Chapter Nine: Borrowed Courage
The trouble started with shouting.
It always did.
Aerin heard it before they saw it—a sharp spike of fear slicing through the hum beneath the street. Not their fear. Someone else's. Raw and bright, like a struck nerve.
They turned just in time to see the crowd part.
Three city guards were dragging a boy toward the fountain, his heels scraping uselessly against the stone. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. His face was pale, eyes wide, hands shaking so badly he could barely hold onto his own sleeves.
"I didn't do anything," the boy said, voice cracking. "I swear—"
"Quiet," one of the guards snapped. "You ran."
"So did half the market," the boy pleaded. "Everyone was scared!"
The words hit Aerin like a blow.
Scared.
The hum surged.
Aerin felt the boy's terror brush against their chest—hot, frantic, desperate. It tangled with the echo already coiled inside them, twisting tighter and tighter until it hurt to breathe.
Kerris swore under his breath. "This is about yesterday, isn't it?"
Maelra's jaw set. "They need someone to blame."
The boy stumbled. One of the guards shoved him upright again, harder than necessary.
Something in Aerin snapped.
"Stop," they said.
Their voice didn't carry far.
But it didn't need to.
The word caught.
The guards hesitated—not fully, not consciously. Just enough.
Aerin didn't think.
They reached.
Not with their hands.
With the ache in their chest, with the echo that recognized fear too well. They brushed against the boy's terror and pulled—not ripping it away, just redirecting it.
The effect was immediate.
The boy straightened.
His shaking slowed, then stopped. His breathing steadied. When he looked up again, his eyes were clear—focused, burning with a sudden, borrowed resolve.
"Let me go," he said firmly.
The guards faltered.
One stepped back. Another loosened his grip without realizing it.
The crowd murmured.
Aerin staggered.
The courage didn't vanish.
It moved.
Fear flooded into Aerin's chest all at once—cold and crushing, like plunging into deep water. Their knees buckled. Their heart raced, pounding far too fast.
Kerris caught them. "Aerin—what did you do?"
"I—" Aerin gasped. "I didn't mean—"
The boy tore free and ran.
The guards shouted too late.
The courage held just long enough.
Then it snapped back into the world like a released breath.
The fear did not.
Aerin collapsed against Kerris, shaking violently.
Every instinct screamed run, hide, don't be seen. Their vision tunneled. Their hands clawed uselessly at Kerris's sleeve.
Maelra was there instantly, stone hand grounding, heavy and real.
"Breathe," she ordered. "Slow. That fear isn't yours."
Aerin shook their head frantically. "It is. It's all mine."
Maelra's voice dropped. "That's the cost."
The fear ebbed slowly, reluctantly, like a tide that didn't want to retreat.
When Aerin could finally breathe again, something felt… wrong.
Thin.
They searched themselves instinctively.
"What did I lose?" they whispered.
Maelra didn't answer immediately.
Kerris looked between them, shaken. "You saved him."
Aerin swallowed. "I took something from him."
Maelra met Aerin's eyes. "And the Weave took something from you."
Aerin frowned. "I—I can't remember…"
Their voice trailed off.
"What?" Kerris asked gently.
Aerin tried again. "I can't remember… why I'm afraid of water."
Silence fell.
Maelra inhaled sharply.
"That's a deep memory," she said. "Old. Protective."
Aerin hugged their arms around themselves. "I don't even know when I learned it."
"Which means it did its job," Maelra said quietly. "Until now."
Across the square, the guards were already arguing among themselves, the boy's face blurring in their recollection.
Already fading.
Aerin watched, heart heavy.
"I didn't mean to steal," they said.
Maelra rested her stone hand on Aerin's shoulder. "You didn't steal. You borrowed."
She paused. "The problem with borrowing courage is that it doesn't know how to come back clean."
Kerris swallowed hard. "So… hypothetically. If you kept doing that."
Maelra's gaze was grim. "Eventually, you'd be fearless."
Aerin looked up. "That sounds like a good thing."
Maelra shook her head. "Fear teaches you where the edges are. Lose it entirely, and you don't become brave."
She glanced at the place where the boy had vanished.
"You become reckless."
The hum beneath the ground stirred uneasily, like it agreed.
Aerin closed their eyes.
Power had answered them.
And it had taken note.