Free Web NovelChapter 368: The Shallow Side
Liam is standing in the garden, under direct sunlight. To anyone else, he looks like a man enjoying the warmth after two weeks without it. To Linus, he looks like a man carrying something very heavy.
"Hey." Linus approaches. "Are you alright?"
"No." Liam answers, without turning his head.
"Are you blaming yourself?"
Liam scoffs and turns to face him. "You know damn well I am, Dad. It was my fault she is unconscious right now. My fault we needed her mana in the first place. We kept drawing on her, kept pushing, when she had no access to it herself."
His voice climbs as he speaks, until the last word comes out as something close to a shout.
"She almost died." His voice drops to barely above a whisper.
"Because of me." He adds.
"Because of my incompetence." He chokes on the last word.
Linus takes a breath. Liam is his son, and in many ways he is exactly like Linus. But he is also Miranda’s son. His emotions have a way of getting ahead of him.
"I cannot tell you not to feel guilty. What I can tell you is that it was not your fault. I was there when she made the decision. She knew the risk. She held back until the very last moment, and she made the choice herself. And if she had not done it, we both know the storm would have returned."
"So stop blaming yourself for something that was never in your hands to control."
Liam says nothing. He knows his father is right. He also knows he is going to carry that pale face in his mind for a very long time. Possibly for the rest of his life.
Just like you’re feeling guilty about his death.
A whisper. Barely there.
Liam goes still.
The corruption magic has been purified. He was there when it lifted. He felt it leave, felt his own head clear in the aftermath. So why is he hearing this? And whose voice is that?
He remembers what Theo said. That the corruption magic did not create the guilt. It only amplified what was already there.
Which means this voice is his own.
Which means...
"Liam?" Linus steps off the patio and puts a hand on his son’s shoulder, concerned by the silence. "You seem somewhere else. Are you alright?"
Liam lifts his face and looks at his father.
"I have something to tell you." He says softly. Almost like he is afraid of the words.
"It was I, who killed Matthew."
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Maeve is sitting beside Theo’s bed, Julian across from her in the chair he dragged in from the corner. Her eyes keep drifting back to Theo’s face.
"She looks so peaceful." Maeve says softly.
"That is because she is resting." Julian responds.
Maeve glares at him. "Really. That is your contribution."
Julian chuckles. "What can I say? This is not the first time she has done something like this."
"Hey." He adds quickly, catching Maeve’s expression. "I am worried. I am. It is just, we have Teacher Theo. He would never let her be in more danger than necessary." He smiles, easy and certain.
Maeve swallows hard.
Oh, Julian.
She cannot say anything to that. From where he is standing, he is right. His confidence in Teacher Theo is completely reasonable and completely earned. But Maeve knows something Julian does not, and that gap makes the worry sit heavier, not lighter.
"Hey, hey, hey." Julian leans forward as far as his wounded leg will allow when he sees the shine of tears in Maeve’s eyes.
"I just told you not to worry. Why are you more worried now?" Julian takes her hand and strokes the back of it gently.
Maeve sniffles. "I’m sorry. I cannot help it."
Oh, Julian. If you only knew.
"Maeve." His voice drops to something softer. "You need to rest too. Go rest. I will stay here with her." freēwebnovel.com
His feelings toward Maeve have been growing steadily and he knows it. He knows he will have to do something about it at some point. But not now. Not when she is like this.
Maeve looks at him and sees it clearly in his eyes, the way she always has. It is one of the things she has been quietly worrying about. She knows she likes him. She has known for a while now. But...
She nods. "I will come back later and relieve you, alright?"
Julian nods.
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Maeve closes Theo’s bedroom door with a soft click. She exhales, the exhaustion visible in every line of her face and the way she holds herself.
She presses her forehead against the door and closes her eyes.
Julian. I like you too. No. I love you. It is just... am I enough for you? I am nobody. An orphan. You could do so much better than me. She takes a slow breath, straightens herself.
I am sorry.
And she walks away.
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Sonia and the other Vaelins are gathered in the living room, caught somewhere between staying and leaving, neither option feeling quite right. Sonia is sitting beside Elder Loujt. Dae and Huri are standing, not quite settled anywhere.
"I..." Sonia starts. Then stops.
Elder Loujt looks at her, blinks once, and says, "Me too."
Sonia’s eyes snap to his. "You too? You also drew on her mana?" Her eyes widen when he nods.
His expression is grim.
"I recognized her mana signature the moment it appeared. The same signature as the storm. So I thought, this is it, and I just pulled it in. Blended it with mine and kept going."
He sighs. "It never once occurred to me that the others might be doing the same thing. Or that it was coming from her blood."
"I should have known." He says quietly. "She told us she had lost access to her mana. She said it more than once. Clearly, repeatedly. And still I just..." He stops.
"Uncle, you can heal her too, can you not? Water can heal, right? You could help." Sonia is half hoping that Elder Loujt will nod and make everything simpler.
"I wish it is that simple, Your Highness." Elder Loujt answers quietly. "Yes, Water heals. But I do not trust myself to examine her again."
Sonia frowns. "What does that mean?"
Elder Loujt sighs. "When I drew her mana, I noticed something. Her mana is extraordinarily pure. The purest I have ever sensed." He pauses.
He takes a slow breath before continuing. "And it amplified mine. Several times over. It made me want to keep drawing. To take all of it and make it my own."
He admits it to the floor.
Sonia’s frown deepens. "I do not understand. I drew her mana too. I blended it with mine. But I didn’t —"
"That is because you are Light and your intentions were pure, Your Highness." Elder Loujt cuts her off sharply.
Silence falls over the room.
"You what?!"
A voice cuts through the quiet like a blade.
Everyone snaps toward it.
Maeve is standing at the entrance to the living room, radiating fury.
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"It was I who killed Matthew."
Liam’s eyes are glistening.
Linus says nothing. He simply closes the distance between them and pulls his son into his arms.
"Everything is going to be alright, son. Trust me." He holds him there for a moment, one hand patting his back, before they separate.
"Come inside. It is cold out here." Linus steers him gently, but Liam resists, still rooted to the spot as though he needs to stand in the discomfort a little longer.
"I need to tell you about Matthew, Dad." Liam chokes.
"I know. And I am here for all of it. But come inside first, and then you can tell me everything. Come on." Linus keeps his voice steady, keeps coaxing.
He has an unreasonable fear sitting at the back of his mind that he cannot quite dismiss. Liam’s emotions are raw and uncontrolled, and the weather has already proven once today that it responds to things it should not. He does not want to find out if that connection runs both ways.
Liam lets himself be led inside. When they are both seated in the kitchen, he begins.
"I was twelve. Remember, Dad? So was he." Liam looks at his father with a sad smile.
"Yes. I remember. The two of you were inseparable. You had never met before and yet it took one afternoon and you were joined at the hip." Linus chuckles softly.
Liam laughs too, briefly. "Yeah. We were."
He takes a breath before continuing.
"It was the summer holiday. I was exhausted from all the classes Mom had signed me up for. Matthew came to cheer me up. We were at the lake, the one we used to swim and fish at. Just sitting on the side."
His eyes go distant. He is back there completely.
"He tried everything. Every trick he had. But I was too deep in my own sulk to let any of it work. Mom had told me I could not quit the holiday classes and I was furious. I ignored him. At some point I said to him, barely paying attention, that he should go swim and maybe I would join him."
Linus stays very still. He already knows the end of this story. Matthew Richton drowned that summer, at twelve years old. Liam was never mentioned. Not once.
Haven’t I got the full picture all this time?
"Matthew was not a strong swimmer, Dad. I taught him myself. Every time we played at that lake, he stayed on the shallow side. He never once went out to the deeper part. He was too frightened of it."
Liam’s voice drops.
"But that day I was so annoyed that I told him I might feel better if he swam out further."
Tears are running down his face now.
"He did it, Dad. He actually did it. And I forgot." His voice breaks entirely. "I forgot!"
"Claudia called and said that Mom had agreed to let me quit two of the classes if I came home right away. So I did. I shouted at Matthew that I was going back, and I left him there."
