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“If you wish to hear my story, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint.” Brendin said quietly. Alessio dropped his gaze, trying very hard not to look disappointed.
“How so?” Jericho asked
“I know only fragments of it.” he replied uneasily “I remember little.”
Was it because of magic? Alessio’s memories had been selectively buried until he hadn’t even known he had powers until he suddenly activated them. His jaw tightened at the thought. A lot of his mind had been invaded and twisted so even when it was over there was so much damage. Even now he didn’t know for sure whether all his memories were really in place.
Alessio’s gaze slid back to Brendin, wondering if he was ok, and if there was anything he could do to help. Brendin had taken the time to help him when he panicked after Malvat’s mind-reading powers. But Alessio didn’t know what to say or what to do, nothing he could think of seemed particularly helpful or comforting. So he thought if he couldn’t do anything for Brendin at least he could give him space by shifting the unwanted attention.
“I heard a story once,” Alessio whispered, staring at the floor. “I can’t remember where but…”
He took a slow, careful breath and didn’t look up.
“There was once a Tree, one of the most slender and beautiful trees in the forest. It was taller than canopy of leaves around it so it could see the Sun.”
The fireplace flickered a little, whirling up almost as if reaching, but Alessio didn’t move.
“No matter how much it grew or how far it stretched it could never reach the Sun. But the Tree never stopped reaching. Every day, birds and animals wondered how it couldn’t be content with its own due, after all, it was a shining tree, so tall it was amazing to look at. However tall it

was it kept reaching for the Sun, even when it was the dead of night or raining too hard to see, the Tree always reached after the Sun.”
By now the flickering fire fluttered almost into shapes, its light refracting gold the corners of his dark eyes. For a couple seconds a dash of flames sputtered into branches, giving a low crackle like a lullaby. Alessio had an odd but familiar sensation burn through his bones, but he wasn’t really paying attention to it, his head still mostly hidden under his hood as he kept his arms wrapped around his knees.
“The Sun had light and warmth that simply wasn’t natural or possible for the Tree, but it was drawn to the Sun, so strongly it could never stop reaching. Then one day a storm hit,” Alessio said. Their campfire became even more agitated, snapping at the roof of the cave, almost spinning in circles. “A bolt of light hit the Tree, destroying it. It burned and burned for three nights before there was nothing left of it but charred ash.”
Abruptly the fire puffed out, then returned to a small, crackling flame.
“I was told there was a lesson there, other than not reaching for things too great for you…” He murmured, peeking up for a second, before giving a fractional shrug and curling in his legs uncomfortably.

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