“The rightful One and the girl with the violet eyes. The One, who walks through fire and does not burn. The girl, born of the twelve. Their fates mapped together become the fate of the Circle. Through their union, the birthright of the Diadochi is uncovered. The riches of Iskander, the power of Zeus, the means to vanquish the greatest enemies. The One, when it is his, becomes invincible.” [x] - the conspiracy of us by @maggieehall
There were so many guards in the castle, and Avery had been exploring halls and rooms trying to find the very one that had hurt Eamon. He was having no luck, for as soon as he checked one side of the castle, all the guards had changed positions. Discouraged, and still very much angry, the fae went outside, pulling his hood over his head to protect him from the cold.
He sat alone, still troubled by everything going on around him. He was worried about Rich, feeling his friend’s relationship with Enlil would cause him more pain than happiness, then there was Noah and Eamon trapped without protection and facing the possibility of more abuse, and now there were these creeping doubts. Was he doing the right thing? Eamon’s reaction to his plans of escape and Noah’s expression when he assumed Avery was leaving….it all bothered him. Part of him wanted to ignore it all and continue going–to escape no matter the price. But another part of him was oddly content where he was. He was safe with Jeramiah, happy with Rich and Ant…No, he couldn’t let his mind fall into that state. He couldn’t let himself accept this life. But he didn’t want to lose what few friends he had.
Frustrated, and now very much upset, the fae curled his hand into a fist and let loose his powers on the ground in front of him, watching rock and snow jut outward from the force of it. Another sweep of his arm and a desperate sob and the pieces of earth scattered, shooting away from him like small daggers. The move took a good deal of energy, and Avery slumped, panting lightly as he shut his eyes. He could hear the crunch of snow as someone approached, and merely glanced at them, unable to make out who it was in the dark. “Leave me alone.”
“Sometimes you want something you think you shouldn’t.” There was less than a foot of space between our faces. “You’re not even sure you understand it.” I could see the pulse pounding at his throat. “But not having it feels like you can’t breathe.” For the first time, I noticed my breathing. How shallow it was, how quick. He leaned even closer. “You want to find the tomb for more than blackmail. You like the idea of all that power. Of having control over your life.” … “You even want the power we could have together,” he went on. “Then you wouldn’t be alone. You liked it when we said something and people listened.”