The Parallels Between Us

The woman spoke, her voice soft and unhurried.

"If you don't mind, could we speak in that room over there?"

Wren backed up. Rowan's hand moved to his sword, his fingers curling around the hilt. Even Silas's stance changed, his posture straightening, his hands leaving his pockets for the first time since they'd entered the stronghold.

Wren's voice came out tight. "Are you Ysolde?"

The woman replied, "Yes."

She started walking toward the door at the far end of the hallway. She passed by the three of them standing there, and the air seemed to shift as she moved. It was like watching water part around a stone. Wren caught the faint scent of something cold, like frost on old leaves.

Lisa and Bram turned to follow her. Bram glanced back and gestured for them to come.

Wren thought to herself, This woman is Ysolde.

Wren and the others followed. Rowan stayed close behind Wren, his hand still resting near his sword. Silas walked with his eyes closed, his face unreadable, but there was a tightness in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

They reached the door. Bram ran ahead to open it for Ysolde. She entered without a word. Wren and Rowan, after a brief hesitation, entered too.

The room looked like a meeting hall. A big round table dominated the center, its surface worn smooth by years of use. Chairs were arranged around it, spaced far apart. Torches burned in iron brackets along the walls, casting long shadows that swayed and twisted.

Tessa was already there.

She sat on one of the chairs, her aqua hair spilling over her shoulders, her blue eyes fixed on Silas. They were the same color as Ysolde's. That same clear, winter blue. But where Ysolde's gaze was calm, Tessa's was burning. She glared at Silas with an intensity that could have set stone on fire.

Ysolde sat at the table, her movements unhurried.

She gestured for them to sit too. Wren sat hesitantly on the chair across from her. Silas took a chair further down the table, leaning back with his arms crossed. Rowan stood behind Wren, his hand still on his sword, because the chairs were placed too far apart for him to sit beside her.

The room settled into silence. Ysolde folded her hands on the table and looked at Wren.

"I'm sure you have questions for me. You may ask them."

Wren stayed silent for a second. Her hands were folded in her lap, her fingers pressing into her palms. "Where's Old Man Pryce? Wren wants to see him." Her voice came out low.

"Oh, he's safe." Ysolde's voice was gentle, almost reassuring. "But are you sure there's nothing else you want to ask?"

Wren paused. "You were a registered Wholevoice. So why are you doing all this?"

"Oh, so you found out." Ysolde tilted her head, a faint smile touching her lips. "What else do you know?"

"Your file was empty. There was nothing in it," Wren replied.

Ysolde let out a small chuckle. It was a soft sound, almost musical. "They even erased the proof of my existence."

Wren frowned. "What do you mean?"

Ysolde looked at her own hands, turning them over slowly. The faint cracks in her skin caught the torchlight. "Look at my hands. My hair. My face. Even these eyes aren't mine. The Crown asked of me something beyond my what I could pay toll for." She paused, letting the words settle.

"Do you know of the droughts that struck the northern regions of the kingdom? North of the capital?"

Rowan answered quietly. "I know of them."

Ysolde glanced at him for a moment, then turned back to Wren.

"I was a Fatebinder like you. When the Crown found me, I was young. I was happy. I had a little sister who looked at me like I was the sun itself. She used to tell me I was going to save the world." She paused, and something moved behind her blue eyes.

"I believed her. I believed all of it."

"Then the droughts came. They were destroying the northern regions."

"My town was there. My family was there. The Crown told me to fix it. To ask the Chorus. They said it was my duty, my purpose, the reason I had been given this power." Her voice remained calm, but there was a current running beneath it now, cold and deep.

"They didn't consider the toll. They didn't warn me what it would take. They just needed the droughts to end. So I made the Vow."

She lifted her hands, letting the torchlight catch the fine cracks in her skin. "The toll took my eyes. I had to take these from someone else. These aren't mine." She touched her own face, her fingers tracing her cheek.

"This body broke. My power broke. Everything I was, everything my sister believed I would be, it all went into that Vow."

"And when it was over, the Crown looked at what was left of me and decided I was inconvenient. A reminder of what they'd done. So they erased me. Every record. Every proof that Ysolde Vane had ever existed." She smiled then, and it was the saddest thing Wren had ever seen.

"My town still survived. My sister still survived. But she doesn't remember me. She can't. The toll took that too."

Wren's eyes widened. Rowan's grip around his sword loosened, just slightly. On the chair to Wren's left, Silas sat as if none of this touched him, his face unreadable, his arms crossed. Tessa was still glaring at him from across the table. Beside her, Bram and Lisa sat with tears falling silently from their eyes.

Ysolde's voice softened. "I was from a small town too. Just like you. I didn't know about this power when I was first discovered. I was happy to be help for the kingdom."

"I had a little sister too. She treated me like a hero. She said she wanted me to save the world someday."

She paused and looked at Wren. There was no accusation in her eyes. Only understanding. Only the quiet invitation of someone who had walked the same road and was offering to guide the way.

Wren hesitated. "Then... what do you want from Wren?"

Ysolde didn't answer. Not with words. Her eyes drifted to the white streak in Wren's hair. She looked at it for a long moment, and something flickered across her face. Recognition. Sorrow. A mirror held up to her own broken reflection.

The silence stretched, heavy and full of things unsaid.

"Do you know why we pay a toll for our vows?"

Wren looked confused. She had never thought of this. Not once. "No."

Ysolde smiled a little. It was a gentle smile, almost maternal. "Our toll feeds the seal."

"Which seal?" Wren thought for a second, and then it clicked. The documents from the library. The old paper with the trembling handwriting. "Are you talking about the seal on the Unshaped?"

"Yes. That one." Ysolde's voice was steady, patient, as if she were explaining something simple to a child. "The Chorus feeds on our sacrifice in the toll to keep the seal active."

Wren and Rowan both froze. Their eyes widened at the same moment, the weight of the words crashing over them like cold water.

Ysolde continued. "Humanity lives on the toll paid by us."

"How do you know this?" The question came out of Wren's mouth before she could stop it.

"I spent twenty years researching it." Ysolde's tone didn't change. "I was waiting for a legendary Fatebinder to appear. Waiting for you. Before that, I dedicated my life to understanding the truth. I learned about this when I was in the Glautis Kingdom, on the southern continent."

"Then you want to—"

"Yes, Wren Calder." Ysolde leaned forward slightly, her blue eyes steady on Wren's face. "I want you to undo the seal. I want you to free all Fatebinders from this curse of the toll. And you are the only one who can do it."

Wren looked at the ground. Her thoughts were scattering, colliding into each other. The seal. The saviour. The Unshaped. The words flowed through her mind, unable to be contained, each one pulling her in a different direction.

Then came the sound of a chair scraping on stone.

Silas got up from his seat to her left. He did not look at anyone. He turned toward the door and left the room without a word. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Ysolde ignored him entirely. Her eyes remained on Wren.

"There is no rush," she said softly. "Take your time. You can have as many days as you need. I will not force you."

"But won't releasing the Unshaped destroy everything?"

"It won't." Ysolde's voice was calm, absolute. "You'll have to trust me on this."

Wren looked Ysolde in the eye. And she could feel it. The smile was warm. The voice was soothing. But something was hidden beneath it, buried deep, something Ysolde was not telling her. Not the full truth. A gap in the story, carefully smoothed over.

"Can I have some time?" Wren asked.

"Yes." Ysolde turned to Tessa. "Tessa, release Pryce. Bram and Lisa, show them the way."

All three of them got up. Tessa left the room first, her aqua hair swaying behind her. Bram and Lisa gestured for them to follow. Wren stayed at the chair for a little long.

Rowan and Wren rose from their chairs and walked out after them.