Web of Chaos - Chapter 21: Fate

Relia sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, back pressed against the foot of her bed. The room looked like a dark chapel with its polished marble floors, high ceilings, and ornamented glass windows. It was far too large for comfort, and Relia felt like a bottle cap rolling around the bottom of a trash can.

A Mystic-sized bed dominated the center, big enough to fit four or five people. Empty bookshelves sat nestled into the walls on either side, surrounded by polished obsidian pillars that supported stone arches. The only other furniture was a wooden desk with her laptop and a small stack of school books. She also had a simple rolling chair that she’d taken from the palace library.

Relia could have decorated this space if she wanted. The Honor Guard had retrieved all her personals things from her old apartment, including her stuffed animals, books, and board games. She could have opened the boxes and made this room her own.

But no . . . she wouldn’t give in. This room was a prison cell, plain and simple. She refused to call it anything else.

Her father kept trying to turn her against the Darklights with his visions and pompous monologues about the greater good. He claimed Elend was manipulating Relia and the others, using them for his own goals. Meanwhile, he did the exact same thing to her.

She might be out of her depth here, but she knew what hypocrisy looked like.

"I train to do what's right,” Relia whispered the words into the vast emptiness of her room. She’d uttered that exact phrase more than a thousand times this past month, trying to push herself into the Master realm through sheer force of will.

Her soul stirred and rippled like a spring in a storm, but that was all. No sudden surge of mana. No advancement.

She exhaled slowly, releasing the tension from her shoulders and neck. Her eyelids fell open, and she caught a glimpse of the mana watch on her left wrist.

11,999.

One point away from the Master realm. A point that might as well have been a thousand miles.

The Honor Guard had spent the past few months capturing mana beasts from around the city and carrying them to the basement of the Palace Prime. Down there, her father revealed his true power as an Aeon, breaking down the creatures’ souls and giving those pieces to Relia.

So much mana in such a short time. This could have saved Relia’s life as an Apprentice, but numbers weren’t enough to save Elise. She still needed to find the right words, but those words eluded her like a forgotten dream.

“I train to do what’s right,” she repeated. The key fit the lock, but it wasn’t strong enough to open the floodgates. Her father had been right about that part.

What else was he right about?

No. She would die before she betrayed the Darklights or the rest of her team. It didn’t matter what memories he showed her, or what greater good he claimed to serve.

But then . . . wasn’t that his whole point?

“Your mind is like a closed fist. Too hard and rigid to see the truth.”

Of course he would think that. Moral flexibility was a great way to justify killing thousands for your long-term goals.

But what if Relia was the opposite extreme—too far in the other direction?

“Fine,” she said. “There is no right and wrong!” She glanced down at her soul. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Her soul didn’t answer, of course. It wasn’t enough to speak your revelation aloud. You had to believe it with all your heart. In other words, it had to resonate with your thoughts as well as your soul.

“I train to make the world a better place.” Her soul stirred in response, but it felt fainter than before. Just a variation of her first idea—one of hundreds that she’d already tried.

“I train to heal. To mend. To fix.”

Silence.

“To heal my sister?”

Nothing.

“To help my friends.” Their faces flashed through her mind, but her soul didn’t care about healing. Healing was what she did, but it wasn’t why she did it. Revelations went far deeper than your aspect and life experience, which made perfect sense in Relia’s case. She’d never asked for this aspect; her grandmother had chosen it to keep her alive.

Relia might have still chosen healing in a different life, but how could she know for sure? Her aspect and condition had shaped her for so many years, and she struggled to imagine anything else.

“I train . . . to survive. To live. To be happy.”

Again, her soul didn’t answer Happiness wasn't some distant goal for her. If anything, it felt like a long-lost memory.

Relia thought of her sister, lying helpless in that temporal coffin. She’d seen her share of death, but that sight still haunted her thoughts. It kept her awake at night, and it struck her like a Missile when she woke.

Death was swift and final, but this came slowly. Worst of all, Elise’s fate rested on Relia’s shoulders. And unlike a battle with live opponents, this was a constant struggle she couldn’t escape.

Even her condition didn’t compare. Elend had taught her to rest and relax, because life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t actually live it. But this was different. If she failed now, she was taking  her sister’s last chance

“I train because I’m scared to lose Elise. And everyone else I care about.”

Those fears might be real, but they weren’t her revelation. She’d learned how to accept death a long time ago. Lyraina had seen to that.

“I train because I’m scared to fail.”

That one sounded more like Akari or Kalden. There was more to life than winning; Relia understood that fact far more than any of her teammates. In fact, she’d been ready to lose the qualifying rounds last year for a chance to get closer to her sister.

She wasn’t afraid of failure. She was afraid to become a bad person.

And as always, that brought her full circle, back to the beginning.

“I train to do what’s right.”

Her soul vibrated in her chest like a struck gong, and the pressure built like a geyser waiting to erupt. It felt so close, but it wasn’t enough.

“To be a good person.”

The vibrations stopped, and the pressure grew weaker. Her father’s words echoed inside her head, as they always did:

“There’s never been a perfect specimen of human morality, and there never will be.

He was right about that. Her parents were undoubtedly bad people, but what about the Darklights and the rest of her team?

Elend had locked Glim away. Not just for a year, or ten years, or even a century. He’d done it forever. He’d always been obsessed with immortality, and he hadn’t been willing to risk that goal for anything.

Irina had been an assassin who was ready to kill Elend without a hint of remorse. Akari had betrayed her sect for an aspect, and Kalden was equally ruthless, following any road that led to victory.

But they were trying, weren’t they? They’d all gotten better over time. That was more than Relia could say for her father. He had a long list of excuses, and each one seemed like a piece of a larger plan. A plan with a long body count.

Relia clenched her hands into fists, digging them into the mat beneath her. What if this was all his fault? What if she had the right revelation all along? What if her father’s words made her doubt herself?

Or what if he was right? What if Relia was the stubborn one? He was undoubtedly trying to manipulate her, but that didn’t make him wrong. On the contrary, so much of what he said rang true.

Angels above. This would have been so much easier if he just lied to her about everything.

Relia pushed those doubts aside and shouted the words, “I train to do what’s right!” Her voice echoed through the high ceilings, and her mana mimicked her own struggle, trying to break through the barrier with all its might.

But of course, it wasn’t enough.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside her room, followed by a sharp knock on her door. That had to be Ashur. The palace staff didn’t step so confidently through the halls, and Clara never visited her at all.

Sure enough, her father called her name a second later.

Relia didn’t answer at first. She just kept breathing hard and resting her head against the foot of her bed. Her false revelation echoed through her mind like a song on repeat, and it sounded more like gibberish than words at this point.

The brass handle spun downward, and the wooden door swung several inches into the room. Her father still acted awkward at times like this, as if he half-expected to find Relia lying naked in her bed. Despite all his confidence and power, he was still just a person.

Ashur must have seen her sitting there, because he pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. “It’s time”

Time? Her eyes widened, and she got to her feet. Her father had warned her this might happen soon, but the reality still hit her like a train.

“I can’t,” she said. “I still haven’t advanced.”

“Elise’s condition is getting worse,” he said. “She’s losing mana every day, and that will make her harder to heal.”

Relia drew in a sharp breath, and her throat felt as barren as the room itself.  “Does it have to be today?”

“Technically, no. But we need to accept the truth—you probably won’t reach the Master right now.” His words fell between them like stones tossed down a drain. “A few more days might not matter for you, but they’ll make a world of difference to her.”

As usual, he was right. Relia had been spinning wheels since the start of the school year. She’d reached the mana threshold, and she’d refined all her techniques. She’d even learned to heal other people with Moonfire after dozens of hospital visits.

But healing wasn’t the same as resurrection. Her grandmother had been crystal clear on that point.

“You can do this,” Ashur said in a soft voice. “Lyraina wasn’t a Master, either.”

Was that supposed to make her feel better? Her grandmother had spent decades training her Moonfire. She’d also ascended from her own homeworld, destroying her physical body and rebuilding it with mana.

His shoes clicked against the marble floor as he closed the distance between them. “Do you need time to get ready?”

Relia shook her head. Some mana artists swore by their pre-fight rituals. Kalden liked to read about the upcoming conflict, hoping to find some last-minute insight that gave him an edge. Either that, or he liked to meditate and visualize his success.

Arturo listened to music—often the same song on repeat. Zukan got on his knees and prayed to the Angels. Akari made two or three trips to the bathroom to get her bladder into "perfect fighting shape."

But those sorts of things had never worked for Relia. Her pills had been her comfort objects for most of her life. After that, she’d relied on her friends to help her relax. Now she had neither.

The fact was, she wasn’t ready, and another hour wouldn’t make a difference. So she followed Ashur through the arched doorway of her bedroom, and through the residence of the Palace Prime. Her boots echoed against the marble floor, and each step felt like a countdown.

The wooden doors to Ashur’s office loomed before them, ornate and imposing with their brass handles. Her father paused before pressing his hand to the security panel. “Whatever happens next, I’m proud of you.”

He thought she was going to fail. Why else would he say this? Or was it reverse psychology? Was he trying to light a fire inside her?

“You were right about my training methods,” he said. “My approach was wrong, and you were right to question me. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things . . .”  He looked up and met her eyes. “I trust you to do whatever you think is right in there.”

Despite everything, a sudden warmth kindled inside Relia’s chest. She'd spent months seeing her father as the enemy— a monster who would do anything for power. And maybe that was true. But in that moment, the raw emotion in his eyes looked far too real.

I can do this, she told herself. Her revelation might still elude her, but that didn’t matter. She was born to heal, and nothing would stand in her way.