CHAPTER 55: DOMAIN ALIGNMENT

  The training courtyard buzzed with its usual low-grade chaos when they arrived.

  Steel rang, sharp and rhythmic.

  Practice blades colliding with more enthusiasm than precision.

  Wings snapped open and shut overhead as someone took off too close to the arches, earning a shouted reprimand that went mostly ignored.

  Nearby, a group of Sentinels argued loudly about footwork while doing absolutely none of it.

  Their swords rested against their shoulders as if theory alone would save them in a real fight.

  Just another normal day.

  Suryel absorbed it automatically, cataloging motion and sound the way she always did.

  The noise started to ground her.

  The movements now anchored her.

  The activities in the training courtyard were now easier.

  Even expected.

  Familiar.

  She was getting used to all of it.

  Azriel stood near the far edge of the courtyard, halberd resting against his shoulder.

  His posture was loose in a way that suggested he could disarm someone without moving his feet, gaze unfocused yet alert.

  As though he were waiting for nothing and everything at once.

  Helel clocked him instantly.

  Yael did too.

  Suryel followed a heartbeat later.

  “Az?” Yael asked, polite but wary, his attention already splitting as Michael’s glare fixed on the arguing Sentinels. “Why are you here?”

  Michael answered without turning, eyes still on the group. “I asked him to work with Suryel today. While you two work with me.”

  He watched the Sentinels a moment longer, clearly debating whether to intervene now or let embarrassment finish the lesson for him.

  Helel squinted, head tilting. “Work with you on what, exactly?”

  Michael finally looked at him. “Your bad habits.”

  Helel broke into a delighted laugh. “Wow. Rude.”

  “No. Accurate.” Michael replied flatly.

  Azriel exhaled softly. “Visualization and weapon alignment.”

  He stepped away from the wall, motioning with his halberd as he turned. “Come, Suryel. With me.”

  Her stomach dipped, like stepping onto unfamiliar stairs.

  She swallowed and followed anyway.

  They moved to a quieter corner of the courtyard, away from the worst of the noise but still within sight of the others.

  Azriel stopped, planted his halberd into the stone with a soft, resonant click, and turned to face her fully.

  “I was told you remember your staff.” He said, brow lifting slightly. “Is that true?”

  “Technically.” Suryel replied, rolling one shoulder. “Yes. I think so.”

  He nodded once, satisfied. “Close your eyes.”

  No preamble.

  No reassurance.

  She did it anyway.

  “Breathe slow.” Azriel instructed, stepping closer. “Find your center.”

  She inhaled.

  Exhaled.

  Felt her weight settle through her feet into the stone.

  Azriel circled her like a patient teacher, footsteps measured. “Visualize and draw out your polearm.”

  “Polearm?” One eye cracked open.

  “Your staff.” He clarified, gesturing for her to close her eyes again. “Stick, if that’s easier.”

  She snorted under her breath and obeyed, counting her breaths, grounding herself the way Yael had taught her.

  The courtyard noise blurred into a distant, manageable hum.

  Time stretched.

  Minutes felt like hours.

  Her shoulders ached from stillness, her mind from concentration.

  “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to see.” She muttered, frustration seeping through. “Where does it come from?”

  “Your Abode.” Azriel answered simply, twirling his halberd with effortless control.

  “All I see is ceiling.” She grumbled, her eyes snapped open.

  “Do not imagine your room.” He said, coming to a stop. “That’s where you keep failing.”

  Her brow creased. “Then what am I supposed to see?”

  Azriel shrugged. “Nothing.”

  She stared at him.

  Unimpressed. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Feel where the object exists.” He replied evenly.

  Silence fell.

  Her breath hitched as she searched inward, reaching for something solid, something anchored, something that wouldn’t slip away if she touched it wrong.

  Nothing answered.

  “Ugh. I can’t.” She groaned and dropped into the dust, frustration winning.

  She rubbed her hands over her face and let herself fall back, staring up at the sky. “I can’t see it. I can’t even feel it.”

  Azriel nodded once. “Alright, stop trying.”

  She blinked up at him, hope flickering. “So what now?”

  He extended the base of the halberd and she grabbed it.

  He helped her to her feet. “Tell me this, have you explored your Abode?”

  “My room?” She echoed, brushing dust from her clothes.

  Her mouth twisted as her gaze flicked briefly toward Raphael settling to the side of the courtyard, checking in on some other out-patients in the distance. “Uhhh… No.”

  “Of course you haven’t.” Azriel said without judgment. “That explains everything.”

  He turned, staff sweeping through the air in a smooth arc.

  The courtyard dissolved.

  Cool light bloomed around them as the Lapis Lazuli corridor reasserted itself, polished stone reflecting softly.

  They stood outside her Abode.

  Suryel stared, her mind catching up.

  “Hold… On.” She said slowly, peering down the endless corridor. “You’re telling me we didn’t actually have to walk all the way to the training courtyard?”

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  “We don’t.” Azriel replied, lifting a brow. “You do. Until you learn folding through the space would be… brain cardio. This is lesson one.”

  She groaned.

  Loudly.

  “I ran.” She complained, throwing her hands out. “Multiple times. We were late. Raphael gave us the look.”

  “And familiarization with your surroundings is the first step.” Azriel said mildly, a faint smile appearing, seeing that she was willing to learn. “How else would you gather and place your intent?”

  He opened the door.

  Suryel instinctively braced and glanced up.

  Azriel caught it and shot her a deadpanned look.

  She stepped inside carefully.

  The ceiling wasn’t dark.

  It reflected the sky.

  Bright.

  Open.

  Gentle.

  Blue.

  Her shoulders loosened before she could stop them.

  “Go on.” Azriel said, leaning against the wall, not commenting. “Learn where your things are.”

  She hesitated just inside the threshold.

  “Your goal is to find your staff.” He added lightly.

  Then, with a knowing look he added pressure. “Or I will tell Raphael you didn’t sleep in your room.”

  Her head snapped around. “That’s blackmail!”

  “Yes.” He produced an hourglass through space and flipped it neatly with a barely concealed smile. “You have until the sand runs out.”

  She gasped, glared, and bolted.

  Cabinets flew open.

  Sideboards rattled.

  Chests she’d never touched revealed contents she barely registered.

  Shelves she’d avoided felt less threatening under pressure.

  At first, her movements were frantic, breath sharp, hands shaking.

  Then something shifted.

  The space stopped feeling foreign.

  Not safe.

  Not comfortable.

  Mapped.

  Her eyes snapped right—

  A long chest near the far wall.

  She dragged it open and pulled out a six-foot staff, breathless and triumphant.

  Her face gleamed once, reflected on its metal surface.

  It felt cold and yet warmly familiar in her hands.

  “Found it!” She spun toward him. “I got it!”

  Azriel smiled faintly as the last grain of sand fell. “Good. Let’s go back.”

  The corridor reasserted itself.

  Back in the courtyard.

  Azriel reclaimed his position.

  “Your weapon is not an extension of your will.” He said, spinning his halberd before grounding it in a single, deliberate step. “It is an extension of your balance. Instability will show.”

  He stepped to the side. “Now show me.”

  She copied him.

  The staff wobbled.

  He leaned on his weapon. “Again.”

  She tried harder.

  The staff rebounded and smacked her square in the face.

  Across the courtyard, Helel’s laughter rang out.

  “Helel!” Michael barked.

  “Don’t tease her.” Yael added.

  “Sorry.” Helel called, still snickering. “That was just funny.”

  Michael chased him. Helel screamed. Yael did not give him assist.

  “Suryel.” Azriel called firmly. “Focus.”

  “Right.” She said, sheepish.

  They trained until her arms burned and the courtyard noise folded back into itself. Azriel drilled rhythm and basics until she barely needed correction.

  Nearby, Helel and Yael sparred Michael, chaos colliding with discipline.

  At last, Azriel lowered his halberd. “That’s enough. Good job for today. Return your staff.”

  “Okay.” She said, turning to a run.

  His hand settled briefly on her shoulder. “Without going back to your room.”

  He returned his own weapon through a slit in space.

  Her pulse jumped. “Oh.”

  “Right.” She closed her eyes.

  She thought of the chest. The weight. The space left behind.

  She reached toward that emptiness.

  The air hummed. She released the staff.

  It vanished soundlessly.

  She jerked her hand back, breath caught, then opened her eyes, stunned.

  Azriel watched, quiet pride flickering.

  “Ohhh…” She whispered, then grinned and bounced. “Oh yeah! I did it!”

  “Yes, congratulations.” He said, patting her head. “That’s ownership.”

  Yael hurried over, beaming. “I saw that! You did it!”

  “And you didn’t lose your fingers.” Helel added, ruffling her hair. “Good job, little sunbird.”

  “Helel.” Michael said dryly, arms crossed, but his mouth was curving. “You’ll scare her into folding wrong through the corridor.”

  For the first time since waking beneath a ceiling that felt too vast, Suryel didn’t flinch.

  The world felt exciting.

  She wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

  But she was present.

  —

  That night, Helel was polishing his longsword in his Abode.

  An eye to the door which was open.

  He heard a noise outside at the corridor.

  He tilted his head, amused. “Must be Suryel. Scared of the ceiling again?”

  He waited.

  No footsteps.

  Still… He heard breathing.

  So he stood.

  Puzzled.

  Yael was crouching outside the door.

  Helel raised a brow. “What are you doing?”

  Yael smiled sheepishly when he looked up. “I was worried she might not be sleeping well. I wanted to give her space.”

  Helel sighed smiling.

  Then he hauled Yael up. “You could’ve knocked. Come in. I’ll make us some coffee.”

  They sat in silence.

  The creaky kind.

  Helel returned to polishing his blade over his desk.

  Yael sat politely on the armchair, holding an overly sweet coffee with both hands.

  They were both… not quite staring.

  Not quite resting.

  Time passed.

  No familiar uneven cadence or noise arrived that would have announced Suryel long before she reached either of them.

  Helel frowned.

  The polishing slowed.

  He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

  He paused, listening harder.

  Still nothing.

  Then Yael rose quietly.

  Movement smooth and deliberate.

  He crossed the room and stepped closer to the corridor.

  He leaned forward just enough to peer down its length.

  Empty.

  Silent.

  The light along the Lapis Lazuli stone didn’t flicker.

  Nothing crossed between spaces.

  Yael glanced back at Helel who spoke. “Do you want to check on her… Just in case?”

  They exchanged a look.

  Then they moved.

  At Suryel’s door, Yael knocked softly. “Suryel? It’s us.”

  No answer.

  Helel peered in. “Sunbird?”

  The bed was empty which spiked panic.

  Immediately.

  “Did she run again?” Helel hissed. “Or something happened. Let me call Raph—”

  “Wait.” Yael said, holding him in place, hearing a subtle noise, he scanned the space with his eyes, stepping in. “There.”

  Suryel slept curled beside a side cabinet, wrapped in fleece, breathing slow and even.

  Helel exhaled so hard it nearly knocked him off balance.

  He held his chest and tapped Yael’s shoulder. “Oh. That scared me.”

  The tension drained out of him all at once, leaving only relief and something softer underneath. He crouched beside her immediately, movements careful now, reverent.

  “You’re going to get a cold.” He muttered, quieter, already sliding an arm beneath Suryel’s shoulders and another beneath her knees. “Why do you love sleeping on the floor?”

  He lifted her easily, adjusting his grip when she instinctively shifted closer, her forehead pressing briefly against his chest.

  His voice dropped to a whisper, smiling at Yael. “I’ve got her.”

  Yael prepared the bed.

  He fluffed the pillows with practiced care, arranging them just the way Suryel liked.

  Helel crossed the room and lowered her gently onto the mattress.

  Suryel stirred faintly, brow creasing, but she didn’t wake.

  She was muttering something gibberish they didn’t catch, eyebrows in a knot.

  Yael drew the blanket up over her, tucking it securely around her shoulders.

  His hands paused, then added a pillow under her arm for comfort.

  They lingered for a moment.

  “She’s doing okay.” Helel said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

  Yael nodded, resting a hand briefly on the edge of the bed, the other rested on Helel’s shoulder. “Yeah, she will be… We will be.”

  They stood there a moment longer, silent again.

  This time, the quiet didn’t creak—

  Also cherishing a moment the brothers love and will protect.

  Author’s Note:

  Two brothers and a cat at the end of chapter.

  LOL.

  Co-parenting.

  The cat is Suryel.