In the Shadow of Ribbons: Part 1-16: Erian: Held in a Memory
Scene 16 of 'In the Shadow of Ribbons', set Within Thalenra. Marnie's memories bring Erian sleepless nights. But his own carry a heavier burden.
The previous scenes are all saved Within Thalenra. Or go direct to scene one here, or scene 15.
(I think a head’s up is needed here. From this point, the story enters the darker territory I’ve always intended. It will go deep into areas I’ve only skimmed before - trauma, manipulation, gaslighting, and intense emotional distress. Read with care. )
Five months have passed. It is the Tiernath, the 3rd month of 1226 TCE, and the Trials of Classification are underway.
Erian couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t unusual given how difficult it was to shut off his awareness of everything around him. Sleep was something he always welcomed - sleep was the one place he could be sure of silence, most of the time. Tonight especially, when exhaustion had driven him to bed, sleep would have been welcome.
They were five days into the Trials of Classification, and as always, Erian had been invigilating from dawn until long after dusk. His fellow instructors might not have liked him, but even they couldn’t ignore his talent. At a time when every decision had to be incontrovertible, his ability to read the filaments was considered indispensable - of the several reasons for his continued assignment, it was the only one not routinely questioned by certain members of the faculty.
But it wasn’t Henton’s disdain that was causing Erian to toss and turn, nor that of the others - he’d long since come to terms with that. Other thoughts crowded his mind tonight. Like the lack of Marnie’s aura nearby.
It had been strange at first, sensing another’s aura on the other side of the wall he now faced. His previous experience of that had been in the dormitories before his own Classification, and that had been far from pleasant. But Marnie’s was comforting, and sleeping near it reminded him of falling asleep near his brother or mother. Presumably a benefit to the bond that had developed between them. There had been several times since she moved in when, after waking, he’d found himself drifting off again simply by focusing on her aura.
Her absence tonight was expected, and would occur several times over the next ten days. The Classified Adepts - even those that served as research assistants - were responsible for the Trial preparations. Every ritual circle, focus, and thread-path, was checked by them for damage and cleared of residual Thaum. They prepared the combat arenas and ensured consumed materials were replaced. Their work was reviewed each morning, and any delay in the Trials’ start was blamed on them. They also assisted with the Trials themselves, often as monitors, but serving as targets or rescue victims was common as well.
Marnie was expected to take part. Not that she minded, from what Erian could tell - he suspected she’d even volunteered for additional duties. Her enthusiasm for all things new seemed to extend to watching the Adept’s tests. Their paths had crossed on occasion, and her exuberance had been undeniable. He smiled, remembering the explanation she’d given when he’d had to mediate one of the Trials she’d been monitoring.
Even now, she hadn’t lost that odd way of describing Thaum - as if it was alive. He’d expected the instructors to take issue with it, but as far as he could tell, no one was suspicious of Marnie. If anything, she was… not ignored exactly, more… familiar to everyone. It was odd, but given the circumstances of her Academy entry, it was a relief.
If it had only been Marnie occupying his thoughts, he might have slept, even with the emptiness her absence made. But other things plagued him tonight. He lay, eyes open, trying not to think about the memories they’d collected since discovering how to clear those weave-crafted gaps. No matter how often he pushed them away, the worries they caused always returned.
It had taken them much longer to clear than Marnie had claimed - but not due to her. It was Erian that had delayed their entry into each one. After the first, when he had told Marnie that spiritual energy was used to create the weave, she had rightly said it could be a technique. What he had not told her was what he saw in the memory itself - Belaine using Empathica on Anton Eydel.
Seeing spiritual energy in the memories of others should not be possible - even for Erian. He had long since attributed his ability to see it in Marnie’s memories to the compatibility they shared. It wasn’t like the ribbons he himself saw - closer, in fact, to what Gerard had described when they first met. It was what Marnie would experience, he assumed, if she was an Empath. So, he had anticipated seeing it in the memories the gap covered.
What he had not expected, was to see that energy changing and shifting on its own. There was no direct link to Belaine that he could see, but some instinct was telling him that he caused Anton to feel deep loyalty and inferiority in that moment. And there was the end of the memory, when Belaine had confronted Marnie. He had been trying to instil her with fear, loyalty, resignation. She had felt some of that, but it had come from her not Belaine. What he had tried had failed to touch her.
But he had been trying to. He had been using spiritual energy to force a change in the emotions of another to control them. Just like...
He felt nauseous thinking of it again, and he rolled to his other side, the wall of Marnie’s room behind him. She had so kindly said afterwards that Belaine was a Weaver not an Empath, that he abused it, that Erian did not. He didn’t disagree. She was right. Of course she was.
Each of the gaps was like that. The larger ones held more - more evidence against Eydel and another Low Council member, and more instances of Belaine using Empathica freely on them and others. There had been enough that Erian had finally passed on what he’d seen to Meliath - whether Meliath had passed it on further he did not care to know.
It had been the smaller gaps that had slowed them down. For evidentiary purposes, they were effectively empty - brief moments of Marnie being instructed or punished, or Belaine angrier than usual. Time would pass, and he would, for no apparent reason, order her to forget. Marnie had soon grown bored of finding nothing, and hadn’t questioned when Erian repeatedly delayed a session. Which he was grateful for.
But Erian saw much more in those moments. In each one, Belaine had been using Empathica on Marnie - and it hadn’t affected her. Why Belaine felt the need to hide it baffled Erian. It was as if he thought Marnie was an Empath, despite all evidence to the contrary. Or perhaps he was masking his own failures? It didn’t matter. It was what he had been attempting that kept Erian staring at his ceiling on more nights than just this one.
The combinations of emotions he was trying to instil, what affect that could have on a person. Erian could not help thinking through to the conclusion of that effect, the state they would be left in. And now he knew how it was done. He had never hated his empathic sense before. He had feared it, felt overwhelmed by it, resented that it labelled him an Empath and the fear that brought. But now it had shown him how the power he never wanted, could be used.
Erian shut his eyes on those thoughts. When they reached the last gap, Erian had known he would be able to put it all behind him, treat it as a learning experience. He had simply learnt yet another reason why he must never lose control. Meliath would use what they found to track down Belaine and that would be an end to it.
But then...
The last memory they repaired had been a simple one, from early in Marnie’s captivity. Erian’s eyes re-opened as it replayed in his mind. Belaine had her repeating stitches on paper while he watched, idly attempting to shift what she felt about it. She continued, oblivious. Then, out of the corner of her eye, a man walked past the door, normally kept closed. The memory continued until the usual order to forget came. And that was all.
When Erian saw that man, almost a blur in the image, the strangest sensation came over him; a need to react, do something. Even now, he felt the urge to stand up and leave his bed. It wasn’t from within the memory, but from within Erian - a remembered reaction to a man he’d never seen before. It had unsettled him so much that he had lost his anchor, and Marnie had to push him out. She’d been so elated at having finished everything, she hadn’t noticed how Erian was acting. He’d stayed silent, barely listening, as she spoke of when she would show him a memory.
That had been six nights ago, and it was still keeping him awake. The man brought a restlessness that Erian couldn’t shake. He kept picking at it, trying to place where he must have seen him before, without success.
Giving up, Erian sat up and looked around his room. It was much tidier now, thanks to Marnie’s influence - she oddly wasn’t one for clutter. Most of the papers had returned to the study, and he’d had less reason to retreat to his bed of late. His gaze wandered to the etched circle on the floor, and paused there, automatically checking its status as he tried to forget about the man - and failed.
Was that the answer perhaps? Memory, after all, was a key facet of Mindscape use: to access and organise; to process and accept; to protect from outside intrusion. He was more neglectful of the third than he should be, relying heavily on his high resistance, and he had dealt with the second as much as he cared to. But perhaps the first could provide an answer here. If he had indeed forgotten the man, then searching from within the Mindscape would be far more efficient than another sleepless night trying to remember.
Still, he hesitated, listing the reasons he had no need to worry. He’d been in and out many times now, thanks to Marnie. It had been months since his last failed attempt. This would be the first time without her as a spiritual anchor, but he’d need to try it eventually. A plant with a strong aura could serve as the anchor point if he remained focused.
He slid from the bed to the floor, no longer letting himself hold back. This was standard Mage practice. His protections were in place, the circle was ready, and he had a goal in mind. He pushed away the fatigue and lingering worries, centring his gaze on a large-leafed plant atop the dresser. Smothering a yawn, he settled into his meditative position.
Still looking at the plant, its tendrils of spiritual energy drifting in place, he closed his eyes with that image in mind. He could still see those wispy movements in his mind’s eye, as he reached for - and through - his mind’s barrier, with a smoothness that surprised him.
In that moment of surprise, blurred by exhaustion, Erian didn’t notice that the fragile image had remained behind.
Erian’s Mindscape
| The azure wisp of Erian appears in the study space of his father, crafted from azure mist. The zigzags and splotches of Marnie’s last visit colour patches of the space, and the red cushion of the chair in front of the desk stands out against the pale blue around it. The wisp floats over it. |
Remarkable. I had seen some of this in Marnie’s, but she changes it so often that there was no sense of permanence to the colour. I will mention it to her.
| The wisp drifts from the chair and takes on a humanoid outline, its size growing to match the space to become a silhouette of Erian in azure light, its edges flickering. He walks to the bookcases that line what would be the walls of the study. They expand and stretch backwards. Paper labels adhere themselves to the shelves as he approaches, with words written on them in faded ink. The first case on one wall holds ‘today’, ‘yesterday’, while behind it are the names of months, locations, seasons. On the opposite wall are shelves with ‘lesson plans’ and ‘last times’, stretching on to ‘Thaumic techniques-advanced’ and ‘citizen responsibilities’. The third side - opposite the spirit moon garden - has names: ‘Meliath’, ‘Mother’, ‘Father’, ‘Gerard’ - ‘Marnie’. The silhouette pauses, a flicker of surprise at that last name. Then continues.
He walks past the memories of family, past other names: ‘Gretham’, ‘Anybia’… ‘Henton’, ‘Belaine’. Then come emotions. He runs his fingers along the books on a shelf labelled ‘restlessness’. Flickers of images rise and fade as he moves on. Another shelf: ‘unsettled’ - still nothing. The shelves shift around him, reacting - unconsciously, perhaps - to something avoided. A bookcase stands isolated. No different from the rest, crafted from azure mist. But the books it holds have darker covers, and the shelves are unlabelled. Erian stops; his hand falls to his side. |
That would make the most sense. Something I hid. Chose to forget. The emotion buried, the action left behind. Someone I ran from. If I buried it that deep, then it is best-
| A chime rings out; flat, dissonant. The cases fade, leaving the one behind. The study re-forms around it. Images flicker in the air above: Marnie’s memory; the man’s blurred outline; In bed, staring; energy shifting around Belaine. They drift closer, and Erian waves his arms through them. |
Alright fine, I can’t ignore it. But whichever one it is, I’m not reading the whole of it. I get to where I saw him and stop. I don’t need to remember more. I find the memory and leave.
| The silhouette’s light dims as it steps slowly toward the case, its flicker refusing to illuminate the books. One finger hovers near each in turn, until one image flares with a dark light. The finger moves on rejecting that flare. Images barely flicker from the other books. The dark light remains. |
I’ve been through that too many times. I remember who was there. He wasn’t. It’s a guess that’s all, a reaction to seeing Empathica.
| He runs the other hand over the shelf, lingering longer on all the books that do not shine with dark light. They disappear in turn until only the one remains. |
But if he is in there, and I don’t remember… then that is a weak point. I need to shore it up. I have to be sure.
| The case disappears; the book now held within the azure light. Erian sits, back straight, upon the red cushion of his father’s chair, and opens the book. Images appear within it, just above the surface of the page. Erian reads the memory, speaking quickly the events he remembers too well. |
It was the month of Varenth. The school year would end in a little over two weeks, and our time was taken up with the activities missed or school trips. That was where I was. A trip to an unstable Thaumic area that had been left that way so us students did not have to go to Galythien to experience one. Four days were spent taking readings, and experiencing its unstable energy, learning how to control Thaum, and what to avoid. There were ten of us with one instructor - and no guards. We were after all barely a day from Velcirra, what need for guards that close?
I had known the others my entire time at the academy. We were not close, but I was seen as no more than a little odd, given I had spent so much time with a Gethian, no more than that. And since Gerard had left I had tried to be more involved, as he’d suggested I do in his last letter.
I was with one of the boys, Perram, a Spirit Wielder adept, who had seemed to accept my attempts at friendship. We were packing away the equipment - the rest had already returned to camp. I heard the chimes before the screams - quick metallic ripples of fear, their echoes piercing. Discordant strikes of panic shattered through the air. We exchanged one look and ran.
I stopped short when we reached the camp. Our classmates were huddled in the centre, except for two - and Instructor Kydal - who were sprawled on the ground. Not moving. Three men surrounded them. I’m glad to say I did not hesitate to defend my classmates - the only thing I’m proud of that day - but little good it did me.
We all received combat training of course, in our second and third years, learnt to control the elements through foci. But I hadn’t continued that when I became an Adept. Nor did I have a focus. I valiantly attempted a strandform, intending to knock over one of the men. But there was no Thaum to sense. As I tried to understand why, Perram was pushed past me, and thrown into the centre, and I soon followed, as another man came behind us.
There were four of them now. And they were enjoying this. I could see oranges and reds mixing with sickly yellows and greys. I could hear the fear of my classmates behind me, Perram next to me, as I looked up at the men. They all held knives, were exchanging words, talking of the nice ‘haul’ they’d gotten, that it would go some way to clearing a debt. I felt a stickiness on my hand from where I had landed on the instructor. I did not look at it. One of the men grabbed hold of Perram, said they might as well have some fun first, didn’t need us all. Perram’s fear grew and I knew I had to act or he would be hurt.
Gerard had taught me Empathica, a little at least. Enough to keep my energy under control, how to use small amounts to soothe another, taught me more on when to use it and when not. What I attempted that day was not part of his teaching. It was instinctive, a need to make those men know how my classmates felt. A desire to stop them. A willingness to hurt then doing so.
All the fear, anguish, panic around me pulled together winding together, forming a rope. At my desire it rolled forward encompassing the men. Became pure terror - enough to knock all sense from them. Each and every one fell to the ground. In the joy at my success, I stood, pulled Perram behind me, and looked at the five men… Five?
| The image stops moving as Erian stops speaking. He looks closer, and it expands slightly as he points at each man in turn. His finger freezes on one - behind the rest, watching, not collapsed. |
Wait, was he always there? I remember clearly - they all collapsed. But looking closer… It is him! The outline. He was watching me. The others are talking, and he watches. And while they collapse he’s smiling. I’m confused for a second, but his gaze moves behind me and I- No! Wait I-
| The book vibrates, the image expands, growing to encompass the space. The silhouette drops it, retreating to wisp form, flying up and away. |
I need to go. I should have left this. Calm down. I need to focus on the image… The image… Where is it? what is it? I can’t remember what-
| The wisp flickers and begins to fall, pulled towards the memory - towards the boy at the centre, slowly turning his head. A flash as the wisp touches him. The study is no more. Only a memory of a forest camp, as the image moves once more. |
Erian turned, expecting gratitude. Instead, they stared - at the men, at him - fear first, then realisation. He couldn’t understand. Why were they afraid? He had saved them. Perram hadn’t been hurt.
His mind finally registered what his senses had already known. The energy he’d wielded against the men hadn’t dissipated as Thaum would. It had stretched back to its source, rebounding to the students. It was oscillating between the two points he’d set.
Terrified of what he had done - what his classmates felt about him, knew about him - he tried to regain control of it all. But it moved too fast, too vast to be held by him. Each student collapsed, one by one, each staring at him with terror and disgust. Until Perram was the only one left whose eyes stared into his stayed open held tight expanded until all he could see were the dark pupils that grew to encompass all encompass everything taking Erian deep within them.
Erian couldn't move, couldn’t speak. Other students sat in circles around him - he felt their stares. All he could see were Perram’s dark eyes, was still held by his dark gaze. That gaze strengthened even as an instructor spoke - words distant dull. Words Erian didn’t remember hearing.
“Use the trust you have built with your partner. Accept they will protect you. You will be guided gently into the veil. Do not resist. Enjoy your first experience there.” Those last words faded away as Perram’s eyes closed. And then the pain started.
Needles - sharp - dragged along his skin. Hammers pounded the backs of his eyes. Glass pulled along his scalp dragged through it across it, digging in. He screamed, but no sound came out. No one could hear him. It went on and on. Not stopping.
It lingered as everything else became void. He was surrounded by nothing. Held by nothing. Falling into nothing.
Then he heard a voice. Perram.
“Did that hurt? Did it? That was a fraction of what you did to us. Who are you to have a ‘gentle’ trip here? Like you deserve that -after what you put us through.”
A heavy blow hit him and he spun out, away. He reached, tried to grab something - anything. His fear rose with the pain.
He called out to Perram. “Please. It was an accident. I wanted to stop them to protect us, protect you - I didn’t know.”
A force hit him again pushing him back. A second voice joined in he couldn’t place. “You protect us? Who asked for your help? When would we want help from an Empath?”
Another blow. A third voice. “You forced emotion on us, forced us to feel. Forced us to feel so scared we didn’t know what was happening. It didn’t stop. Just like this won’t.”
Another blow, and Erian’s fear grew further. So did the noise - chimes expanding, growing closer, And ribbons so many ribbons. The blows pushed him into them and they wound around him vibrant and fast, faster than he could follow.
He called out again. “I didn’t mean it. I tried to help.” They ignored him. Their words and blows continued.
A fourth voice. “And nothing was said. You weren’t punished. They said it was the attackers that killed them. But we know. If you were not the High Ritualist’s son you would have been rightly blamed for it punished for it - for killing those men, for letting Markem and Instructor Kydel die.”
They… died? The thought hit Erian’s mind - stronger than the blows that hurled him. They repeated their accusations, labelled him killer, monster, Empath, and the never-ending flows of energy buffeted him. He gave no resistance. Spoke no defence. Offered no denial.
He heard Perram’s voice a final time.
“If they won’t punish you, I will. I’ve learnt how to navigate here, where it’s safe to go - where it’s not. They won’t find you where I’ll throw you. You’ll stay there until I decide to let you out – not that I will.”
One, two, three, four blows hit into him and he was pushed far and fast - spun by the energy, pulled by its currents. All he could hear now were loud, raucous, discordant sounds. All he could see was spiritual energy. And all he could think were the words they had let him keep: killer, monster - Empath.
“Finally.” First a voice, then a familiar comfort near him. The chimes were gone. He blearily opened his eyes. The ribbons were… less. The pain was gone. He slowly sat up leaning on something behind him.
He was in his room. Or was it the hospital wing? He couldn’t decide.
Perram had let him out? He said he wouldn’t. Why had he? When would he put him back?
“I’ve been trying to wake you for ages. Been an hour since I got you out. And that took some doing.” Marnie was there. She wasn’t there before. It had been the Magister sitting next to him.
“That memory… It was awful. I get it now, I really do. If I’d been pelted like that I’d not go back in either. Why did they do that?”
He’d said something like that to the Magister, tried to explain - but he was wrong. The Magister said so, said it was… what had he called it again?
“A nightmare.”
“What?” He’d said that too.
“It was a nightmare.” The Magister had been adamant.
Marnie shook her head and folded her arms. “No, that was definitely a memory you were in. You don’t get trapped in dreams - not in a mindscape, anyway.”
What had the Magister said to that? “It was a nightmare, nothing more. Brought on by exhaustion and foolishness.” And he had been exhausted. So tired. In there for so long. Would Perram let him sleep before he put him back?
Killer, monster, Empath.
The room was blurry. He blinked, tried to focus. Marnie’s ribbons were here - concern, curiosity, confusion. She was confused. He should explain. He’d understood after the Magister explained it.
“There is no need to speak to your father. The High Ritualist has concerns enough - your Empath status is now public, along with your part in the attack.” He knows. I’m a killer. I won’t need to say it. “You will not pester him with ramblings of a nightmare - nor the feeble collapse brought on by your own foolish behaviour.”
“I don’t have a father. What attack? What are you talking about? …Erian?”
“Your collapse - interrupting an important class for those students - was an inevitable outcome once you chose to unleash Empathica.” I’m a monster. Monsters are monitored. “It is unlikely to occur while you remain at the Academy - provided you comply with the monitoring an unstable Empath warrants.”
“You aren’t hearing me, are you? Erian, listen. Who told you this?”
“And you are to stay away from the students - particularly those traumatised by these events.” Don’t trust me near them. Empaths are dangerous. “Let them recover in peace.”
“That’s why you let them be mean to you. That memory… Erian, they’ve made you think… But, you shouldn’t! You’re a good person! Does Meliath know? He doesn’t does he?”
Marnie looked sad. Why was she holding him? She shouldn’t be sad. He patted her arm. The Magister hadn’t been sad. He was leaving. He’d said something… something else… what was it?
He blinked, slowly. Why was he on the floor?
He should get in bed. He was tired. So tired.
He pulled himself onto the bed, saw an open doorway.
He didn’t see Perram this time, standing in the doorway, staring at him. Not saying why he’d released him - or when he’d be put back.
His eyes fell closed as his head touched the pillow.
That was it. He remembered.
The Magister had opened the door, to leave. He had seen Perram through the doorway, in the hall outside the hospital room, silent. The Magister had looked at Perram, staring at Erian, then said… before he walked past him...
“Let it be a nightmare.” Erian murmured. “There is nothing to gain by saying it was more.”
He thought he felt something soft on top of him.
“Alright,” He heard Marnie say. “A nightmare.” She must have finished the Trial preparation.
His eyes blinked open, just for a second. She was sitting on his bed, in his room. “You’re… back. Did it… go…” He didn’t hear her answer - only felt the quiet comfort of her aura as sleep took hold.
Thanks for Reading! Was the warning needed? Did I overthink it? Or should it have been on the last scene? Please let me know.
The first part is pretty much my own experience with insomnia - Repeating the same thoughts until bad decision - almost literally when novel bits are replaying in my head. The rest is mostly based a little on life experience, but more on what I’ve read, seen and imagined. As I mentioned in notes at the time of writing, this scene was noodling for a while then went down fast. I then spent an entire extra day on just the end, getting more traumatic each time. It’s worryingly easy to start spiralling with this stuff. I think I stopped myself at the right point.
Next scene will be Marnie’s side of these events - and what she does about it.