Page 42 of Daemon Master

“Have you considered bonding another daemon?” Seymour asked out of the blue.

Adrian started, almost falling off his log. “No. Yes. I mean—”

“Eloquent as always.” Seymour prodded the fire with a stick, throwing up embers to dance in the night air. “I plan to as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I don’t exactlymiss Willowrush, but I miss the flexibility a second daemon provided.”

“You mean the utility of a second technique?” Adrian asked.

“Well, yes, that. But a second daemon can also surprise an opponent with a sudden swap or provide backup if your first daemon falls.” Seymour studied Adrian with an intensity that made him blush. “You should possess enough aetheric control yourself now to support a second daemon. Free will complicates matters, but if I were you, I’d consider seeking another when you can.”

Adrian nodded, but internally, his stomach churned. He agreed with Seymour in theory—two daemons would always be better than one. Yet, all he could think of when he contemplated another bond was the loathing in Trailseeker’s eyes. He’d failed his last daemon in so many ways, and while he knew it was ridiculous, he couldn’t help but consider a new bond as a betrayal of Trailseeker’s memory.

Perhaps sensing Adrian’s downturn in mood, Seymour cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Did you ever hear what happened to Anders when he tried to join the Baker’s Guild?”

Adrian frowned, taken aback. It wasn’t like Seymour to bring up their old lives in Hillvale. “Wasn’t Anders that skinny kid who always used to bring pastries to our lessons?”

Seymour grinned, the expression softening the severe lines of his face. “Yep. Fancied himself a baker even back then. Well, turns out his mother had been helping him with his ingredients, so his entrance exam was the first time he had to navigate a kitchen on his own.”

“Let me guess,” Adrian said, his own grin surfacing. “It didn’t go well?”

Seymour’s emerald eyes danced with mirth. “Let’s just say he had a difficult time telling his salt, flour, and sugar apart. I heard it made for some…interestinginterpretations of bread.”

Adrian laughed despite himself. “Baker Lewis must’ve been furious.”

“I imagine so. He took his breadveryseriously. Oh, then there’s Jaquelin. She joined the Entertainer’s Guild after she left Hillvale.”

Adrian’s brow rose. “Jackie? Anentertainer? She used to be so serious, running to the nearest adult whenever anyone stepped out of line.”

Seymour shrugged. “Never heard her sing myself, but they say she has a beautiful voice. People change, I guess.”

“Wecertainly did,” Adrian replied softly.

An uncomfortable silence descended, broken only by the crackling flames. Adrian stared into the fire, thinking of the past and future—of opportunities lost and those that might yet be seized. His mind turned to that last night he and Seymour had spent together as friends and the argument that had torn them apart.

“I’ve always wondered why you hated me so much,” he said without looking up. “We used to be inseparable. I admired you—your dedication and drive. Your courage. Then, we had that huge fight, and it was like you suddenly couldn’t stand to look at me. Did you really resent me that much for being weak?”

“I…” The watcher hesitated, his voice growing taut. “Your parents may have been heroes to the other watchers, but they were even more than that to me. They were always so kind when I came by. In some ways, I felt more at home with them than I did with my own family.”

Seymour fidgeted against Tremorfist’s chest. The daemon snorted and cracked an eye open, glaring at him until he settled down. Adrian waited for him to continue, his pulse quickening.

“I tried so hard to live up to the example they set with both their lives and their deaths,” Seymour said at last. “Like you, they’re the reason I even wanted to join the Watcher Division.I yearned to defend the League like they had—to push myself to my limits and beyond.” His lip curled in faint amusement. “But thereyouwere, their son and my best friend, seemingly determined to do the exact opposite. I didn’t resent you for being weak, Adrian. I resented you for giving up.”

Anger flared in Adrian’s chest, as hot and bright as the dancing flames. “I’ve spent my entirelifetrying to make them proud!”

“I realize that now,” the watcher said. “I do. But at the time, all I saw was the way you used your flawed aether as an excuse to abandon your training. To…to abandonme.I thought you were shirking your duty—dishonoring your parents’ sacrifices by giving up on our shared dream rather than pushing forward.”

“And that gave you the right to be cruel to me?”

Seymour flinched and looked away. “No. I don’t suppose it did.” He paused as if choosing his words carefully. “It’s no excuse, but our over-reliance on aether makes it easy to look down on those weaker than us. Somewhere along the way, treating you as something lesser became a habit. Your parents would’ve been ashamed of me for forgetting what really mattered.”

Adrian’s throat felt impossibly dry. “And what’s that?”

“Honor. Duty. In the end, those areallthat matter. Doing the right thing, no matter the cost.” Seymour met Adrian’s eyes. When he spoke, his voice shook with more emotion than Adrian had ever heard in it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry your parents died. I’m sorry you struggled with your aether. And I’m sorry I was such a lousy friend.”

Adrian sucked in a breath. He hadn’t realized how desperately he yearned to hear those words. It took him a moment to find his voice. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing, standing up to Serenity Corp? Or are we wasting our lives on a pointless cause?”

“Carrying out one’s duty isneverpointless,” Seymour said. “Your parents taught me that.”

Conversation faded away. They sat in companionable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts, until the fire burned itself out.