writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

Tessani didn't remember falling asleep. He barely remembered trudging back to the inn and going to his room. He did recall, however, talking to Jindra on the way back. After they were both able to stand, she showed him the mark on her hand. It was as he'd glimpsed, and it looked like it had been burned into her flesh from the outside.

"It felt like it too," she confessed, her voice low. "Like the very sun itself was burning my skin, making this mark. She said my tyro will have one that matched, like the other half of a full symbol." She smiled a bit then and Tessani watched her expression changed. "I'm not sure explain how different it feels now. It just feels like I'm being pulled somewhere, and wherever that is, my tyro is. I just know I have to go there. Soon."

Tessani's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"You will, Shadowbinder," Zara called from up ahead and Tessani started, surprised she could hear them. "After your ritual, you too will understand."

Bel was the first one awake. It didn't surprise her to see Tessani's tent quiet and still, somehow shrouded in shadows despite the fact that he still slept. Outside the slowly brightening sky cast enough light for her to get dressed, buckling armor on piece by battle-worn piece. Very little of it was still shiny and new; she'd trained again and again in it, breaking it in until the wounded skin and soft places it rubbed were replaced by tougher, calloused skin. The straps and bands were still somewhat uncomfortable by the day's end, and yet, she felt naked without it.

The sun was draining and so Tessani took his time coaxing shadows cast from its light onto his skin, creating patterns off ready-to-cast magic, almost literally at his fingertips. He stopped when he felt that little tingle in his flesh that told him he was at his limit, that he could bind nothing more to himself without risking ... something. He was never certain what would happen if he pushed past his boundaries, and with no other shadowbinders in the Guild, no one was able to tell him either. He simply never decided to take the chance. He knew his limits would expand once he had a tyro, so there was no need to take the risk now. A little patience and his power would grow without forcing or chancing anything.

Only when he was ready did he don his cloak and leave the inn to travel out to the town gates.

"Not fully," the voice reminded him. "And yet that matters not to you. Why?"

Naj's nostrils flared. "Are you so blind to anything beyond what lurks with you in those shadows that you cannot recognize love?"

There was a moment of silence and then a deep chuckle, one that startled Naj more than anything. "No. But you, tyro, are so stubborn and proud that you would not admit such a thing until now."

The shadows had taken control. Tessani could no longer keep them at back and with that last hold broken, they swarmed, covering his hands and feet, crawling up over his neck and head, pouring across his face until finally, they seeped into the very whites of his eyes. Tessani screamed, back arching up off the floor as his hand clenched tight, crushing Naj's fingers in his own. Naj bit back the cry of pain that threatened to come, watching as the last bit of deep warm brown in Tessani's eyes was eaten by swirling darkness.

Tessani screamed again, the sound suddenly changing to an echoing howl, a sound that couldn't come from a human throat.

Tessani pressed his hands against his ears, knowing full well it wouldn’t drown out the insidious whispers. The voices, the shadows, they were in his head, in his skin, everywhere; he couldn’t escape them. Tessani let out a choked sound and swallowed it down immediately. Steeling himself, he gathered his will and fixed the roving shadows in place on his skin, the voices he couldn’t muffle entirely, and every day, they grew just a little louder, but for now he could still ignore them. He still had control of his will, his mind, and his body, and for now, he still had work to do.

Tessani sat, his back hunched, his head in his hands, and the shadows on his arms writhing. They moved freely now, only staying still when he willed them to do so.

If you listened to us, you could have your answers. Everything you want, if you accept what we offer.

Tessani pressed his hands against his ears, knowing full well it wouldn’t drown out the insidious whispers. The voices, the shadows, they were in his head, in his skin, everywhere; he couldn’t escape them.

At the end of the hallway, there was a door, ordinary and plain from this side. Tessani paused in front of it and listened. He heard voices on the other end, a small collection of them, but it was muffled enough that he couldn't make out a word anyone was saying.

Carefully, he eased the door a crack open and peered at the room beyond.

The first thing he saw was a crest hanging on above the opposite wall. It was the crest of the Sages Guild, the nonmagical guild of intelligence gatherers, historians, academics, and more.

Lord Kadel's bedchambers lead directly to their hall.

"We shouldn't have agreed to this," Jindra muttered as she darted behind the shadow of the outer wall of the manor house, landing beside Tessani before the guard walking the front perimeter saw her pass. "We could be arrested for this. Or worse."

Tessani managed not to roll his eyes at her. "You agreed; we both did. There no sense in complaining about it now, so either we get the job done or we return to Zara and tell her we couldn't even work together enough to get inside. Which would you rather?"