Restraint

CW: Physical violence, death, past abuse by authority, panic responses, psychological distress, familial conflict.

Nobody believed in me. That was their first mistake.

Now, look at them. Running for their lives.

They can’t ignore me anymore.

I can’t help the grin that pulls at my lips as golf-sized hail rains down, smashing into the street, denting cars, and cutting screams off short. The satisfaction is intoxicating. The rage of my storm is freeing. The power is addictive. Sitting up here, on Town Hall, I feel like a king—no—a god.

With a flick of my wrist, a wave rises from the bay. I watch as people stop and stare. I wonder if they’re praying.

Our gleaming, Moon Goddess won’t hear them.

I snap my fingers, and the wave comes crashing down, knocking into tall office buildings—windows breaking, supports failing.

The people run—pushing and trampling each other as water floods the streets. My hand crunches into a fist, the water freezing in an instant, trapping bodies—trapping heroes.

There’s a scream. Sharp. Heartbreaking.

I smirk as I see her surfing on that board of light. She slams into the ice, hands clawing at it.

“Star Shaker!” she shouts.

Her friend is nothing but a hand sticking up.

Forming a slide, I head down to her. My feet hit the frozen wave, and off in the distance, lightning strikes.

“Are you proud of me, Mom?” I ask, drawing closer as my hands rest comfortably in my pockets.

There are tears on her cheeks. I’ve never seen her cry. Not even when Dad nearly died on a mission.

“You’re a monster!” she yells, whipping her head toward me. Her fury-filled gaze no longer scares me. “How could you do this!?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Me? A monster?” I shake my head. “How can I be? You’re the one who taught me to be ruthless!”

She gets up, her fists clenched tight and blinding yellow. “I did no such thing!”

I grit my teeth as she rushes for me.

She jumps into the air, her fist diving down, and the air around it burns gold.

It used to be so beautiful to me.

A wall of ice shoots up, her fist connecting with it. The first layer breaks as a raw sound tears from her throat. Mom drops, holding her hand—bone sticking out of her middle finger, blood staining the ice red.

The sight makes my stomach twist before I can stop it.

For a moment, everything slows.

That’s Mom.

The thought is unbidden and unwanted.

My breath catches, and I stumble back.

The storm falters above us—tiny holes appearing in the clouds, letting in the moonlight.

Suddenly, I am not here.

I’m twelve again, crying over a cut knee.

Mom is there, cooing soothing words into my ears. Telling me to focus. To breathe.

There is ice crawling up a tree.

She tells me to breathe while moving my small hand to my knee, flattening my palm over the wound.

“Now, flow,” she whispers.

Ice covers the wound. A band-aid of my creation.

She says she’s so proud of me as she kisses my cheeks.

I am her son.

“What went wrong with you?” Mom asks, her tone cold. It snaps me back. “Why couldn’t you have been like Ben?”

That name.

That comparison breaks something in me.

“Would you shut the fuck up!” Lightning forks down toward her.

Then the sun is exploding in front of me.

I’m thrown back, my head colliding into a pillar. I gasp as I hit the porch of Town Hall.

“River! Stop this!”

It’s Ben.

He’s on the road—puddles of water, shards of ice, and drowned people around him. He broke my wave.

“You nearly killed Mom!” he shouts, stalking closer.

I stand up, scowling, and looking around. Mom is nowhere in sight.

“Oh well,” I answer, rolling a shoulder as warmth drips down my neck. I reach back, feeling blood seeping into my hair.

Bastard.

“Oh well?” he repeats sharply, stopping six feet from me. “What happened to you?”

I let out a slow breath. It almost sounds like a laugh.

“I’m getting real sick,” I say, tilting my head back slightly, “of people asking me the same thing over and over again. Can’t I just be like this? Can’t I just be something destructive without reason?”

Ben’s jaw tightens as he steps forward because he’s relentless.

It’s really annoying.

“I know you, River,” he replies. “There’s always a reason with you. And, I want to hear it.”

I scoff loudly. “Oh, stop with the bullshit. When have you ever?”

Something unreadable flashes across his face.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Ben says, reaching the first step. The hail comes down faster, but not a single piece hits him. “Just tell me what happened.”

“I don’t need to explain.”

“River,” he implores. “You’re hurting people.”

My face tightens when he says it, my shoulders hunching.

“I know,” I say. “It’s great.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I smile cruelly. “I think I do,” I reply, my tone icy. The hail comes down faster. One finally hits him in the shoulder.

A muscle ticks in his cheek as he tries not to wince. It makes me laugh.

He takes another step. “Let’s talk,” he suggests.

“Don’t feel like it,” I spit out, the ice shards vibrating on the road.

“River,” he stresses, still climbing up to me, getting closer.

There’s a buzzing under my skin. Lightning strikes down in quick succession. And, I can feel it. Control slipping out of my hands. Like before.

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore!” I roar.

“I don’t believe that,” he responds, reaching out a hand.

My mind sees a shimmering light in his palm, and I lash out.

A whip of water bursts outward. Ben’s eyes widen, his arms blocking his face as a shield of light forms. The water smashes into it, and he’s flung down the stairs. He lands hard on his shoulder, body crumpling inward slightly.

Ice starts to creep onto the pillars, spreading onto the stairs.

“Please,” Ben pleads, standing up. “Don’t do this. I’m still your brother.”

The words ricochet in my head.

He shouldn’t still sound like my brother.

I hate that he came. I hate that he isn’t furious.

“Stop being that then,” I snap.

Ben freezes, eyes going wide, shoulders dropping.

Another whip of water flies down toward him, the tip crystallizing into ice.

Light shoots from his foot, launching him backward. Spiked columns of ice follow after him.

Ben dodges each one.

“Stay still damnit!” I shout, squeezing my fists, the road freezing over.

A rope of light threads through the air, wrapping around my arm. It feels just like spellwork. My throat closes up.

No.

Not again.

Not this again.

The glowing cord tightens, and I’m back on my knees. Frantic voices around me, air being stolen from me. The weight of eyes on me.

And I am scared.

Hail turns into jagged ice barbs, aiming to kill.

I’m pulled off the porch and tossed to the side, crashing through a window. Glass slices into my skin, a million tiny papercuts all at once.

“Oh fuck,” I hear Ben say. “I didn’t mean to throw you that hard. I’m—ark!”

Water bangs into his chest, hardening around his torso as it drives him into the sky before hammering into the ground.

“Just shut up!” I scream, stumbling out. He glows brightly, light breaking apart the ice’s hold.

“River—”

“Shut up!”

My hands close around my ears.

The wind howls.

Ice spikes erupt from the frozen street, rotating around Ben in a spiraling tunnel. He throws up shields of light, each impact ringing out like a fracturing lake.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Just surrender! Let me win!

Instead, light flares out around him, destroying them.

He starts for me, feet confident and steady.

Ben blocks a spray of hail, a fragment of ice slices across his cheek, blood trailing down his jaw. He’s a thing I can’t stop.

It makes my chest constrict. Makes the storm loud in my head.

“Stop it!” I shriek.

Ribbons of water blast at him. It doesn’t form cleanly. It churns and crashes into itself, rising around him in a violent vortex. He fights through it, emerging with his hero suit shredding in places, hair plastered to his forehead.

“River,” he says again, voice soft, but it carries on the wind.

He’s too close.

“Get away from me!”

The wind lashes harder, tornadoes of ice and lightning forming on the streets, flinging debris at us. Walls of water rise over the buildings, casting long, looming shadows.

Stop looking at me like that.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Everything is going to shit.

My storm is getting the better of me again.

I just need a second. I’ll fix it. Just give me a moment’s breath.

“River,” Ben says.

I look up, and he’s upon me. So close that I can see his fear. So close that I can see the anguish.

And, it’s my brother, standing in my storm. Like always. Like he never left me alone.

“I’m right here.” His hands close around my wrists, and it burns worse than fire.

There’s a wind tunnel in my head.

A thousand voices.

A thousand memories.

“I’m right here,” he says again.

Not pleading anymore. Just unshakable and firm. Just like when he taught me how to skate.

“You’re too late,” I reply, breaking.

“No, I’m not,” he declares, care in every note. For a second, I believe him. Maybe he can draw me up. Maybe he can dust me off and put me back onto that horse.

But the storm never liked the calm. It never liked to let me breathe.

I feel it clawing back up, dragging me under.

Back to the ceremony.

Back to the frightened stares.

Back to every moment where I learned there was a divide between him and me.

The storm rips open each wound, feeding me anger.

I feed it right back. A never-ending cycle.

“You should’ve stayed away.” I barely sound like me. “You can’t save me this time.”

Ben’s body tenses up as a tear breaks free, drifting down his face.

Water crashes towards us.

He doesn’t leave.

Because Ben Valorian doesn’t run.

He’s steadfast.

He holds on.

Something hard smacks into the back of my head. And everything goes black.

* * *

Three Weeks Earlier

Lunaria Academy: School of The Arcane and Elemental Studies

The worst thing about having a brother who was so great and so loved was that it was so hard to hate him.

Light poured out of Ben with every step taken and every word spoken and every smile given. He couldn't stop because that was who he was. Gifted with the same light Mom held.

They called him Light-bringer.

And Sunbearer.

I wanted to be his other half. I wanted people to call me Moonbearer. Or something equally as cool.

But they called me basketcase. Or unstable.

Honestly, I would’ve settled for being called his little brother.

I wanted to hate him so badly. And, maybe, if he were an arrogant piece of shit, it would have been easier. But he wasn’t.

I guessed that was why the Dean was giving him an excellence award.

Ben waved and smiled proudly to the cheering crowd. I tried to be sour, but even that smile worked on me. Maybe it was because that smile used to be mine.

He was always the proudest of me in our family. He always threw the best celebrations.

No matter the grade.

No matter how small the feat.

No matter the reason.

Cake and a dazzling smile greeted me each time.

Ben accepted the certificate, posing for pictures.

I could feel the Enforcers’ eyes on me. They always watched me. But, I kept grinning and clapping.

There were two girls next to me, whispering about how they wished the sun would come out and grace Ben with its light.

I knew it wouldn’t happen. I felt the rainstorm building all day. It made me feel wired and brittle and wound too tight.

But there, in that moment, I felt free.

Free of the pressure.

Free of the expectations.

Free of the storm.

Until something loud crashed to the ground, making my ears ring, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

My body went taut.

The clouds darkened.

There was a buzzing under my skin.

And I tried to hold my stitches together.

Goddess, believe me, I tried.

I prayed for it not to happen here. Anywhere but here.

The storm never cared though. It was here, and it always drowned me.

Lightning struck the earth, scorching the grass.

People screamed and scattered—shoving me around. Kicking up my anxiety as lightning came down again. It hit a tree, and the leaves caught fire instantly.

I called for rain. I begged for rain to fix it.

Just fix it!

But I was disoriented. And everything was so loud.

A searing grip wrapped around my arms, legs, and throat–squeezing me, restraining me, choking me.

Spellwork hurt a lot as it popped and crackled along my skin.

The Enforcers’ forced me to my knees. My lungs were unable to open fully.

The edges of my vision got blurry.

Ben was shoving people out of the way, screaming my name, screaming for them to let me go.

“Just let him go! You’re making it worse!”

The magic tightened around my neck.

I remembered thinking I was gonna die before I passed out.

* * *

“Come on, breathe!” Someone shouts above me, a crushing pressure on my chest.

Water bubbles out of my mouth as I cough, air rushing in.

I sit up too fast, making my head swim.

“Thank the Goddess. I thought I lost you,” Ben says, relief coloring his features.

“What—”

“You blacked out when you brought down that tsunami on us,” he says quickly, not letting me finish.

I look around us. We’re on a roof. Down below, buildings are broken in two, debris floating in deep water.

The sky is still dark, but nothing is falling. Lightning strikes in the clouds. I feel the storm in my stomach—aching, craving, writhing.

“Why?” My voice comes out raspy as I stare at the sky. “You could’ve ended this. You could’ve let me die. So why?”

His answer is simple. “You’re my brother.”

It isn’t fair.

The clouds shift, getting fuller as tears well in my eyes. It’s so not fair.

A sob—soft and shattered—escapes me. Fat raindrops spilling down, hitting the pavement, and sounding like needles.

“Why?” I ask again. “Why are you being so kind to me? Being my brother can’t be the only reason.” I wipe tears—or is that rainwater?—from my eyes. “Look at me! Look at what I’ve done! You can’t love me anymore. You’re supposed to hate me.”

Ben grabs my wrist and yanks me forward, crushing me into an unwanted hug. I try to wriggle free, but he holds strong.

“I can never hate you, River,” he says.

The words sew something back together.

“And, I’m so sorry.”

I blink.

“What?”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t see it.”

The rain comes hard. It stings my face.

Ben swallows. “I thought you were okay.”

A laugh erupts from me. Broken and bitter. “Seriously?”

“I did.” His voice is sure as he squeezes me tighter. “I thought if I gave you space, if I stopped hovering, then you’d figure things out. I thought you’d always know that I was proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” I repeat, anger resurfacing.

“River—”

“No.” I find the strength and shove away from him. “You can’t. You don’t get to do that to me.” The storm growls overhead. I feel its fangs digging into my brain.

My hands shake as I go on. “You don’t get to sit here and tell me you were proud. No. No, you can’t lie to me. I know the truth,” I bite out, lightning flashes.

“Mom wanted another version of you.”

The wind picks up.

“Dad wanted another version of you.”

Rain lashes sideways.

“The Academy wanted another version of you.”

Water churns below us.

“And every time I failed, everyone looked at me like I was broken. Like I was wrong!”

Ben opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak.

“And you weren’t there!” There are cracks across my body. “You were everybody's hero. You were there for them. But what about me? Huh? What about me!” The storm shudders. I’m tearing apart. “I was drowning, and you did nothing.” I jab a finger into his chest. “You wanted me gone, too!”

“I didn’t!” Ben shouts.

“Then, why did you leave me!?”

Ben huffs heavily and looks away.

A weighty silence falls on us as the storm rages.

“I couldn’t,” he begins quietly, “I couldn’t get close to you. You stopped letting me.”

I hate him.

I hate that I can’t blame him.

I hate that this was all…me.

A flash of color catches Ben’s attention, and he grimaces. My stomach drops. I already know before I follow his line of sight.

Figures move along the distant rooftops. Bright cloaks, spellwork shooting off as they move.

Enforcers.

They’ve come for me.

“I guess my time—”

“Run,” he says, voice stern.

“What?”

He turns to me, gripping my shoulders. “Run.”

I stare at him. “No, I deserve to be punished—”

“River—for fuck’s sake—listen to me and run.”

“They’ll kill me before I get too far.”

“Not if I cover you.”

My face contorts into a pained expression. “Ben—”

“I can make it blinding. Just go.”

He gives me a big smile. Like, he’s not risking treason.

The Enforcers’ yells reach us. I feel the noose around my neck.

“I’ll find you,” Ben says before his palms slap down, a wall of blinding light shooting up.

I can’t even say goodbye. Or sorry.

I’m out of time.

And I run.