Dreams and shadows

Slowly, Gael drifted awake. The last threads of sleep still clinging to him as he blinked up at a sky filled with glittering stars. “How long was I out…?” he muttered.
 
“At least an hour. Maybe more.”
 
The reply came from a strangely familiar voice that jolted him upright. Instinct took over as he spun toward the sound. Yet as he reached to where his bow should have been, his breath caught.
 
Sitting cross-legged across from him was himself.
 
Same eyes. Same hair. Same tired lines around the mouth. With a lazy, amused expression, the figure watched. One hand propped on his chin.
 
“Careful,” the double said lightly. “Wouldn’t recommend jumping off this tower. Nasty drop.”
 
“Who” Gael’s voice cracked as he reached again for the bow that wasn’t there. “What are you? Fey? Spirit?”
 
“Aah, that is the question isn’t it.” The figure rose in one smooth motion, stretching as though waking from a nap. “But let’s start a bit broader, shall we? What exactly are we? Just an elf? Something Fey touched? Or are we something else entirely?” He began circling Gael, hands clasped behind his back, humming thoughtfully. “Tricky one, isn’t it?”
 
“I meant you,” Gael snapped, irritation flaring. “What are you specifically?”
 
“No need to shout at yourself,” the figure chided, turning to face him again. “We’ve been doing far too much of that lately for our liking.” A sly smile tugging at his lips. “You know who I am. I’m you. Or at least a part of you.”
He paused, grin widening. “If you need proof, I guess I can start listing every little embarrassing secret we’ve ever tried to bury. Like that one time we accidently broke old man Terrin’s window and blamed it on Luke. Or when we had that little crush on Sheriff Edna”
 
“Stop.” Heat rushed to Gael’s cheeks. “Please. Just stop.”
 
“Oh look at that,” the double laughed, “our ears do turn bright red. Adorable.”
 
Despite himself, Gael felt the truth settle in his chest like a stone. He was indeed talking to himself. Somehow. “I must still be dreaming,” he sighed.
 
“There it is,” the figure said triumphantly as he gave a slight clap. “And before we even started arguing in circles. Progress already.”
 
“Progress,” Gael echoed flatly.
 
“Yes. For I am here to help.”
 
“Help,” Gael scoffed. “If this is what my dreams have become, I think I’m beyond help already.”
 
“Well,” the figure said, suddenly behind him, plucking a strand of hair with infuriating casualness, “we are the person who chose to spend years mastering the art of using a large stick to throw other sharp sticks at people instead of learning to command the raw power of nature that was literally offered to us. Face it, sanity has never been our strong suit.”
 
He stepped back into view, expression softening. “But that’s not the point. I’m here because we need someone to talk to. And let’s be honest, at the moment we don’t really have anyone else.”
 
“That’s not true. I have”
 
“Our friends?” the double cut in. “Sure, we could talk to them. But we know we won’t. For they’ve got their own burdens to deal with. So we won’t be adding ours to their pile. Still” He shrugged. “I can humour you. Let’s go down the list.”
 
“Let’s start with good Sir Alistan, shall we?” the double said, counting on his fingers as though reviewing a list. “Strong, capable, loyal to a fault and the one we’d probably call our closest friend. Who recently had to make the impossible choice of giving up his brother’s peaceful rest to save the woman he loves. And if that wasn’t enough, his own parents then turned their backs on him. Exiling him on pain of death.”
 
He tilted his head. “Or perhaps we could turn to his sister, gentle and caring Liliana. Who has been trying so hard to hold everyone together while dealing with everything her brother had to go through on top of her own heartbreak. Lady Viviene, the closest thing she had to a warm motherly bond, walked away from her. And now both are trying to navigate the return of Ileas. A kind man, broken by more than he lets on. Shouldering guilt that was never his to bear.”
 
The double sighed, almost sympathetically. “They’re all doing their best with burdens far heavier than they deserve.”
 
He paced a few steps. “Then there’s Luke. Brilliant, sharp minded and always three steps ahead. But after everything he’s endured lately, he’s just tired. Frustrated and quick to act because he’s terrified of losing more. Not out of anger for anger’s sake, but out of fear.”
 
“His sister then?” He shrugged. “Wiser and more understanding than any of them. Yet she has lost her home not once, but twice. And now as she’s trying to find meaning in the ashes, she’s making choices we don’t understand. Searching for belonging while at risk of losing herself.”
 
He spread his hands. “Which leaves Dadroz. Calm on the surface sure. Unreadable in that way that makes you wonder what storms he’s been weathering quietly. As he carries himself as someone who’s learned to keep his thoughts close.”
 
The figure leaned in, voice softening. “And the worst part is, we know that if we turned to them, they would listen. Even with everything they’re carrying, they would still try to help us.”
 
He rested a hand on Gael’s shoulder, gentle but unyielding. “And that is exactly why we cannot ask it of them.”
 
“Then what do I do?”
 
“We start,” the double said as he rose and sauntered toward the edge of the roof, eyes drifting over towards Tarn below, “by accepting what we are.”
 
“Then what are we?”
 
“Scared.”
 
Gael’s head snapped up at that single word. The double didn’t look back as he continued, voice quieter now.
 
“Lately, everything we’ve reached for has slipped through our fingers. Every plan, every dream, every attempt to do the right thing has come crashing down around us.”
 
The double lifted his left hand. “We tried to rise above our station. To become knights who protected the innocent and inspired others to follow. We failed and our loyalty was repaid with pain and blood for a crime we never committed.”
 
He raised his right. “We tried to be a bridge between mortals and the Fey. To build peace and understanding. Again we failed. Every Fey we meet looks at us with suspicion or hatred for reasons we still don’t understand. We were even hunted for it.”
 
“And lastly” He covered his face with both hands, voice dropping to a whisper. “We tried to unravel the truth of Vincent and the mask. To prove to ourselves that he and Reeva did not abandon us out of indifference. That we were in fact loved. And we failed there too. Due to our own shortsightedness.”
 
The double turned back toward Gael, stepping close once more. “And like any frightened child, we lashed out. At ourselves. At others. Desperate to pin the blame somewhere, anywhere. And we found just the perfect target, didn’t we?”
 
“Vincent,” Gael growled, his hands curling into fists. “If it weren’t for him, none of this would have happened. Wolves’ Rest wouldn’t have burned down. Those people we swore to protect, they’d still be alive today.”
 
The double smiled faintly. “And how do you figure that?”
 
“How is it not?” Gael shouted, seizing the double by the collar. “My whole life I’ve wanted to know where I came from. Who I am. I thought everything would make sense if I just solved the puzzle. But what did I find? Persecution. Hatred. Accusations for crimes committed by someone I’ve never even met. For a kingdom I’ve never known.” His voice cracked. “And when I finally put the pieces together and thought I’d get answers, all I got were more secrets. More questions. He didn’t even have the decency to leave a godsdamned note.”
 
The double waited a bit for Gael to gather his breath before gently slipping free of his grasp. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Finally putting words to the things that have been rotting away in our chest.” He turned away, shoulders trembling, hiding the tears gathering in his own eyes. “Despite everything, we still wanted to believe Vincent loved us as a son. But with every pointed finger, every accusation, that belief wore thinner and thinner. And then came the sphinx, the moment we finally understood. We weren’t a son. We were just a convenient piece in Vincent’s plan to restore Immerglade.”
 
Gael wiped at his eyes as the double continued, softer now. “And eventually we even started to doubt Sylvesse.”
 
Gael lowered his gaze, shame tightening his chest.
 
“We started to fear,” the double said softly, “that our friend and mentor hadn’t taught us out of kindness or because he saw potential in us. But because it was all part of Vincent’s design. So his tool would be sharp enough to serve his purpose. And in the end, we still failed.”
 
“What do I do?” Gael whispered.
 
The double’s grin was unexpected. “We stop.”
 
Gael blinked, “Stop?” he echoed, as if the word were foreign.
 
“We stop worrying about all of it. Vincent’s plans. His motives. What we think we know about Sylvesse. The king’s reasons. Ulther’s betrayal. None of it matters, because the only power anyone has over us is the power we hand them. The only one who truly holds power over us is us.”
 
He walked back toward the tower’s edge, looking out over the sleeping city. “So instead of drowning in what we think we know, why not focus on what we do know?”
 
The words struck something deep within Gael. A chord that had been silent for far too long. As for the first time in ages, the path ahead didn’t feel like a maze.
 
He rose and stepped forward. “I know what Sylvesse meant to me, what he still means. I know how his teachings and actions shaped me. I know that I care for my family and my friends, who have stood by me through everything. And I know that I love Dynia, who makes me stronger than I ever believed I could be.”
 
Gael stood beside his double. “We failed and we stumbled,” the figure said. “It happens. So… what do we want to do now?”
 
Gael closed his eyes. “I want to set things right.”
 
“It isn’t right that my carelessness cost my friends their homes and futures. So I will stand with them, as they stood with me.”
 
“It isn’t right that innocent people died, caught in a conflict they never chose. So I will do what I must to help them rebuild their lives in Tarn.”
 
“And the mask, I don’t regret giving it up to save Galiene. But the responsibility is mine. It isn’t right that my choices crushed the hopes of those who longed to see their home restored. So I will face Ulther. I will reclaim what was lost. Because that is my responsibility and my choice.”
 
The double smiled. “Then tell me, who are we really?”
 
Gael opened his eyes and spoke with a voice that carried. “I am Gael, son of Cassandra and Thomas. I am not a knight. I am not a noble. I am a child of the forest, a ranger of Lorewood. And I am done being lost in shadows of my own making.”
 
“Attaboy.”
 
With that, Gael opened his eyes to a new day.