted him. He was easy-tempered, the sort of Marked known across Lunavin for a relaxed style that came not from philosophy but from sheer fatigue after long missions.

Still, tonight, fatigue or not, he gave them the stern face. Arms crossed. Jaw set. The works.

Kade squirmed under the weight of it.

Galir feigned indifference by examining the wall as though it were a profound work of art.

“That was,” Hanel said, voice deep and final, “utterly idiotic.”

He added a string of sharper words for good measure, just to be certain the point sank in.

The two boys had decided to duel in the training courtyard while no responsible people, and certainly no healers, were present. Things escalated, as they always did. Galir, all sword and muscle and stubborn pride, had landed a blow that couldn’t be parried. Kade, all excessive magic and bad impulse control, had thrown the spell too hard.

If Hanel and Ayen hadn’t stopped by for a surprise check-in, Galir would be in the ground, and Kade not far behind him.

Kade’s eyes lingered on Galir’s tunic, a pale fabric now dyed crimson. His guilt was plain enough.

“I didn’t mean to hit that hard,” he muttered.

“I didn’t think he’d dodge that slow,” Galir, pale and sweating, muttered back.

His gaze flickered toward Kade’s freshly mended gash that had run from shoulder to arm only minutes ago.

“Tell me, was this before or after you both decided common sense was optional?” Hanel said flatly.

Ayen leaned back on her haunches, flicking healing light off her fingers as if she hadn’t just patched up two bleeding idiots.

She looked very pleased with herself.

“I’d like to thank you both,” she said sweetly. “You’re making me look exceptionally sane by comparison. Father, do take note.”

Galir gave her a withering look.

Kade grinned as if she praised him.

Hanel just sighed. “I regret every decision that led me to this moment.”

“That’s most of your life, isn’t it?” Ayen replied cheerfully.

He gave her a look.

She gave him her most innocent smile, which was to say: not innocent at all.

Galir groaned and sat up straighter, peeling the tattered shirt off his chest. Ayen’s eyes may have lingered a beat too long.

Hanel noticed. So did Kade.

“Nice abs,” Ayen said, completely deadpan.

Galir froze mid-step. “… what?”

“Very symmetrical,” she added with a thoughtful nod, like she was evaluating a painting rather than a person.

Galir gave her a dry look. “Please, do continue cataloguing my anatomy like it’s an exhibit in the Silver Tower Archives.”

Kade blinked, then glanced down at his own (considerably less battle-built but perfectly decent) torso.

“…What about me?” he asked, hopeful.

Ayen turned to him with a raised brow, expression far too smug for Hanel’s comfort.

“You’re adorable, Kade.”

Kade immediately regretted asking. “That’s not the same thing!”

“No, it isn’t,” Ayen agreed, already walking away like she'd won a competition no one else had entered. “But you’re still adorable.”

Kade looked betrayed.

Galir, now heading toward the hall, gave him a look that said: You brought this on yourself.

Hanel pressed two fingers to his temple.

The headache bloomed like a flower.

Ayen grinned up at him. “Don’t worry, Father. I have no interest in a Badania.”

Which was somehow more annoying than if she had. Especially the way she said it, like she could read his thoughts, though he knew she couldn’t.

Then, small fingers tugged gently at his sleeve.

He looked down into the wide, innocent eyes of Bilia.

“Are you going to stay?” she asked, voice as sweet as honey over warm bread.

Hanel’s scowl softened instantly.

It wouldn’t be the first time he spent the night here. He’d practically lived in this house once, back before any of these children had even been born, back when he, Elsen, and Akalis had been young and foolish themselves.

“I’ll stay,” he said, giving her a tired but genuine smile.

Her face lit up like the festival lanterns.

“Can you tell me stories? About other places you’ve been?” she asked, her voice high with hope.

He rested a hand gently on her head, ruffling her silver curls.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll even tell you the one about the ice-hounds of Meraglyn. But only if you promise to never, ever duel your siblings when I’m not looking.”

She giggled and nodded solemnly.

Hanel sighed again, long and deep.

One calm child out of three.

That was all he had.

He looked toward the hallway where Galir had disappeared and where Kade now sat pouting at the floor.

Yes. Tonight was going to be a long one.

****

Later that night, the chaos gave way to calm.

The living room had been cleaned up, more or less.

Galir had returned, scrubbed and wearing one of the long tunics he usually saved for occasions that didn’t involve bleeding. Kade had swapped his own torn clothes for a fresh set, his hair still damp from the bath, looking significantly less like someone who almost died before dinner.

Bilia had pulled a blanket onto the carpet and declared it the official Story Spot.

Ayen sat cross-legged against the base of the couch, arms resting on her knees, quiet in that rare, eerie way she sometimes got when something interested her more than she wanted to admit.

And Hanel, surrounded by these barely-civilized gremlins he'd somehow adopted as students, family, and permanent stressors, sat back in one of the armchairs with a cup of lukewarm tea and the slow patience of a man used to being talked over by generals, kings, and seven-year-olds.

Bilia’s eyes were wide and curious.
“Hanel, is it true you’ve been to Ralensa?”

“Ralensa?” he repeated, eyebrows raising over his cup. “That’s a name I haven’t heard properly in years. Where did you hear it?”

“We saw them,” Kade said quickly. “Through the estate’s upper gate this morning. A Ralensan carriage came through the city. You should’ve seen the animals pulling it, six-legged lizards, huge and scary.”

“And golden eyes,” Bilia added with a dramatic whisper, because golden eyes made everything better.

“They were delegations, right?” Ayen asked, tilting her head. “Here to negotiate protection from the Calling?”

Hanel set his cup down and gave a thoughtful hum.

“So the Council finally sent someone. Interesting…”

“You’ve been there, haven’t you?” Kade pressed. “What’s it like? Is it true they barely have any magic? What’s it like fighting without it?”

“Did you get in a duel?” Galir asked, arms crossed. “Or a brawl? A proper one.”

“And did they have food?” Bilia chirped hopefully.

Hanel chuckled, giving a theatrical sigh as if he were already regretting the amount of detail he was about to indulge them with.

“Yes, yes, not really, and absolutely.”

He leaned forward slightly, eyes distant as he began.

***

“Ralensa lies far west of Lunavin. Far enough that most people here never seen it. I spent nearly a year there once, under what you might call... complicated circumstances.”

“Which is your way of saying ‘definitely got arrested,’” Ayen muttered under her breath.

Hanel ignored her.

“Ralensa is a land of stone and wind. Mountainous, dry, yet beautiful in a way Lunavin never could be. There, the people don’t revere sorcerers, because they’re so rare if they ever exist. There was only one sorcerer at that time. Magic is a whisper in Ralensa, not a thunderclap like here.

“The strength of a man or woman is measured by skill alone, and by what they can build or break with their own hands.”

Galir’s posture shifted slightly. His interest was obvious.

“I met warriors there,” Hanel continued. “Steel-boned, sharp-eyed, and dressed in armor so light you’d mistake it for cloth. They could walk up a cliffside faster than most people run on flat ground.

“The best of them were called Kaedarn, we fought togather in a Calling then. They trained without magic, fought without enchantments, and could still fight beasts back with nothing but a spear and a fiery spirit.”

Kade made a sound halfway between awe and jealousy.

“They had the best food I’ve ever tasted,” Hanel added. “Savory rice cooked in leaves, pepper sauces that could knock a full-grown man unconscious, and flatbreads so thin and buttery they melted on your tongue before you could ask for seconds.”

“You always talk more passionately about food than people,” Ayen observed.

“Food never talks back,” Hanel replied, sipping his tea.

“What happened to them?” Galir asked.

“They’re still there,” Hanel said. “Ralensa doesn’t care about empires or politics or magic councils. It endures. Like the mountains. I haven’t been back in years, but I hope one day you’ll all see it yourselves.”

Kade nodded solemnly.

Bilia sighed dreamily.

Even Ayen remained still, listening without commentary for once.

Then…

A soft thump echoed under the floor.

The tea in Hanel’s cup rippled.

The floor gave a muted shiver, like a breath held too long.

A glowing sigil flared to life at the base of the far wall: a pale yellowih circle of old, complicated runes.

The air in the room tightened.

Silent alarm. South corridor.
Old wards, ones that weren’t supposed to be triggered unless something bypassed the outer defenses.

Hanel was on his feet in an instant.

Kade scrambled upright. “What was that?”

“Perimeter breach,” Hanel said.

Galir moved swiftly, swords already in hand, expression unreadable. “Do we arm up?”

“No,” Hanel snapped, voice suddenly sharp and sure. “I check first. You stay here. That’s not a suggestion.”

“But…” Kade began.

“I said stay.”

Even Ayen straightened at the tone.

“You don’t want backup?” she asked.

“Watch the sigils,” Hanel said. “If another one flares, wake the house and leave.”

And just like that, he was gone, the sound of his footsteps swallowed by the quiet.

In the silence he left behind, even Bilia didn’t speak.

The story of Ralensa was over.

And something had come to start its own.