Page 62 of Journey to the Elderoak
Ava trudgedto the woods and found a fallen log in front of a small stream. Collapsing onto it, she let the tears fall. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t complete the training, would never make it to the Elderoak. And there was no way she could defeat a daemon queen. What was she thinking?
And what she said to Casimir; she regretted it the moment it left her lips. She never meant to hurt him, and knew he didn’t mean what he said either. Knew deep down he cared about her; had known it from the moment he took care of her in Saxumdale. He was so tender that night, so calm. That this brutish warrior could have such kindness and compassion astonished her. She knew the stoic general was a mask. A necessary face to wear to get the job done. To make tough decisions.
“I’m fucking everything up,” she mumbled, her head in her hands.
Something soft brushed against her hand and she raised her head to find Luna nuzzling her palm.
Are you alright?
“I don’t know,”Ava replied.“I’m…tired. And sad. And angry.”
You should talk about it,Luna said.
“What? Are you my therapist now?”
I don’t know what that means. But Jorrar’s coming up behind you.
Luna settled on the lush grass beside Ava as the crunch of leaves sounded, Jorrar emerging through the trees. He gestured to the log next to her. “May I sit?”
She nodded, turning back to the water and watching it trickle along the rocks. They sat in silence, not speaking for several long minutes.
“I heard you’ve been having nightmares,” Jorrar said at last.
“Yes.”
“Do you want to talk about them?”
She whispered, “Not yet.”
“Did you have one last night?”
She nodded again, wiping her eyes.
“War is a dreadful thing. It strips us down and reveals all our inner fears. The rawness of who we are at our cores. It changes us.”
She didn’t say anything as she listened.
“But…we get to decidehowit changes us.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You can’t go around it forever. You must go through it. Face it.”
She was silent for a long time, watching a butterfly as it flew from flower to flower, its turquoise wings shimmering in the dappled light.
“I feel…” she began, taking a deep breath. “Broken. Like every single part of me is scattered.” She continued to watch the water as she leaned forward on her knees and clasped her hands. “I keep trying to put the pieces back together before more fall off but there’s too many. Every time I reach for one, another one breaks. Ever since my mom died…I’ve been trying to patch myself back up.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “But I can’t. And now…after the torture, all of the deaths, that battle on the ship…”
She wiped her face and swallowed the lump in her throat.
Jorrar hummed his understanding. “There’s nothing wrong with being broken. We all are in our own ways. How else are we going to be remade if we don’t break from time to time?” He turned to face her. “You’re trying to put the pieces back in the same places they were before, but they keep falling off. Do you know why?”
“Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“They don’t belong there anymore. It’s time to try something new. To rebuild yourself. You aren’t the same person. You will never fit into your old self.”
“How do I even do that?”
“Everyone’s journey is different. Talk about it. Admit you’re struggling. Grieve. I also find that connecting with others helps. Doing things for those you love.” He gave her a knowing look and clutched her hand in between both of his, eyes turning to steel. “Who you are is not the things that happened to you, Ava. Who you are is what you do about it. What kind of person do you want to be? Decide you won’t let this war break you.”
