The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 10

“Then neither of you is at fault, is that?”

Grandpa bent down to eye level, his knees creaking as he met our stubborn silence.

“Iyara. Sandora. One of you needs to admit you’re wrong first.”

“……”

“Or be the first to walk away.”

A last chance. If neither of us apologized, he’d leave us here—no hesitation. But I clamped my mouth shut. Sandora’s lips stayed sealed too. The lines on Grandpa’s face hardened.

“No sense in either of you.”

With a sigh, he stood, dusting off his robes. His eyes lingered on the hut in the distance.

“There’s food and supplies inside. Enough to last.”

That green light flickered around him again—this time, only at his feet. We stayed planted on the ground, watching as he rose into the air.

Once a day, he’d send someone. That was his only promise before leaving. Now, only the suffocating silence between me and Sandora remained. His figure vanished faster this time. We didn’t move until even the last speck of him was gone.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sandora was merciless. My tongue clicked in disgust.

“So?”

“Either you apologize, or I walk out. That’s it.”

“How brave. ‘I’ll rot here forever’—real poetic, Sandora.”

Sandora’s eyes were puffy and red, her lips crusted with dried blood. Not that I looked any better. We glared at each other fiercely before wordlessly agreeing that fighting any further would just be a waste. As night fell, the air grew chilly. Without a single word exchanged, we stumbled our way into the hut.

Luckily, there were two beds—one on the right, one on the left. I naturally drifted to the left and collapsed onto it. Sandora hesitated for a moment before sinking into the right bed. Backs turned to each other, we lay there, letting out faint, pained groans.

I’m not losing this.

I prodded at my slightly loose molar with my tongue and made up my mind—there was no way I’d be the first to apologize.

* * *

I pushed open the skylight of the hut to find shelves lined with various jams, breads, and—against all odds—fresh vegetables and fruits. Like rainproof fire, these provisions had clearly been preserved through some unnatural means.

I rose late, spreading grape jam on bread as I ate. The bed on the right was already empty—Sandora must’ve gone outside. Through the open window, I could see her futile struggle: slick, polished walls with no handholds. Did she really think she could scale it just because she’s hopped a few fences before? A wall this smooth needed something sharp and solid to grip.

Neither of us seemed willing to apologize, so all that remained was breaking the other’s will. Cornered, we’d fight to force each other to kneel. I hadn’t been this furious with Sandora at first, but the way she glared—like I was some blight on her existence—made me seethe. What exactly did I do wrong here?

Even after chewing my bread twelve times over, the verdict was clear: Not my fault.

“Don’t pity me,” huh? Then stop looking so damn pitiful.

I shoved the last bite into my mouth and strode outside. Sandora was there, scrambling up the wall only to slide back down, her nightgown hitched up to her thighs. Pathetic. Both of us were stuck in flimsy sleepwear, but her disheveled state was almost tragic.

Circling the hut, I hunted for a sharp rock to wedge into the wall. As I tested its edge, I felt eyes on me—Sandora, staring at my stone. I smirked and waved it.

“See? Useless skills come in handy. Right?”

You’ve gotta experience scaling walls to know this trick. Pridefully, I slammed the rock into the wall, expecting at least a scratch. But the surface stayed flawless. Same hardness as stone, but no mineral weakness? How could two rocks clash without a single mark?

“You—”

At that moment, Sandora sneered at me.

“So much for ‘talking to the wall’—you just went ahead and stabbed it first. Did it even scream in pain?”

“Mind your own damn underwear.”

“I’ll handle my underwear just fine, thanks.”

Half the fight was us arguing; the other half was us slapping paste on the wall, weaving strands of glue, hurling rocks, and clawing at it like feral cats. By sunset, we were both slumped against the wall, exhausted, but our mouths were still alive and kicking—weakly, at least—as we traded half-hearted insults.

Your bruise is bigger. No, yours is! You apologize first! No, you! And so we sat there, stubbornly waiting for the other to surrender, until the sky darkened.

The person Grandfather sent arrived just as we’d finally shut our mouths, too tired to even bicker. We were sprawled on the grassy field, staring blankly at the star-studded night sky, when a figure descended toward us, bathed in faint light from above.

“Edryd?”

“Shh!”

Edryd ignored Sandora’s eager greeting, pressing a finger to his lips. But my attention was instantly stolen by the basket in his arms. A delicious aroma wafted from it, teasing my nose.

“One of you just needs to apologize. Why make this so difficult?”

“Less talking.”

I licked my dry lips and impatiently gestured at Edryd.

“Show me what you brought first.”

With an exasperated sigh, he tossed the basket in front of me. I yanked off the cloth cover and immediately grabbed the ham inside. Forget forks or manners—I tore into it with my bare hands, finally feeling alive again.

Edryd groaned.

“Grandfather only had one question for you two: Are you even sorry?”

“Nope.”

Sandora answered instantly. I just shook my head, too busy devouring the ham. Edryd clutched his head like he was in physical pain.

“You’re both insane.”

“Alright, if you’re done talking, you can go now.”

Edryd gave us both a look that said I give up. I waved him off with a safe travels. He started floating back up toward the sky, pouting—then suddenly froze, as if realizing something. Only then did it hit me—he could fly, just like Grandfather.

“So that’s how it is!”

Exhausted Sandora and I, still busy eating, barely acknowledged Edryd’s excited outburst. But he wasn’t deterred. Grinning, he stepped closer to us.

“This time, it seems he’s trying to accomplish two things at once.”

When neither of us showed much interest, Edryd only grew more agitated.

“Think about it! Why else would he go this far just because of your stupid fight?”

I finished off the ham and started rummaging through the basket for more. Edryd snatched it away with a that’s enough look.

“Stop eating and listen for once.”

“What’s the big deal, Ed?”

Sandora finally humored him. Edryd’s face lit up, and he rubbed his hands together eagerly.

“Okay, so—this place was always meant to be educational.”

He rambled on forever, but the useful part boiled down to this: Just like how Grandfather and Edryd summoned light to fly, this place was a training ground for calling forth that same light. Apparently, every family had one, and after some thought, he realized this was ours.

“That’s why he told you to climb the wall. The first one to awaken their Light—”

Edryd snapped his fingers for dramatic effect.

“—wins.”

The winner. The moment that word left Edryd’s mouth, Sandora and I locked eyes. For a brief second, I saw it—bewilderment, a flicker of fear, and the faintest spark of rivalry. The problem? I had no idea what any of this meant. And judging by Sandora’s blank stare, she didn’t either.

“You’re both heading to the academy this winter anyway. Guess he wants you to awaken your light before then. How’s that for a flawless deduction?”

His bragging never stopped. Meanwhile, Sandora and I were drowning in our own thoughts. So that’s what this was about—not mindlessly scaling the wall, but learning something to overcome it.

I kicked a nearby pebble, frustration boiling over, memories of the day’s bruises and aching body flaring back

Edryd mentioned someone else would come tomorrow. Our hopes deflated pathetically. After he left—having only stopped by today after endless pleading—an unfamiliar peace settled between us. No more bickering. Just two exhausted idiots staring wordlessly at the night sky.

At least the stars were beautiful.

* * *

The next morning, I tore through the cabin the moment I woke up. Desperate for any clue—anything—that might help. One hand clutching bread, I rummaged through every corner until Sandora finally snapped.

“You’re making my head spin. And there’s no way they’d leave clues just lying around here.”

She slammed her jam-smeared knife down. No doubt she was just as sore, just as sleep-deprived, just as on edge as I was. Though her arms aren’t wrecked, I thought bitterly. My left arm was useless after yesterday’s idiotic stunt—spending hours hammering the wall with rocks like some deranged woodpecker. Stupidity has its price.

Grimacing, I rubbed my lower back and slumped onto the floor.