Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!
Arthur Leywin
The dragon of ice approached with raging fury, a hurricane of winter wind trailing in its wake. Off-balanced as I was from the previous attack, it was poised to swallow me whole. In its sheer blue eyes, I almost imagined a level of intelligence. The bitter apathy of the unending cold.
I didn't let it intimidate me. As I called on the acclorite in my blood, I demanded my form to change.
It happened quickly–far faster than when I'd first discovered this ability. My normal flesh and bones shifted as I became the air itself, a tempest leashed into human form. My perspective of the mana in the atmosphere shifted as the green motes of wind mana became far, far more prominent. My sense for the yellow earth mana bled away entirely, as if I'd never borne the affinity in the first place.
But as I became windborne, paths first thought impossible and indecipherable opened themselves up to me. The wind mana itself showed me currents along which I could flow and travel, like a calm spring breeze. And as the pale skin of my flesh became a translucent green, I could almost imagine myself drifting away, free and untethered. Purple particles of aether lashed each of the green particles of wind mana together like a king's subjects.
The ambient wind mana moved me away from Lance Varay's attack as I dodged with aerial grace. I slid under and over her massive conjuration of ice magic, lashing out with blades of wind to cut away at her construct.
The winds told me in their strange whispers of the next attack that came my way. A whirling thunderstorm of snapping electric tendrils surged unerringly toward my airborne person. And not just this one: there was another attack heading my way as well. A gale of black fire churned silently as it tried to intercept me from another end.
Immediately, I recognized the danger of both attacks. In my windborne form, I was more susceptible to lighting and fire. Which was likely the plan of my sparring partners, and why they'd tried to push me into this position in the first place.
I didn't really have blood that could thunder in my ears, but I imagined it anyways as I let the windborne form drift away. My senses returned, my awareness of all four types of ambient mana evening out again as I disengaged. But just before the storm of electricity and curtain of hellfire struck me like a pincer attack, I called on the earth mana all around.
And in an instant, I was stone. Tough, durable, and unrelenting. My body felt stiff and coarse as I slowly braced in the air, certain in my defense. After all, that was the essence of earth mana itself. To be unmoving and inviolable.
I lethargically raised a hand to the side that faced the black fire, commanding the mana in the atmosphere. A gauntlet of fire and stone arose to face the unerring curtain of darkness.
And then the silent black fire and the angry thunderstorm crashed in on me from opposing sides. Electricity skittered harmlessly across my earthen form, chipping bits of rock from my skin and making little flakes of dust tumble away into the arena below. The black fire, however, proved far more difficult to resist. It weathered and ate away at my stalwart protections, consuming them for fuel and growing ever stronger. Even as I called on the fire and earth mana to create a protective ward, I could feel those dark tendrils quickly growing in threatening potency.
I ground my granite teeth as I held strong against the twin spells, each trying to break me down. I could distantly perceive the mana of Lance Varay's ice dragon as it wheeled, preparing to dive headfirst toward me and finally shatter my defense.
I wouldn't let it.
I called on the aether around me, feeling the tremble in the atmosphere as the weapon of my blood encroached on Sylv's bond. The black fire weakened slightly in its bombardment as my dragon recognized what I was about to do.
"Lance Bairon, on your two oclo–" Sylvie started, but I'd already stepped forward.
The world shifted as I engaged Warp Step, leaving the tempest of raging mana behind. The sudden change in sound as I left the growing clash of electricity and black fire might have been jarring any other time, but it was hard to surprise stone.
I emerged in front of Bairon Wykes, steaming and popping with energy. The Lance's face was beaded with sweat as he tried to keep up his barrage. Even with his version of Thunderclap Impulse across his nerves, he was slow to notice me.
My earthborne form slowed me tremendously—but I was still faster than my foe. Bairon tried to backpedal as he saw my strike coming like the unrelenting drive of a train, but quick calls to the ambient mana saw his feet lashed and bound by stone.
My blow struck him solidly in the sternum, making his ribs tremble and creak. I might have taken pleasure in it once, the expression of pain and anger on his face as I rattled his mana core. But as he flew backward, certainly out of the fight for this sparring session, the unbothered earth kept me static.
Lance Varay blurred toward me next, encased in her Ice Ninja form as she tried to shift tactics. But I'd improved drastically in these past few weeks of battle. My earthborne form bled away, quickly replaced by windborne once more.
I easily flowed around each of the Lance's glittering attacks and conjurations of mana. She held dual blades of ice that she used to try and reap my blood—mana?–-but with the grace of a bird on the wing, I flowed around and through each one. Little explosive grenades of ice crystals burst and popped around me, trying to spray me with shards of reflective glass, but conjured walls of wind and fire washed them away, steam sizzling around us as I pressed Varay backward.
Even as I casually dominated Lance Zero in close quarters, her eyes remained cold. Apathetic. Sweat froze on her skin as I slipped around a blurring strike, before absently slamming a fist–coated in fire and woven through with electricity–into her stomach.
Her barriers of ice cracked, and the lightning seeped through, causing her body to seize spasmodically as the tendrils brushed against her neurons.
Sensing an opportunity, I flowed forward, sweeping Varay's ice-laden legs out from under her. Before she could hit the ground, I spun with the wind, using the momentum to generate a gale that sent her hurtling toward her returning ice dragon spell.
As she went, I threw bolts of lightning-wrapped fire, accelerating them onward with wind magic. Varay haphazardly conjured little shields of reflective ice to try and staunch the assault, but that left her wide open to the returning maws of her ice dragon.
They collided in a cacophonous crash that shook the castle grounds. At the same time, I Warp Stepped, evading another barrage of black fire.
I emerged to the side, staring up at Sylvie where she hovered in the air, the wheat locks of her human form sifting in the winds. I could sense over our bond–muted as it was for this sparring session–that she wasn't truly exerting herself yet, same as I. Yet this castle was too restrictive for us to truly go all out, to really test our abilities.
"Well," Gideon's voice said gruffly over the loudspeaker, "that was a whole lot of nothing. Sparring's over. You can stop trying to beat each other into the dirt, now–because you've so thankfully made decades' worth of mana progress obsolete! Again!"
I let out a breath as I disengaged from my windborne form, my translucent, greenish skin returning to my normal, healthy tone. My sense of the atmosphere around me shrank back inward, cutting off the freeing feel of the air.
But in turn, I could also feel the ground again.
Sylvie slowly lowered to the base of the training room, her brows furrowed slightly as she shared a few of her thoughts with me. I sighed aloud, my long auburn hair drifting in front of my face.
I know, Sylv, I thought back. It isn't enough.
A ways away, Varay pulled herself from the wreckage of her ice dragon. She maintained her layer of icy apathy as she straightened, her cool eyes flicking to the side. Bairon snarled as he wrenched himself from the wreckage of the wall, glaring at me hatefully, his fingers twitching with crackling electricity.
I ignored it. The current state of the war washed away former feuds and grudges. I didn't have time for petty rivalries when every other day was spent endlessly scouring the continent, always on the lookout for more dead. For more massacres.
The human Lance forcefully put his hair into a neat part, then stalked away with barely contained rage. He gnashed his teeth as I watched, feeling disappointed in what he could bring.
"I was once the strongest of us," Varay's even voice said from the side. "But today, I remembered what it was like to wield a blade for the first time. Though this spar has been enlightening for me, I wonder what good it will serve for you, Lance Godspell."
Sylvie turned away, suppressing a mask of slight guilt as Varay practically spoke her own thoughts. I'd limited myself to using only my windborne and earthborne forms—the weakest and least practiced of my elements. Furthermore, I restricted the use of Dawn's Ballad. I bore no blade as I sparred with Bairon and Varay. And yet, even with those handicaps, it had been a simple affair to pick apart the white core mages.
"Your strength is still needed, Lance Varay," I said, offering her a solemn smile. "My strength may be growing yet, but I am one man. One mage. This war isn't won by singular mages."
The ice-cold Lance nodded sharply, but I could tell my words did little to quiet her reservations. Each and every mage the Council could employ was feeling the strain of our constant missions and battles against the beasts ravaging Sapin's countryside. Even as the citizens of Sapin were encouraged to flock toward the more populated cities for protection, we still found ourselves spread thin.
I wasn't the only one lamenting my lack of power.
Thoughts of my last conversation with my father welled up like magma from a trench, but I refused to let those thought find purchase. I compressed them back down, suppressing everything that risked throwing me off my point.
I turned to the side as Gideon stomped forward, bags under his eyes and the usual crazed glimmer in his eye. "You wouldn't happen to have some sort of magical idea to detect and read absurdly subtle fluctuations of mana inside that overly-big head of yours, would you?" he ground out, his greasy hair popping up in frizzles. "Because this entire thing was pointless if not! I couldn't catch a thing of those strange forms of yours. It was like they didn't even register to the sensors in the ground."
"I don't," I admitted, scratching the back of my head as I stared at Sylvie. "I think if we need more training, we'll have to do it outside the castle."
"Maybe in the Darvish wastes," Sylvie said helpfully, only partially joking. My draconic bond was still uncertain about her ability to really keep control of her dark, Vritra-coded powers. "There isn't much to destroy on the surface there."
Gideon huffed in annoyance at the mention of Darv. "The Council should have left me in Vildorial. I was doing good work! But noooo, they thought the city was under threat. I was close to a breakthrough with the fire salts, I tell you. But they didn't want to listen," he exclaimed, throwing up his arms.
"If by breakthrough, you meant intermittent explosions and shrapnel every five hours of the day," Emily Watsken said as she approached, "then yes, you were about to have a breakthrough."
As Gideon devolved into irritated mumbling and lamentations of the Council's foolishness, Emily focused on Sylvie and me, her eyes uncertain behind her glasses. Her green hair shadowed much of her face. "Did you figure anything out about those new abilities of yours?" she pressed, fidgeting slightly. "Gideon was right; we did struggle to get concrete readings. I know you asked, but…"
I sighed. The abilities of my manifested weapon were unique and many-faceted. When I embodied each element, making myself an amalgamation of fire, water, earth, or wind, it became infinitely easier to sense and manipulate said element, but I also lost every ability to sense and utilize the opposing element and their deviations. The aether that coursed through the acclorite in my blood served to bind it all together in one cohesive whole.
"I noticed that my thoughts and emotions are affected by each manaborne form," I said after a minute of thinking. "When I embody wind, part of me seems to really think I'm the summer breeze. And when I become the stone, I wouldn't mind sitting and meditating like a boulder for an eternity."
Emily whipped out a notepad and began quickly jotting these things down as I said them. Sylvie moved off to the side, working with Varay to clear away the aftermath of our spar with controlled bursts of conjured black fire, while the human Lance worked to ensure that the dark flames wouldn't spread out of control.
This was Sylvie's training, in a way. To ensure she could maintain a grip on the decaying and devouring nature of her spells, she made certain to wash away the traces of our battles the best she could in small, incremental steps.
I slowly outlined the strange effects of each form to Emily. How I felt more emotional and passionate when fireborne, filled with a desire to move and explode and strike. The graceful movements of waterborne were similar to those of windborne, but not the same. How I felt cool and tranquil, able to be still and silent.
Despite the caustic words he'd thrown earlier, Gideon watched with rapt attention as Emily continued to scribble down her notes.
"Say, brat," he said, pointing a finger at my mana core, "you said you lost that Realmheart form of yours when you nearly killed yourself for the dozenth time. You told us way back when that it gave you a burst of insight into mana, which was how you were able to manipulate it to the ninety-ninth percentile." His eyes narrowed, a true scientist's gleam there despite his bedraggled appearance. "Is this the same? You're able to influence the ambient mana in an absurd and unparalleled way with these 'manaborne' forms of yours."
I blinked, surprised by this avenue of questioning, then furrowed my brows. I watched as Sylvie continued to work to burn away linkering spikes of earth and ice that littered the too-small training room, focusing on the flickering black fire between her palms.
"No," I said after a minute, recalling the overarching presence of Realmheart's insights as they scoured through my veins. "When I used Realmheart, it was as if I was looking at all the mana from above. I was… larger than the mana. I could see from outside the cup, I guess. I could see from the perspective of one unburdened by it all."
I felt my expression darken as I compared the two states, saying each word as it came to me. "But these forms… I'm not above the mana. Not beyond it, like I was with Realmheart. It's like… it's like I am the mana when I use them. I see from the perspective of fire. From the viewpoint of earth and wind. And I know the thoughts of water," I finished, feeling slightly embarrassed by the pseudo-philosophical words I put to it all.
I had far greater insight into each individual element when using my manaborne forms compared to Realmheart, but that came at the cost of losing an entire affinity as well as no strengthening of my other powers. Overall, I couldn't be certain it was a worthy tradeoff.
"Don't think like that, Arthur," Sylvie chastised over our bond. "You have the tools you need. A path for growing stronger with your strange influence over aether and your call to the mana. We just need the time and space to grow."
I know, Sylv, I thought darkly, images of the past dozen battles I'd had with offshoots of the beast horde as it spread through Sapin, but it just feels like it's not enough. Like it's never enough.
Sylvie finally returned, looking down at her hands. I could feel a bit of her trepidation as she did so, uncomfortable with the concept of these decaying fires bending to her will. After all, her aetheric path was vivum. She was a healer. Yet her new powers seemed fundamentally opposed to healing entirely.
It was ironic. She had partially broken past the seal her mother placed on her, but it led in an entirely different direction than what she desired.
"There is a path here," she thought to me, almost quietly. a smattering of dark soulfire appearing between her fingers. "Insight that connects my powers, Arthur. It scares me. What I might be able to do. A healer, but… not."
Gideon and Emily both watched the flickering flames in Sylvie's hands with a level of healthy caution, unwilling to get too close. Even Varay showed wariness, keeping a distance from the abnormally silent fire.
"I've got to get to tallying all these numbers," Gideon said gruffly as he began to move away, muttering something under his breath. "Always more problems you present me with, boy! Damn you and your intrigues."
Emily trailed nervously behind her master, shooting us apologies as she tried to get him to listen to something about a schedule. Varay wasn't long behind, giving both Sylvie and me a look I couldn't fully decipher.
And finally, we were alone in the training hall. I allowed my bond's earlier worries to filter through my head as I tried to find the right thing to say.
It's not easy, I know, I thought to my bond, walking over and laying a hand on her shoulder. No others would close that distance. But I'll help in any way I can. There are–
I turned my head in surprise as I felt a familiar mana signature approaching, my internal thoughts falling away. It was surprisingly strong—far stronger than I expected it to be. But I also could sense the grim, turbulent aura trailing in its wake.
I felt a knot grow in my chest as the mana signature drew closer and closer. Sylvie sensed it too, her eyes widening and a smile finally banishing her earlier consternation. I felt a slight smile of my own grow in response at how giddy my bond became–literally bouncing from foot to foot in anticipation that slowly swelled like a balloon.
Even with the foreboding aura that followed after the familiar signature, it was hard not to feel a measure of contentment as Sylvie's eyes sparkled.
"Oh, it's been so long," Sylv said excitedly, seeming torn between staying at my side and blurring over to the edge of the room to await the new arrival. "Quick, Arthur! Do you think she'll recognize me? She has to, right?" my bond said, blinking up at me as she gripped my hand tightly.
If I were to tell anyone that the anxious teenage girl right beside me was a mighty dragon, granddaughter of the most powerful being in this world, and part-time fox-shifter, I thought with wry amusement, then they'd tell me to eat my shoe.
Tessia finally appeared at the edge of the training room—and I immediately felt my rising good mood vanish. My childhood friend's clothes were covered in innumerable cuts and scrapes, the once intricate garment torn to shreds. Her face was covered in a smattering of dirt and blood, and her gunmetal gray hair was mussed and windswept.
Her turquoise eyes were hard. Far, far too hard.
She paused at the edge of the training room as she observed the barebones landscape. But before she could even focus on me, Sylvie was already rushing for her on swift steps.
On apparent instinct, Tessia shifted her stance, her hands twitching as if under threat as she focused on Sylv's approach.
Oh, no, I thought grimly, recognizing the signs of battle shock from two lifetimes of experience. She's just left a fight. Her mind is still there, but she shouldn't have been battling at all. Not in Zestier.
Sylvie slowed abruptly, shifting in confusion as she saw Tess' wary look. "Oh… Tessia? It's me. It's Sylvie. I broke part of my mother's seal, so I can take a human form now! I should've said something, of course, but–"
Sylvie cut off abruptly as Tess hugged her—hugged her hard. I slowly approached as worry began to seep in from everywhere at once, my mind working to try and piece this together.
My bond returned the hug with genuine warmth. Despite the absolute crushing grip Tess held her in, she didn't show any discomfort as she held my childhood friend. "It's okay, Tessia," my bond whispered softly as I finally reached them. "It's okay. I'm here."
It was with surprise that I noticed glimmering tears streaking down Tessia's dirt-stained cheeks. Her eyes were shut tight as she buried her face in Sylvie's shoulder, bits of blood and dust grinding into Sylvie's dark dress as she held on as if there were nothing else in the world.
I finally came to a stop at Sylvie's side. I felt tempted to reach out a comforting arm and rub circles on Tessia's back—like I used to do whenever she wept long ago in our youth on the borders of the Elshire Forest—but I hesitated.
Tess sniffled, finally pulling herself away from my bond as she took a few deep breaths. Sylvie was slightly taller than my childhood friend, but Tessia looked older. I couldn't tell if that was because of her actual features or the look she had in her eye. The set of her jaw and the dullness in her cheeks.
The Princess of Elenoir looked at Sylvie—really looked at her. Then she turned to me, doing the same.
I felt exposed. "Hey, Tess," I said awkwardly, resisting the urge to scratch the back of my neck. Instead, I diverted my attention, looking her up and down and noting the many patches of blood and debris clinging to her. She truly appeared as if she'd rushed straight from battle. The scent of it clung to her. I felt the urge to poke and prod at the tears in her dress, looking for wounds. I hadn't even known she'd been in any sort of danger. "Are you injured anywhere? Do you need healing for whatever happened? I can–"
Tess' eyes didn't waver. "When were you going to tell me?" she asked in a soft voice.
The question I'd always feared.
My words died in my throat as I fished for something to say, my thoughts beginning to spin as I tried uselessly to come up with an answer that would satisfy her question. That didn't show how selfish I was, and–
Tess looked back down to Sylvie, her brow creasing slightly. "You told me a while ago that you were expecting Sylvie to awaken soon. Something about the mana in Uto's horn." She peered at me from behind shadowed bangs of deepest silver. "You should have sent a message. Sent a word of some kind, Art. About something so… world-changing."
Sylvie detached from Tess as we stared at each other, the young asura sensing the unspoken conversation between us.
Because I had given my answer to Tess' question. The true question that she'd asked beneath the veneer of Sylvie's human form.
And I'd answered it with my silence.
"I only gained this form a few weeks ago," Sylvie said slowly, sensing—and no doubt understanding—the tension between us. "Almost every day, Arthur and I have been on the wing, though, searching for mana beasts across Sapin. He hasn't had the chance to do much else, Tessia. Nothing but train, and fight, and…"
Sylvie shook her head sharply, her locks swaying. "I can sense that you aren't hurt, Tessia," she said calmly, "but there's something more. We didn't know about any battle you could've been in, but you look like you've gone through half a dozen dungeons without even stopping to change."
Tess looked at Sylvie, her eyes welling up with sorrowful tears once more. Her lip trembled, but when she spoke, no tears fell and her words were like iron. "The Alacryans," she said. "they attacked Zestier, and Grandpa won't wake up."