Courage

The Aetos house no longer felt like a home Adam could envy.

It felt more like an army base. Dorian had put out the call, makers were arriving by the dozen to join his hunt for the Nightmare. The large manor house was filled with people, being organised into groups and given their orders. Adam was locked in the study again, but from what he could hear through the thick wooden doors, Dorian was sending out scouting groups to find where the Nightmare was hiding. Then he would unleash every maker in the city on it.

Cora had been taken upstairs. Iris had gone with her. The older healer had kept her composure at the sight of the writhing girl, though Adam noticed a quiver in her lower lip and how unsteady she seemed on her feet. She hadn’t looked at Adam, and that had hurt. She blamed him too. They all did. And why shouldn’t they?

Adam was slumped on the floor, his back against the locked door. He stared aimlessly at his own feet. He hardly remembered how he got there. Everything had felt like a half-formed daydream, fuzzy around the edges, with entire sections just missing completely. He remembered Dorian making chains that bound his arms to his sides. He remembered seeing other makers fixing the damage they’d done to D block. So much damage. And he remembered seeing the others, Ridley, Moan, and Gen, being led away by someone. Had it been Miss O’Connor? It couldn’t have been. His mind was filling in the blanks, adding snippets of his old life into the gaps his shock and trauma had taken from him.

Then he was here - again. Only this time, the room held no sense of wonder. It didn’t look interesting, or beautiful anymore. Adam wasn’t sure anything would look that way to him ever again. He felt detached from the world around him, drawn inward by his misery. A terrifying thought washed over him. Did the Nightmare do this? Had it started forcing him inside? Is this where Cora was right now, only much worse? He couldn’t even imagine how much worse it would have to be before he was left writhing on the floor, completely lost inside his own private hell. He let out a whimper, and felt tears streak down his face. How could he have let that happen to Cora? His first friend. His only friend.

Adam wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but the night was dark outside the arched windows before he heard the deadbolt slide open and he had to scramble out of the way as the door swung inwards.

He turned, expecting to see Dorian charging towards him, perhaps with a samurai sword raised high, ready to take revenge on the person who had caused his daughter so much pain. Would the Nightmare die with him? It was a harrowing thought, but surprisingly comforting. It left his mind quickly though, once he saw who was actually walking through the open doors.

“What are you doing here?” Adam blurted out the question without thinking. Miss O’Connor gave him the same look she’d given him hundreds of times before, when he’d disappointed her in class by failing to pay attention.

“Really, Adam? You should be thanking me. If I hadn’t alerted Dorian Aetos when you and your friends started demolishing D block - hadn’t convinced him that you were failing in your absurd attempt to stop that creature - you wouldn’t be in any state to talk to me at all.”

“You’re a maker.” Adam struggled to adjust his perception of the cold English teacher, this new information clashing with everything he thought he understood about her. Did it excuse her behaviour towards him? Had she been trying to help him, encourage him this whole time to reach his true potential? No, nothing Miss O’Connor had ever said or done could be mistaken for encouragement. The fact that she was a maker didn’t change who she was, or how Adam felt about her. She was still a cold, cruel person, and if she’d inadvertently saved them by convincing Dorian to step in, it had not been because she cared about any of them.

Miss O’Connor saw the disdain on Adam’s face and smiled. “Forever the victim, aren’t you Adam. Even when all evidence points to the contrary.” She paused to let her real feelings for him slip onto her face, just for a moment, to let him know how truly low her regard for him was. “Dorian has asked me to fetch you,” she said with clear pride, like the fact that he’d spoken to her at all was some great honour. “He wants a word, somewhere you can’t hide from the things you’ve done.” She turned and walked away, confident that Adam would follow. Her arrogance made him want to lash out in anger, to rage and storm until Miss O’Connor accepted that she could not always get what she wanted from him. But the instinct to obey authority was deeply ingrained in him. He shuffled after her, leaving as much distance between them as he could, his head hanging low, every bit the chastised child she saw him as.

She led him through the grand entrance hall, and up the main stairwell. Art lined the walls of the upper level, and an ornamental balustrade allowed for viewing the hall below. The beauty of House Aetos would have once taken Adam’s breath away. This night, his eyes passed over it without really seeing a thing. There was no space for wonder or the appreciation of beauty in his mind. His body moved on autopilot, while his thoughts punished him, over and over again, crueller than anything Miss O’Connor could ever say… coward… loser… monster… it’s all your fault… you did this to Cora… you did this to yourself… now all you want to do is hide… disappear… go deeper inside.

They reached a room off the second floor corridor. The heavy oak door cracked open and flickering light leaked out, the kind only fire can make.

Adam knew what they’d find on the other side of that door. His feet stopped moving, his breath held in his throat. He could already see it, in his mind’s eye. The writhing limbs, the rolling eyes, the silent scream that somehow caused all other sounds to shrink into the background. How could he face the sight of that again?

Miss O’Connor reached a hand out to push the door open, and Adam let out an involuntary groan. She turned and noticed that he’d stopped moving a few metres back. Her eyes furrowed as she returned for him, grabbing him roughly by the arm and steering him towards the door. “Consequences Adam, consequences. I tried to teach you, I really did, but you never listened.” She pushed the door open, and dragged Adam inside.

The fireplace was grand. The mantle was made from a dappled marble, and Cora had filled it with framed pictures. Some were of her and her family, the dark haired girl with the button nose changing ages with each frame, while Dorian and Elena remained just as Adam saw them now. A few of the frames held pictures of Cora with her friends. Adam recognised Ridley, Moan, and Gen, and wondered for a moment if they were all okay. Then Dorian stood up from his chair beside Cora’s bed, and Adam was forced to pull his attention away from the mantle, and place it on the scene around the wooden four-poster bed.

Cora lay at its centre. The covers were pulled up to her waist, leaving her arms free to writhe unrestricted. Beneath the covers, her legs continued to jerk and spasm, ruffling the sheets that Elena constantly worked to keep neat, whispering soothing words to her daughter they all knew she could not hear. Iris knelt on Elena’s right, closer to Cora’s face. She had a look of deep concentration and Adam could see the shimmers of light dancing over Cora’s body. She’s trying to heal her, Adam realised. Please, please let it work.

On the opposite side of the bed stood Dorian. He was not looking at Cora, or the women attempting to bring her back. He was staring straight at Adam. “Thank you Lilith, you can wait outside.”

It took a moment for Adam to realise who he was talking to, then he noticed the way Miss O’Connor flinched at the words, like Dorian had said something vile to her. She recovered quickly though, and gave him a curt nod before stepping backwards through the open door, drawing it closed as she left. Adam had never seen Miss O’Connor look so timid. She’d always been the most confident adult he’d known, even the school principal, Mrs Rochdale, treated her like she was someone important. Like she had influence and power beyond her actual standing as a school teacher. But Dorian had just dismissed her like a servant. And she’d obeyed like one too. If it wasn’t for the horror of the situation he was in, Adam would have laughed at that.

“I…” Dorian began, then seemed to reconsider his words. “You are not who you say you are, Adam Ledger. I know that now.” He looked at Cora, his brow furrowing like he was fighting to keep himself under control. Then he turned back to Adam. “Cora has always been… special. The signs were all there. None of her siblings could do what she could, as early as she did. Not even I…” He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “The Nightmare was the final proof I needed. Proof that Cora was indeed a Wildfire.” As if in response, Cora’s body gave a violent jerk, kicking the covers off her legs and making Dorian close his eyes again. “Everything had fallen perfectly into place. Everything, but you.”

Adam didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew Dorian blamed him for what happened to Cora, and that he’d want to punish him for it - is that why he’d brought him here? To force him to watch as Cora suffered? Was his punishment to be the guilt and self-loathing that only a person who has hurt someone they care about can know?

“It’s time to stop pretending,” said Dorian, the commanding nature of his voice starting to return. “If Cora is not the Wildfire, then there is still a chance.” He stared at Adam, as if seeing him for the very first time, taking in every detail, probing, searching, hoping to see something in him that could hint at the person he might one day become. Someone who doesn’t create monsters, but saves people from them instead. “I need you to undo what you’ve done, Adam. I need you to bring Cora back.”

A silence fell over the room. Even Cora’s writhing seemed to lessen, as if it didn’t want to disturb the moment, leaving Adam with no distractions as the full weight of Dorian’s request crashed over him. He’d been wrong. He hadn’t been brought here for some twisted form of punishment. He was here because Dorian was so desperate to save his daughter he was willing to try anything. Even asking Adam for help.

The silence stretched, the tension built, and all Adam could think of was the last time he’d tried to help Cora. How useless he’d been. More than useless. A liability. What happened to Cora was his fault, and he was convinced that anything he did to help her now would only end up making things worse.

“You are the Wildfire, you must be, or it would be you in that bed instead of my daughter.” There was a manic edge to Dorian’s voice that made the hairs on the back of Adam’s neck stand up. “So, be the Wildfire. Save her.”

Adam felt the panic rise within him, churning his stomach and bringing an acidic taste to his mouth. “I can’t… I don’t know… I’m not…”

“Not what?” Dorian dropped all pretence, and revealed just how much anger had been festering beneath the surface. “NOT WHAT! Not the Wildfire? Not the one who made that monster! Now you’re going to tell me it wasn’t you? NOW! When my daughter’s been left worse than dead!” He was shouting, raving, teetering on the edge of losing what little control he still had. “No, you don’t get to say that to me! You can bring her back. You will bring her back! Or I’ll string you up and leave you somewhere for your pet monster to find, and you can join Cora in whatever hell it’s trapped her in!”

“Dorian.”

The sound of his own name, spoken with an almost dreamlike softness, did to his anger what cutting off oxygen does to a flame. It withered and died, and what was left shocked Adam. The towering man, brimming with confidence and the calm certainty of a lifetime in command, was no more. Dorian’s eyes watered, his hands shook, and his face was a mask of pain. It reminded Adam of the first time he’d seen the Nightmare, how weak and vulnerable it looked. He’d felt pity then, and he felt it now. For all Dorian’s faults, he loved his daughter. He hadn’t abandoned her to fight the Nightmare alone. He’d believed in her. Just a little too much. Was that really such a crime?

“Let me speak to him. Alone.” The soft voice spoke again, and Adam realised it came from Iris. Had her voice always been so serene? Or was it something she could control? Another of her unique skills as a maker.

Without a word, Elena stood up and moved to her husband’s side. She took his arm, gently, lovingly, and Dorian let her lead him towards the door. Adam stepped aside as they passed. Dorian did not look at him again, but kept his eyes on Elena. Just as they were passing through the door, Dorian spoke, this time with the calm air of someone who has found some measure of acceptance. “The Wildfires have been gone for centuries… and they should have stayed gone.”

The door closed. Silence descended once more. Iris stood over Cora, but she no longer seemed to be trying to help her. She just watched her, eyes watering, displaying the same helplessness that Adam was feeling right down to his bones.

“Please, Iris, can’t you bring her back?”

Iris turned to him, a look of sorrow on her face. “I’ve tried Adam, many times. It’s like something’s holding her there.” She narrowed her eyes, and leant towards Adam, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. “I don’t think we can bring Cora back until your creation is gone for good.”

“But how do I stop it! I tried fighting it, we all did! It would have gotten me too if Cora hadn’t saved me. She saved us all. She was… she…” He choked on the words and felt warm tears begin to stream down his face.

“She was brave,” finished Iris. “From what I hear, so were you. Going back to help her instead of running away. That took courage.”

“But I was too late! I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t do anything. I was useless. A coward!”

“No, Adam.” For the first time, Iris actually sounded angry. “No. I do not accept that. You are no coward. I can see that clearly.”

“How?” Adam was all but begging. “How do you know I’m not?”

“Because you care about her,” said Iris, looking down at Cora, still writhing silently in her bed. “Cowards only care about themselves. They deny it of course, but to truly care about someone is an act of courage. To place another’s needs above your own. Another’s life above your own. Not everyone can… only the brave.”

Adam wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never considered being brave to have anything to do with how much you cared about other people. It was all about how unafraid you were, wasn’t it? About doing heroic things and facing danger without fear or hesitation. That was what courage had always been to him. Whatever Iris meant calling him brave simply because he’d wanted to help Cora was probably just her way of making him feel better.

“If that were true, then I wouldn’t have let this happen to her,” said Adam, unable to keep the bitter self-loathing from his voice.

“Being brave is not enough to stop it,” answered Iris as if it were an obvious fact Adam should have known already. “You will need much more than that. It will not be courage or sheer force that stops that poor creature. You will have to use something much more powerful.”

“Like what? Tell me Iris, please.”

She looked at him then, like a mother would their stray child who had wandered too far down a dangerous road, knowing they would have to find their own way home again. “The Wildfires weren’t just the most powerful makers you know. They were our leaders, our mentors… the very best of us. Do you know why?” Adam didn’t, and couldn’t even bring himself to hazard a guess. Iris gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, somehow making her look even sadder than before. “Neither do I, but they must’ve paid a heavy price, having an imagination that powerful. Maybe they were the best of us because their paths were the hardest.” She turned back to Cora, leaving Adam feeling more confused and alone than he’d felt in years - even more than the day his mum had left… “Time to go, I think,” whispered Iris, and it took Adam a moment to realise she was still talking to him. “Time to stop hiding.”

Adam couldn’t stay in that room a moment longer. He tore his eyes away from Iris, blinking furiously to clear his vision from the tears that ran heavily down his face. He sprinted from the room, leaving the door ajar behind him. There was no one on the landing, no one on the stairwell, and no one in the grand entrance hall below. The House of Aetos felt abandoned.

Just like Adam.