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"I don’t want to be a mage." His voice is too high-pitched, his knees tucked up to his chest, the heels of his palms pressed to his temples just beneath his horns. His ears are flat against his head. "I shouldn’t be a mage. I shouldn’t be a lot of things. I shouldn’t be a mage, I shouldn’t be tal-vashoth, I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t even be in this body," he whimpers, curling in on himself even tighter. Cass kneels next to him and rests one hand carefully on his shoulder. Shan looks at her, his chest heaving. "I’m scared," he squeaks out. "I’m so scared."
"You have a duty," Cass says, as if that will absolve him of his fear. As soon as her mouth begins to move around the words, she knows it’s the wrong thing to say, but she can’t stop it. Shan stares up at her, his eyes wide. His vitaar is running, from the tears and from his hands, his face smudged in ash and blood. His hands are covered in the same grime.
"I have a duty," he echoes, the words hollow in his mouth. His eyes are too deep in his skull, his hair is untied, his shirt is torn and his coat is hanging loose. He looks like someone just dumped him down the side of a mountain, laughed while he rolled down, and then kicked him when he hit the bottom, just for good measure. "Is that all I have now?" he asks, voice small. It’s a genuine question, and he’s looking at Cass with fear and hope in his eyes. "Can I rely on that now? Can I—can I stop asking questions?"
Cas hesitates before she answers. These words have to come out right.
"You can rely on duty but—do not stop asking questions."
Shan look away. His knees are still tucked up to his chest, but he lets his arms drift around his shins, so he’s holding them in place. He stares as the ruined stone wall twenty feet in front of him.
"I can do that," he murmurs. "I can trust duty. I can ask questions. I can do that. Even though I’m scared, I can do that." He leans into her hand, closes his eyes. "Asit tal-eb.”