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Triphosa what she had
seen the other night. Firinne was never good at putting on a face,
and Triphosa recognized it instantly.
    “ There’s something else…isn’t
there? C’mon, you don’t need to be afraid…you can trust me. Don’t
you know that by now?” Triphosa said.
    “ You have to swear you won’t utter
a word of this to anyone!”
    “ I swear I won’t! You know me
Fir…”
    Firinne took a long pause to
contemplate the decision to abandon her silence. In that moment,
she sat still as if she was waiting for some unknown force to
intervene. There was only stillness, and the eyes of her best
friend, which were stuck on Firinne’s mouth — waiting for something
to slip out.
    “ One night, and after a long day
of bitter silence between us, and I…I climbed into bed for the
night. He was asleep next to me, so I laid there…just staring at
him…lost in my own thoughts. I saw something strange and now… the
more that I think about it…“
    “ What Fir? What did you
see?”
    “ Just as I was about to close my
eyes, I saw a wisp of black mist peek out from the back of
Cyneric’s neck. I tried to convince myself that it was just my
imagination, but Triphosa, I know what I saw. I know it was real, I
just don’t know what it means…or what I should do.”
    “ I can’t believe what you’re
saying. The implications of this…and what it could mean for Citrine
are ruinous. It can’t be. I know Cyneric hasn’t been himself, but
there is no way that he let the Blacken get to him. He’s far too
strong for that. And his love for you…” Triphosa said.
    “ We met each other when we were
young and fell deeply in-love. I feel like I know him more than I
know myself. The memories I have with him are like my memories with
you…the only reason I can think of for a darkness to have attached
itself to him is his parents and their past.”
    It was well known that Cyneric,
like Triphosa, had lost his parents at a young age. The difference
for Cyneric, was that he knew exactly where his parents were. The
Crivinnes were never ideal parents. They were always fighting with
one another, coming home intoxicated, and leaving Cyneric to watch
his siblings. Sometimes they abused Cyneric which had left a
permanent scar in its wake. After The Ascension and The Numbing,
the Crivinnes went with the Blacken gladly, with no thought of
leaving their eldest son to survive on his own at the age of
eleven. If that abandonment wasn’t enough, they took his siblings
with them in order to indoctrinate them, at a very young age, into
the endless power of Blacken that would be theirs if they so chose.
From what Cyneric had told Firinne, the last year that followed
after his family had abandoned him, he became a seething and
reckless adolescent. He was either constantly in trouble with the
Citrine guards, or he was at the tavern drinking Fia’s blood.
Firinne knew that she had saved Cyneric from himself and a path
that would have been an endless abyss of ruin for him. In the
confines of their entanglement, he would empty his soul out upon
Firinne. She was his keeper. The bond between them was
indisputable. They were insatiable.
    “ Maybe he’s fallen back into the
pain of his past. It would make sense that he would shut me out of
it. If he’s become so lost in the darkness that the Blacken is
attaching itself to him, then I have to do something. I can’t bear
to lose him. But what can I do? He will barely look at me much less
ta—
    Triphosa interjected. “I will talk
with him. Maybe someone who is in a more neutral position will have
a better affect on him. He won’t feel so threatened. We can’t waste
any time on this, so I will find him tonight and see if I can get
him to open up to me a little. A little might be just
enough.”
    “ Would you? I don’t know what I
would do without you Triphosa.”
    Triphosa didn’t have to say
anything. She stood up, gently kissed Firinne’s forehead, leaving
her there to sit by the ivy