As tempting as it was to raid the basin and snipe away its horde of guards, Julia knew it could quickly go wrong. In the erratic Limbo, only one other place so far held a sense of permanency. The breeding pens below, even with their massive space, felt shallow compared to the Monastery. And Julia could only hope they’d trade some knowledge of the Plane. Picturing the Monastery wall a kilometre away, she teleported there without issue.
Instead of merely floating in the void, awaiting their acknowledgement, Julia’s will made a platform. Rather than bare rock, her imagination formed rich loam and, in an exercise of will flowers bloomed. Within a circle of garden beds, she knelt on a core of vibrant green grass. Aware that each blade and flower were identical to each other, Julia started pushing alterations into it, making maintaining it a challenge. Plain garden beds grew decorative borders and moved around till Julia was happy with their appearance. A simple maze with multiple options at every turn. To Julia, it echoed life. On every path, there are choices; in how you react, if nothing else. As the platform expanded, individual roses changed colours, growing or shrinking, blooming or wilting. Some plant life grew healthier, while others appeared eaten by insects.
Though Julia turned off Angelic Aura, she left the Ki protections in place as hours became days. Julia was sure the Monastery’s leaders would take however long they wanted before reacting to her presence. Though even at this distance, she could feel the observers focused on her. Time Sense ticked along, tracking beats, and made it clear the fifth day hadn’t passed when a figure appeared floating in the void. Though his placement was along a path, he stayed floating while examining her creation.
With her will holding its formation, Julia was aware when his mind brushed against its elements. Not to challenge her, but out of curiosity, it quickly became clear he was cataloguing its aspects. From the grains of wood in the garden bed’s borders to the brown marks or insect bites she’d set on blades of grass. He wore no armour, rather only simple robes and bare feet. The fabric was a sturdy deep brown without marks or ornamentation, belted at the waist with a woven cord. His long hair was in a topknot that emphasised his features’ angularity and the solid grey of his hair.
When he moved at last, he followed the garden paths with grace and surety and settled kneeling facing Julia. Analysis gave Julia his name as Duurth and a list of Prestige Classes: Psion Ascetic, High Anarch, and Psion Paramount.
“Know there is no need for your mask, Traveller,” Duurth stated as he knelt facing Julia.
So it wasn’t just Niarna’s speech pattern.
Storing the Noh mask and brushing back the hood she’d formed in the shadow vines, Julia merely waited for him to speak. It was almost ten minutes before he said anything, but as the silence had stretched, Julia could feel his will roaming through the platform. The roots of the roses, even the earthworms, that she’d visualised within the soil. They’d taken on a life of their own days ago, and she wondered what had guided the formation of their instincts.
“Why did you place imperfections within?”
“Life isn’t perfect, and neither am I,” replied Julia, and saw understanding in Duurth’s gaze.
“Know thyself,” Duurth stated.
“I’m still working on that,” Julia ruefully admitted.
“Know you are unusual for one of your kind if you seek to learn of yourself,” Duurth said as he considered her reaction. “What do you wait for, Fallen?”
Did someone send out a memo? Or do I smell of Sulphur?
“I didn’t wish to be considered an intruder this time,” Julia replied. “I have questions and information to exchange.”
“Know it is rare we would trade with a Fallen,” admitted Duurth. “What information do you have to exchange?”
“Fallen not by my own choice but by another’s; I seek to break their chains. As your people gained their freedom, I seek my own. If I was truly a Fallen, could I do this?” Julia asked, casting a simple light glowing with Celestial Mana. Though its light across her skin itched, it was a minor pain to endure. “Knowledge on the Slaadi, and a Githzérai Prime Anarch named Krlakai, who’s helping them.” His gaze danced between the light and Julia, his features remaining composed, till Krlakai’s name drew a frown.
“Know there are only a few so powerful; he died four years ago,” argued Duurth, his tone grim.
The attacks on Asgard started three years ago. Did they take a year for initial preparations, or is it a coincidence?
Julia put out a hand and grew it into a perfect mask of Krlakai’s features.
“Is this the Krlakai that died? Know I have a talent for knowing people’s name - Duurth.”
Great, now I’m falling for their pattern.
“Know that I wish to learn more and where you saw him,” Duurth hissed. His mouth was twisting in bitterness as his narrowing gaze burrowed into the likeness that Julia had created. “Know the Slaadi are in constant conflict with us; his aiding them is treachery to all Githzérai.”
“He was working for the Slaadi, maintaining a stable area for breeding pens,” replied Julia, watching his gaze hardening with every word. “There were thousands of captive Demons and Devils taken from the Blood Wars. When I saw him, he was speaking with Yaro Yiyan.”
“Know you bring a concerning tale, but it is hard to trust when your mind is so well shielded,” Duurth admitted warily, his gaze meeting hers.
“If you have the means, I can scry the position, and you could verify,” Julia offered before continuing. ”Since I’m sure you wouldn’t trust me to teleport you there.”
“Know you are correct, but there is a different way,” Duurth stated. “Teleport there alone, and I’ll determine if you lie.”
“My mind is impossible to read, and I’m hard to scry as well. You might have trouble following me,” responded Julia apologetically.
“Know that we detected the energies of your arrival; thus I’ll trace the energy left in your passage,” Duurth countered with a wry smile.
“A spell to trace a teleport, that’s useful,” Julia breathed enviously. “Very well, but I’ll teleport over the ridgeline from the area he’s formed. I’ll not risk appearing in his line of sight.”
I wonder if they can do that trick with Planar Shifts as well. It might help me trace the Lady once I’m strong enough to risk hunting her.
“Regardless, if by tracing your Teleport I reveal your tale to be a lie, do not return,” responded Duurth.
“Okay, I’ll give you plenty of time to verify it before I return.”
Julia became a pebble and teleported to the ridgeline, her gear enfolded within the form. The basin remained, though there was a change in prisoners. Krlakai was still sitting above the plinth, though fortunately Yaro Yiyan wasn’t around. Julia returned after scouring the basin’s interior with True Sight to confirm the pens held only Demons and Devils. The platform was still present, and Duurth was awaiting her return, eyes closed in quiet contemplation.
It was some time after she knelt that he finally opened his eyes to regard her.
“Know I have spoken to others they will act on your findings,” Duurth admitted reluctantly. “What is it you seek to learn?”
“About the Spawning Stone. The Slaadi’s eggs are fertilising quickly recently, and they’ve been attacking Asgard for hosts. Though I’d also like someone to teach me the spell list to trace a teleport.”
“Know that we have volumes regarding the Slaadi, their Lords, and the Spawning stone; I will permit you entry to read them. Know the method for tracking Teleports isn’t a spell but a Psion technique.”
Oh.
“What’s required to learn those?” asked Julia seriously, her expression mirroring her tone.
Duurth just snorted, but his eyes widen at Julia’s evident determination.
“How do you expect us to teach you if we can’t show you the mental techniques to learn?”
“I can read minds,” Julia countered, giving a shrug at Duurth’s incredulous look, and gestured at the Monastery. “I haven’t tried, I’d thought it would be rude. When I was here, I could feel Niarna consulting with others but didn’t determine more.”
“Know that learning our techniques takes discipline and focus, a weak-willed entity will have-” Julia’s wry smile stopped Duurth’s retort.
“I don’t know the strength of my will compared to your own, but I’m willing to try if you are,” Julia replied, her smile unfaded.
“Know that when you fail, we will not provide a different reward; as for the Slaadi texts, if you study with us and obey our rules you may read them while in the Monastery. Know once we determine you cannot learn, you will no longer have access to them,” said Duurth, his tone firm and as hardened as his features had become.
“If I’m able to learn your techniques, may I come and go from the Monastery?” Julia enquired, considering her options.
“For what purpose would you wish to do so?” asked Duurth, eyeing her curiously.
“The Slaadi have been attacking Asgard; I’ve friends defending it that I wish to help. I’m also seeking means to gain my freedom from this state, and restore the freedom of others,” said Julia honestly.
Duurth didn’t reply, and Julia could barely sense his mind conversing with others. It was nearly half an hour before he spoke again, but Julia stayed kneeling. As she examined the platform, she could sense his focus on it, even while his mind was busy in conversation. Not only had he kept the imperfections, but he’d also added insects.
“Know your presence in the Monastery will be disruptive; you’ll not mingle with students until you learn control,” Duurth finally stated, and Julia brought her attention back to him.
“I didn’t think you believed I could learn the ways of a Psion,” Julia argued, wondering what restriction he was planning to place.
“Know I meant control over the force of personality you project,” Duurth declared firmly, giving her a puzzled frown.
“You know how to do that?!” exclaimed Julia, her gaze shining with her surprise.
“Why do you think we would not know if I require it of you?“ retorted Duurth, clearly puzzled by Julia’s response. “Know that mind, spirit and will contribute to a Psion’s path; the mind is essential to determine growth, but some paths also require the strength of will or spirit. Know that the attraction and uncertainty you cause in others is your spirit at work, the force of your personality.”
“I would like to learn more about this Paramount Duurth,” Julia stated as she smiled with open anticipation.
“How do you know the path on which I walk?” Duurth asked, his general suspicion giving way slowly to open curiosity.
“I have a Skill that lets me see people’s names and bits of information about them.”
“Know that you are interesting, Fallen, and not what I had expected,” Duurth admitted begrudgingly. Though Julia didn’t quite know how to take the nod, he tacked onto his admission.
“I’m always uniquely me. Please call me Eakcï, not Fallen,” offered Julia calmly.
“Know that I feel Eakcï is only part of the truth. Is there more?” Duurth asked, and Julia just shook her head before she replied.
“Nothing that will bring danger to yourself or your Monastery, rather names my friends use.”
Laying all my cards out when you’ve doubted me at every turn - yeah, that’s not on the agenda. I made that mistake too many times.
When Duurth nodded at her response, the platform started moving towards the Monastery, but so smoothly that there was no sensation. It was only by the shrinking separation she’d noticed it at all. When Julia put her hood and mask back in place, Duurth gave only the slightest nod in acknowledgement of her precaution.
They didn’t go over the Monastery’s black wall; instead an archway formed at their approach, and Duurth moved the platform inside.
“Do you wish to keep this construct, or might I make use of it?” Duurth asked as the passage enclosed the eight-metre width of her platform.
“I made it merely for practice while I waited. If you have a use for it, feel free,” replied Julia.
“Know that maintaining another’s construct is a challenge for those learning. Know I would assign it to a student since it has objects they would not have seen within its limits,” explained Duurth, gesturing to the grass and roses.
“Does someone have to maintain the Monastery?” Julia asked as a glance behind found the archway seamlessly closing.
“Know that to maintain anything not worn by someone requires an Anarch’s skill. Know that anything left unattended will revert to Limbo’s chaos,” explained Duurth.
When they stopped moving, Duurth gestured to another brown-robed Githzérai. As thin and wiry as the rest, they were the first female Githzérai she’d encountered.
[Name: Domleha
Species: Githzérai
Class: Wizard / Psion
Level: 52 / 52
Health: 936
Mana: 39,312
Magic: 72
Defence: 154
Melee Attack Power: 64
Combat Skills: Dagger [Ad] (2), Staff [Ad] (5), Various Spell Forms - Affinities: Air, Fire, Water, Steam, Smoke.
Details: Domleha grew up in the Githzérai city of Zerthimon’s Rest. She won a position in the Monastery of Will’s Hand at age sixteen to become a High Anarch. ]
”Know that I expect this platform to be maintained by you alone. Know that you will inform me when ready for it to be released entirely to your will,” stated Duurth before rising. As he did so, Julia followed, noticing Domleha’s attention already fixed on the platform and a will far weaker than Duurth’s was moving through its substance. Domleha’s only response had been simply to bow to Duurth before her attention shifted to the platform still floating half a metre from the ground.
“Know I will assign you a room for your quiet meditations; we’ll see if you should hope for any progress,” Duurth stated, addressing Julia again, his tone as sceptical as before.
The Monastery was the same Escher structure Julia had seen from the outside. She followed Duurth up a set of stairs that twisted upside down at a landing. A normal-looking doorway at the stair’s top let them into a building where they walked along the corridor’s wall. It was a literal spiral staircase, each step being a wall tile, and as they moved onto it, the door closed behind them. Their path took them slowly higher into the tower with every turn before finally exiting into a normally orientated corridor.
The walls possessed minimal decoration: only a subtle inlay of waves broke up the starkness. Sturdy looking tiles, all perfectly square, covered nearly everything including the eight doors along its length. Duurth directed Julia towards the first door with a glance.
“Know this will be your meditation and sleeping chamber for the short time you stay with us,” Duurth stated, his tone firmly convinced.
“So, my room for however long it is,” Julia replied, comforted somewhat by the lack of wards she’d seen. The room’s interior was stark, with a single stone bed, a desk and a stool. There was a chest at the bed’s end, but neither bookcases nor decorations. The only other exit was a hinged window across from them, allowing a view of Limbo’s maelstrom.
“Would it be alright if I send my friends a message? They should know of the breeding pens,” said Julia.
“Who are these friends you wish to inform?” Duurth enquired, and Julia suppressed a smile at the drollness in his sceptical tone.
“One is Torm, a Vargr Drangijaz in the service of Týr, the Norse God of Justice on a world I’ve visited.”
Duurth tilted his head in thought as if Julia’s words made little sense to him.
“A servant of a God of Light,” Julia stated, hoping that might draw recollection.
“Know your first lesson will start after you do so; warn them to stay away from him, we will deal with him,” replied Duurth, moving to sit on the stool. “What knowledge do you have of Psions?”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Julia paused, remembering sci-fi stories with mind powers, but a shortlist was all that came to mind.
“They use mental powers instead of magic to: read thoughts, move objects, influence beings, see and hear things at a distance, predict the future, astral projection and more.”
“Know you are more aware than many; your nature itself will possess a challenge both to your learning and your mastery of such a path,” stated Duurth.
“What skills will I need to learn?” Julia asked, wondering if she could push things along with her skill points.
“Know that will depend on the path you pursue,” Duurth replied, looking bemused at her question.
“Could you please elaborate?”
“Know I will bring-,” Duurth hesitated as he responded but continuing changed tact. “Can you read tir’su script? Know books in the Monastery are only written in that fashion.”
Julia checked her language list and as she unlocked Gith, she felt the familiar rush of awareness and understood what he meant by tir’su. The writing style laid out the letters of each word in a circle, the pattern becoming clear as an understanding of them unfolded in her awareness.
“That won’t be a problem,” Julia reassured with a firm nod.
“Know your first task then is to enter my mind as you claimed you could,” stated Duurth, frowning as Julia’s speech shifted from magical translation to native Gith.
At least he’s telling me to try, and I’m not just butting in.
“I’ll first cast Mercury’s Whisper to let my friends know the information and your warning,” countered Julia.
“Yngvarr, I’ve found a Monastery of the Githzérai; they’re Monks, Wizards, and Psions. They’ve offered to train me, including controlling my projection of spirit that makes me so eye-catching. I found a massive Slaadi breeding pen controlled by Yaro Yiyan, but the Githzérai will deal with the one who is maintaining it. Please stay safe as you can fighting in Asgard.”
As she released the spell, she was aware of Duurth’s concentration upon it as the Spatial Mana vanished away with the message. A response came within minutes, and Duurth’s gaze fixed on the mote of energy whispering to Julia.
“Training! After ten years of constant fighting and training, you should have given yourself time to rest. So sweet of you to worry about Torm’s safety, I mean our, yes, of course, our safety. We’re not fighting in his home realm within Asgard, so he has no chance of permanent destruction. He has news but it’s good news, thus it can wait; I want to see your face when you hear it. We’ll pass on details about Yaro Yiyan’s activities. Enjoy your training, though I’m not passing notes in class for you.”
With a mental eye-roll at the laughing tone in Yngvarr’s message, Julia nodded politely to Duurth.
“I’m ready to begin.”
“How do you sense my mind with your Power?” Duurth questioned, his posture perfectly composed.
Telepathy’s net provided a mental image of a black metal sphere when Julia stretched it toward him.
“A metal sphere as black as the Monastery’s walls,” Julia answered after she checked around its boundary.
“Could you see no way inside?” Duurth asked confidently.
“It feels a solid and seamless sphere,” replied Julia cautiously, sure his abilities justified his self-assurance but aware of how recently such confidence had trapped Viper.
“Good, focus and try again.”
Julia meditated then reached out with Telepathy and tried to perceive the details of the defence. After long minutes of examining it a simple door shimmered into view in its side. As bland as the door to her room, the simple hinged clapper hung on its middle, presented an unmistakable message. As she mentally reached out, the clapper moved without a touch, and Julia found herself inside a room.
Glancing about the chamber, it was covered with detailed tapestries, with statues or engraving of dragons and fantastical creatures filling the gaps between them. Two plain chairs sat in the room’s centre, an image of Duurth appeared gesturing for her to sit. Aware that she’s in the hold of another mind, Julia sat carefully and hoped her mental protections would keep her secure.
“Know first you must determine a class, and then its path.”
Julia heard his thoughts as though he’d spoken aloud as he took the other seat in his mind, and more images appeared within. They were all presented as Githzérai, but the difference between them was clear. Glancing between each, as her attention flickered over them, the meaning of them became clear. Each was a Psion class and its paths for some the differences were slight, others they were more striking.
Simple robed Psions stood beside Psychic Warriors their forged will empowering weapons and armour alike. Others had living creatures arrayed around them: giant figures made of ectoplasm, instead of Limbo’s Chaos, guarded one figure, while the same ectoplasm wrapped another in living armour. A figure wielding a blade of pure thought drew Julia’s amused interest before passing over it and others that were wrong for her and back to the robed Psion.
As her attention passed by them, the figures disappeared, and a range of others came forth. One she dismissed at once, not needing its skill to shape her flesh, and travelling so much alone meant gaining powers to heal another’s flesh seemed a waste. Julia dismissed ways that offered the most skills to enhance the abilities of others for the same reason.
“Which gives me the most ways to affect or trace teleporting?”
“Know either the general Psion Class or its Nomad’s path will allow such,” replied Duurth, considering her for a moment. ”Know each path allows the fastest improvement of its focus; they still allow you to learn other skills but prevent their perfection.”
“So like everything, it’s a tradeoff,” Julia concluded as she considered the impression she had gotten from it. “Was I right in sensing it could move others across planes without moving yourself? I’ve already got several Powers and Spells for such, this seems different.”
“Know its focus is on any form of travelling; it Skills and Powers focus on being able to affect anyone’s movements.”
Duurth’s thoughts projected a stream of details to her about the Class. The strength of will involved increased her interest. Julia considered his words as he waited patiently and reconsidered the impression of the other options before deciding.
“The strength of the practitioner will enforce imagined alterations onto reality, slowing, speeding, preventing, and changing movements.”
“Know you have understood correctly.”
“I’d like to train as a Nomad, please,” Julia requested, directing her attention towards Duurth. Her plans involving enchantments to secure the Lady and others growing with the chance to hold them in place by her own will.
“Know that first, your ability to become a Psion needs to be confirmed.”
It was hours before Duurth left with a promise to bring books before the next training session. Though Julia still hadn’t understood how to unlock Psionic energy within herself, Duurth’s sceptical attitude had lessened. A remark about the adequate state of her mind, spirit, and will had displayed a slight thawing in his ice. Shrinking to a tiny form, she practiced her martial arts in the minimal space allowed by the room.
----------------------------------------
Usd’ghi PoV
“Lady Epochē, I fetched her as you instructed. Is there anything else you need?”
Pela’narni’ghi’s voice attracts my attention and I take in the disappointment as well. The words weren’t necessary but I can hope the message in the planned delays is clear. I absently take in the ivory skin and void black hair as she follows Pela in. It's pleasing to see she's followed some instructions, at least since she's hidden her tiara of horns away. Yet the straps she's chosen as clothes make her appear as one of Set's little pets, and that is not acceptable. Given how busy she's been playing with everything and anyone, she'd best have remembered the rest.
“Double check Krila’s ledgers. Any more information after the battle in Ternòx?”
Not that I expect there to be, and we've already spent enough.
“No, your Ladyship. Should I have your agents continue the seeking?” Pel asked sceptically, and I agree with her assessment.
“We’re just grinding the same stones. Instruct them to stay alert for new sightings, but no further expenditure for now. The other matters?”
“The Sisterhood has completed their withdrawal from Àluga. Just under half the original members have vanished. They’re still restructuring. The primary focus appears to be the search for J. There is no further expansion of the Lómë’s grottos. Its tower remains sealed. The seekers have gathered the last of the Ascended Larvae. The destruction in.. ”
I partly listen to the summaries, hoping that making her wait through a bell of increasingly dull snippets will show Viper her low place. At least I had hoped she’d get the message, but her increasingly impatient shifting makes that seem unlikely.
“Tell me Viper, have you considered our last discussion properly?”
The soft enquiry makes her wince as my sheers snip the thread. Yet the snarl stays tangled as it somehow remains intact. The strand merely shimmers like a ray of sunlight, unaffected as I cut it again.
“I’ve learnt Mana Manipulation.”
The dusk emerald explodes when it shatters on the floor before her; while the fragments draw sweet blood, it is more the sound that stills my rage.
“I will include the cost of that among the rest of your debts.”
I’d snatched it up and thrown it without a second thought. My remark seeks to buy time for us both to calm, but the impulsive nature of J’s remains shows itself again.
“The vaults I’ve filled will easily cover it,” objected Viper.
“You filled nothing! None of that belongs to you! SHE filled them, so after your failure, none of it is yours. She left you with nearly nothing! Then you wasted so much of what she left!”
It’s an effort to keep from screaming at the insipid fool my Herald has become. I’ll not give her credit now for such riches.
“But Usd’ghi-”
Her sulky whisper stills as my spell’s power steals her tongue, though the moist flesh fails to satisfy my mood. The black blood spat onto marble doesn’t bother me, and my mood calms slightly as I consume her flesh. The tongue’s flesh parts sweetly spilling blood across my tastebuds.
“Never interrupt me. The next time I ask a question, the words that follow best be in answer to it.”
“Of course."
Flesh and bone striking the wall brings a pleasing echo as I rise, the power unleashed with barely a thought here in my Domain.
“That wasn’t a question. Until you’ve earned the right, you speak and exist only at my sufferance. We have a debt to Queen Mab because of your failings, so that is now all on you. Considering your Orc worshipers have all parted ways after J's show of power, you’ve even less to repay that debt. A new beginning for them all, one that required little difference in their respect, you let her allies steer your worshipper’s beliefs. Some would rather follow Dwarven warrior Gods than the mewling waste of space that you are now.”
A glance stills Viper’s tongue though I could have done with another treat. The reduction in Powers and Skills below even the original true imprint I’d taken from J grates against my nerves. J had never intoned her remaining Name to me, so I’ve nothing to trace her by, only an impulsive child to manage as my Herald. Raging flares of unbridled Power consumed the thinnest of strands that had been left between us.
“Have you gained the Dominator Class as yet?”
“Yes.”
Viper’s reply is sulky but following instructions at least is a start.
“Good.” The word snapped out and I still my anger before I speak again. “You need to raise your Willpower out of the pit it’s in. Speak to Pela’narni’ghi, she’ll arrange your training. Consider our last conversation further, you clearly missed the point.”
I don’t watch her leave, but return to the strand as the door closes. The glowing strand shimmers again, its light reflecting off my shears as I repeatedly fail to cut it. Each attempt only seems to make the snarl around it worse, and I lay them aside.
At least Ùeqräkas’ rebuilding promises to turn a profit, and so many meeting their end provided quite a power boost.
“I backed the wrong side, yet even when she hurts my interests I find her helping in other ways.”
The spell forms in a moment and I send instructions out.
“Lêdhins I have a job for you, your insult to me is forgiven. You can pick up the details from Viper’s Hollow, ask for the new manager. Klipyl has departed seeking another benefactor, if you see her, end her.”
Considering the imprint she'd taken from Viper on her arrival made her want to flay her again.
Name Viper True Name
----------------------------------------
Hair the colour of autumn moves in the breeze, as a honeyed skinned lady of ethereal Elven beauty nods politely to one held within eternal shadow. As she pays her respects a crystal trinket passes between their assistants.
“Well played Mab. Another game?”
Words with an echoing of summer’s warmth grow cold as they cross the distance between them.
“What did you have in mind Titania?”
The reply is devoid of emotion, but lips within the shadow twists into a mockery of a smile.
----------------------------------------
Livia’s PoV
Auras shift in the changing light of dawn as I shadow box among the trees. Their energies provoked by shifting light and early spring winds dance in ways that challenge my ability to react. Darkness spears towards me as a push of wind against a massive branch causes aura and wood to crack. I roll aside as a few stray leaves brush past while the branch crashes down where I had been. The noise of its breaking and impact causing guards to call out in alarm. Its weight smashes into flagstones, and a metal fence screams. The impact showers me with dust and stones that fail to even bruise through the Ki I hold in my skin. As I dance away, danger shiver down my spine, surging winds causing more branches to fall in a rapid cascade yet none connect.
“Livia, are you alright?”
Turning towards the speaker, I take in the aura energies of her presence and let my focus on them soften. My perception of them never fades but I long ago learnt to control it, as some show their truths brighter than others. As the hues about her ease in my sight, the physical textures become clearer, and I see she looks ready for battle. I don’t know how she stands having all that metal on her: the helm, hauberk, gauntlets and even armoured boots. Where she sees protection, I see a truly ungainly weight. At least at this distance, I’m not risking a crick in my neck from meeting her gaze. She’s years younger, but her Norse blood ensures she’s already taller.
“I’m fine Ástríðr, I didn’t know you were on duty this morning.”
At my words, her broad smile shows honest relief, and the tension in her feather grey gaze eases. With a fidgeting motion, she pushes the end of her braid back under her helm. Though the vibrant hair is such a wonderful contrast to the deep red of her aura. In my first life I would have envied the richness of its wonderful autumn red, and the golden highlights; now I know myself far better.
“I’m not, just too excited. I tried to help prepare breakfast, but got shooed from the kitchen,” Ástríðr replies, an honest answer and what her aura already showed me. “Are you sure you and Gunnarr will stand as our sponsors for registering with the Adventurer’s guild?”
“I’d said I’d adventure with you this season I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”
I recognised the surge of pink among her hues at my answer, and I admit to myself it matches my happiness. Still she’s so excited I try to moderate things and calm her tones; but then I am twenty-two to her seventeen, although I’m told I act far older still.
“There’s no rush. You know Uni will not be awake.”
Even before I finish speaking, Ástríðr’s gaze is gleaming brighter.
“Oh, he’ll be there! If he’s not awake, Gunnarr will drag him out of bed and carry him,” said Ástríðr firmly. Her smile still not having faded instead, the pink brightens in time with its widening.
The image of the Uni bouncing about on Gunnarr’s shoulder, likely wrapped in bedding, would be an amusing one to see. Then again, he approaches many things with an energy I delight in, and it explains why he left watching my practice early.
“We’ll go shortly then.”
Turning to the closest branch, I cease to wonder if their fall was an omen or coincidence with the words leaving my lips. The trees had seemed so healthy when my practice had begun. Now, besides losing branches, their auras have faded beyond what softening my perceptions should bring. The thought tries to shiver through my mind as I focus Ki Infusion to draw Mana, and I bring my fist down. Instead of breaking off a manageable piece as expected it explodes into ash. The Order I’d drawn into flesh shattering against hidden Chaos, and the clash of forces unleashes destruction within the wood.
“Correction. There will be a delay in registering, I’ll need to speak to High Justice Verdandi.”
My tone stays calm, held within Harmony’s embrace, my emotional balance unwavering even as I recognise cause for concern.
“Your Uncle Torm is away, isn’t he?” asked Ástríðr. Her cheery tone turning serious and grim as her aura wavers.
“Yes, along with Yngvarr, Alfarr, and Rana; they’re off levelling.”
A simple explanation is often best especially since I’ve only been told about parts of the issues they face. Turning to Ástríðr, I see relief conflict with concern on her face; a dark yellow within her aura blooms as her features grow tight with stress. The ash from the branches swirl, and then stills as the sudden gusts cease.
“Why?” I ask, glancing towards a final zephyr depositing ash against a Temple’s fence.
“If he saw that, he’d be wanting to tuck you away somewhere safe. I’m sure you didn’t intentionally destroy the branch that way. It felt wrong, and I’ve never seen so many branches falling from gusts of wind. But now you tell me he isn’t here, I’m even more worried.”
“Felt wrong?”
No one else sees auras as I do, yet even I hadn’t felt direct wrongness from it, only a strangeness in its colours.
“Evil,” Ástríðr hesitantly said, pausing as if the word, even carrying the weight she’d conveyed in it, wasn’t right. “Not just Evil, it was Malicious, something within it wanted to harm you. It was no random thing someone set it against you, and didn’t care if someone else might get hurt.” A gesture towards the broken fencing close to some of Frigga’s guards certainly gives merit to her words.
“Ástríðr, now I really want to see what Class your registration shows for you.”