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“The conclusion of the Tournament normally calls for a vast banquet with three days of uninterrupted celebration, along with all manner of dancing and other events, culminating in a ceremony in which the reward is bequeathed to the victor,” Thaman trailed off, undoubtedly reminiscing fondly on past times.

“Sounds like quite the spectacle,” Vir said, trying and failing to imagine what tens of thousands of demons all merry-making must have looked like.

“Quite so,” Thaman said, sneaking a glance at Ashani, who was currently walking around, staring at all the decorations with intense concentration. Vir had caught the Raja shooting several glances her way, as if he couldn’t quite figure out whether to involve her in the conversation or pretend she didn’t exist. He seemed to decide upon the latter course of action for the time being.

Clearing his throat, the Bairan Raja continued. “Given the circumstances, however, I’m afraid we must forego such an event. The public would understand.”

“Forego the celebrations!?” Cirayus thundered, making everyone nearby cringe. “Blasphemy! It’s unholy!”

“You don’t seriously propose revelry at a time like this?”

“Not at all,” Cirayus said with a devilish grin. “I say we defer the celebration. Much better than canceling it, don’t you?” Cirayus spat the word as if it were a curse.

“Very well,” Thaman said with an exasperated smile. “We shall postpone the celebration, if that suits you, Champion.”

Vir nodded.

“That said, I can give you the inscription right here and now. I’ve a handful of Royal Thaumaturges who can carve the tattoo on your skin as soon as today, if you desire…”

While the words sounded sweet, the bitter look on Thaman’s face said otherwise.

“There’s more you’re not telling me,” Vir said. “Isn’t there?”

“Alas, there is. I presume your goal is to collect all the Ultimate Bloodline Arts, yes?”

Vir nodded. He’d given a great deal of thought whether to sacrifice the option of obtaining every Ultimate in favor of regular bloodline arts, but he’d held off. The promise of their power was simply too great. Besides, Vir couldn’t shake the feeling that it would be a terrible failure to not obtain them all.

“Then I’m afraid I must present you with some unfortunate news,” Thaman said, looking down at the table.

“There isn’t a Thaumaturge in the land who can inscribe all the tattoos, lad,” Cirayus completed. He’d crossed all four of his arms and was leaning against a pillar nearby.

“What do you mean? Thaman just said his Thaumaturges were up to the task.”

“Of inscribing one, yes,” Cirayus continued, turning to allow Vir to see the markings on his back. “See how large Balancer of Scales is?”

The tattoo took up most of his back, and much of his chest as well.

“How do you think you’ll fit all seven of the Ultimate Arts, eh? Not to mention the fabled Lost art of the Iksana, assuming you ever unearth that one.”

“Wait. Lost art?” Vir asked. “Why have I not heard of this?”

“Because it’s a tale so old, it might as well be a myth, that’s why,” Thaman said.

All eyes in the room, Ashani’s included, turned on Thaman. Vir never thought he’d see the veteran Raja squirm under anyone’s gaze, but it seemed even he was no match for the eyes of a being from the Age of Gods.

Realizing his discomfort, Ashani looked away, studiously gazing at a nearby pillar. Vir suppressed a grin. She’d noticed Thaman’s reaction and was trying to humor him.

Her plan worked, and Thaman regained enough of his wits to continue his story.

“A thousand years ago, a great war consumed the realm. One of many during the time. The Iksana became embroiled, joining one side. The wrong side, as it were. Jalak Kallol was eventually sacked, and with it went the only inscription of the fabled Art ever to exist. Some purport that the whole war was a front to destroy that very scroll.”

Vir couldn’t help but appreciate the irony of their situation. How close it was to his own tale…

“What did the scroll do? Usher in a new era for demonkind?” Vir quipped.

Thaman grimaced, while Cirayus barked a harsh laugh, and even Ashani giggled. Aida said nothing, her expression turning dark.

“Nothing quite so grand,” Thaman said. “Yet, some might argue, far more terrifying.”

“The art was called Reality Inversion,” Cirayus explained. “According to legend, it gave the Iksana the ability to create an illusion so potent as to become real. A spell that could rewrite reality itself.”

“You can’t mean…” Vir's eyes widened as he thought through what that truly meant.

“Indeed. It seems they could undo death, and even cause the living to suddenly die. The art consumed a tremendous amount of prana, and only worked on a localized scale, but even so… Terrifying, wouldn’t you say?”

“Horrifying,” Vir replied. “To think such an art ever existed.”

Thaman shrugged. “It might never have,” he said. “Many believe it was all Iksana propaganda. Either that, or a similar ability might really have existed once, but myths and time have warped it far beyond what it was ever capable of. In any case, we will never know.”

“Right,” Vir said, thankful he didn’t live in an era where such an ability might’ve existed. Purging the image from his mind, he turned his thoughts back to the topic at hand. “So you’re saying that if I allow your Thaumaturges to inscribe Balancer of Scales, I will be doomed to forego some of the others.”

“I’m afraid so,” Thaman said. “I know this is not the outcome you were hoping for.”

“Isn’t there anyone?” Vir said. “You’re telling me there’s nobody in this wide realm who can perform this feat? Distance is not an issue for me. It doesn’t matter if they’re in some remote village in the farthest reaches of Aindri territory or deep within the Iksana tunnels. I can get to them.”

Thaman sighed. “Not in this realm, I’m afraid. The only entity who requires this skill is the Akh Nara, and while there are those who seek to preserve your legacy, the last Akh Nara died over five hundred years ago. Time has not been kind to the keepers of this knowledge.”

“Keepers of the Akh Nara’s legacy?” Vir said, raising a brow as he looked at Cirayus. “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

Thaman looked equally surprised. “You haven’t told him?”

“Told me what?” Vir asked, now frowning. “What’s he talking about, Cirayus?”

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Vir’s godfather scratched his nose. “Well, I, er… It’s a difficult conversation to have, you know? I wanted to be sure the lad was ready. That he’d matured enough.”

“I daresay that time has come, Cirayus,” Thaman said. “Wouldn’t you?”

“‘Suppose you’re right,” Cirayus said with a sigh.

Despite every instinct telling him to jump up and shake the information out of Cirayus, Vir forced himself to wait patiently. Such behavior would be unbecoming… Especially in present company.

“They call themselves the Garga Lavani,” Cirayus began. “Some see them as craven misfits. Others call them a cult. The cult of the Akh Nara.”

Vir’s eyes widened. “How many are there? Are they organized?”

“That’s the thing, lad,” Cirayus said. “No one knows. I’ve been putting out feelers, trying to contact them, but they’re like a bonfire. When lit, they blaze so brightly, you can’t avoid them even if you tried. But when dormant, you could search the ends of the realm and never find a single one.”

“I’ve been searching as well,” Thaman said. “And I’ve met with the same results. Still, I’d say you’re better off without them.”

“Aye,” Cirayus agreed. “They’ve been nothing but a nuisance to the Akh Naras of the past. Following him around and worshiping him like a living god.”

Vir’s eyes met Ashani’s, and they both grimaced. That was an outcome neither wanted, but in Vir’s case, he’d happily take that sacrifice if it meant bolstering his army.

“You’re saying they might have someone who can inscribe the tattoos?” Vir asked.

“Possibly,” Thaman replied. “Though I sincerely doubt it.”

“So, we’re back where we started, then,” Vir said, shoulders sagging. He wasn’t quite sure how to take the revelation of the Garga Lavani. Ostensibly, they could be an asset, and at the very worst, a nuisance as Cirayus had said. Vir doubted they’d be an antagonistic force, so if they did still exist, they could present Vir with an opportunity to exploit.

Given that there seemed to be little he could do to contact them, however, Vir had little choice but to give them time to reach out to him.

“I can’t just sit around and bank my future on hopes and dreams,” Vir said. “If there are none who can inscribe the tattoo, then I’d like to have your—”

“There is one,” Cirayus said in a tone that made it look as though uttering the words caused him bodily injury. “There is but one being in all the realms who can.”

“Who?” Vir asked.

“No,” Thaman said. “Not him. Better to sell your soul to the Asuras than to engage in a bargain with that demon. Leave that blight to rot in the Ash.”

Vir had a suspicion he knew exactly who they were talking about.

“It’s Saunak, isn’t it?”

Merely uttering his name caused Thaman to recoil in disgust, and Cirayus’ reaction wasn’t much more muted, either.

“You know of him?” Thaman asked. “How?”

“We crossed paths in the Ashen Realm.”

Cirayus scoffed. “Bloody nut imprisoned the lad and nearly killed his wolf.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Vir began, but swiftly stopped. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Saunak. The demon was eccentric, to say the least. All of what Cirayus said was true. And yet, he’d gifted them an Automaton of the gods, as well as a manual on Thaumaturgy.

The manual had been largely useless, yet there was no denying that Vir left Saunak’s tower far better off than he’d been upon entering it.

“You can’t trust that madman, Cirayus,” Thaman was shouting. “Not with the Akh Nara! He’s your godson. What would Maion say?”

“I’m not arguing, Thaman. Just saying we should consider all the—”

“No. This is not an option. I refuse to—”

“Enough,” Vir said, silencing the Raja. “My apologies,” Vir immediately added, realizing his tone had been more aggressive than he’d intended. “This decision is mine to make, and I assure you, it will not be made in haste. I swear to give this the consideration it is due. For now, though, I believe I will defer inscribing Balancer of Scales. Thaman. May I take a copy of the inscription with me?”

Thaman said nothing for a long while, prompting Cirayus to clear his throat. “He’s right, Thaman. The decision is his to make. The art is his, by rights. You cannot take that away from him.”

Thaman ran a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. “Fine. But do not come crying to me when that lunatic permanently cripples the savior of our realm.”

Vir raised a brow, and he wasn’t the only one. Aida and Cirayus looked just as surprised.

“Are those the words of the Bairan Raja?” Cirayus asked. “Or the whelp I trained?”

Thaman seemed to realize the meaning of his words. “By Yuma, it’s been a long day,” he said, sounding utterly exhausted. “I’ve yet to rally the clan to the cause, but between us in this room, does it really need to be stated where I personally stand? This realm is broken. The way I see it, young Sarvaak here is our best hope of attaining the heights we’d once achieved. Before all of this clan squabbling and petty politics.”

“Aye, that’s the whelp I raised,” Cirayus said, beaming.

“Thank you, Thaman,” Vir said. “Your support means a great deal to me. And to the people of my clan.”

“Yes, well,” Thaman said. “You can use all the friends you can get, Champion. I fear even then, it may not be enough. What will you do now?”

“Now?” Vir said. “Now, I return to the Ash, where my troops await. There, we will train, and there, along with Cirayus, we will forge them into the finest fighting force this realm has ever seen.”

“Good plan,” Thaman said. “I would like to have my Warriors train alongside you at all times. We can arrange for supplies, though until I am able to rally Bairan support, I’m afraid anything I do will be limited to my personal means.”

“Not a problem,” Vir said. “And we can keep your troops supplied within the Ash. All I ask is for more Thaumaturges to join us, and for smithing equipment. Give me your best soldiers, and I promise I will return them a hundredfold stronger.”

“Your offer is tempting. Dangerously so,” Thaman said.

“No danger here, Thaman,” Vir said with a smile. “I hope to forge a bond of mutual benefit. For decades and centuries to come. As you just said—we need to get past political games and clan warfare. This is how it begins.”

Thaman grinned. “Brick by brick.”

“Stone by stone,” Vir completed.

The three of them chatted for the next several hours while Aida returned through Ashani’s Gate to fetch her things for the journey ahead. Ashani had never been to Vir’s demon camp, so they would have to take her Gate to the outskirts of the city, before walking to the Gate Vir had established near the Boundary. Once through—assuming they could get Aida to fit—it would be another trip to the camp.

At normal speeds, this would all take days, but Vir and Cirayus reduced that to a mere handful of hours. It was agreed that Aida would ride atop Cirayus’ shoulders, while Ashani would be held by Vir in his arms. She’d vehemently refused the indignity of riding on his shoulders, let alone being carried like a sack of potatoes.

“I’d hoped to meet with the Panav Rajni, but I suppose striking up relations with two Rajas is more than I could’ve hoped for.”

“Kira had to return to her clan on urgent matters, I’m afraid,” Thaman said. “She actually wanted to chat with you as well. Alas, she’s asked me to forward you an invitation to Vraj Parah.”

Vir nodded. “Please convey that I would be honored to—”

“You weren’t about to leave without me, were you?” Tara said, bursting through the door, looking like she was about to embark on a voyage of a hundred years. She carried on her back a rucksack easily as tall as her, and at least a half-dozen weapons were strapped to it on all sides. They jingled as she walked, upsetting her balance and nearly making her tip over.

Vir couldn’t even begin to guess how much it all weighed, and Tara had neither Balancer of Scales nor the innate might of the Bairans to ease her burden.

“Tara?” Thaman cried. “This is a private meeting! Besides, how did you—?”

“Ajji sent me,” Tara said, as if that answered everything.

To Vir’s surprise, Thaman’s look of surprise melted away into one of understanding.

“I see,” he said. “Cirayus, do you have room for one more?”

“I can carry a dozen people as far as I’m concerned. It’s up to the lass whether she’s okay with that.”

“I am,” Tara replied without hesitation.

“Um… Do I get a say in this?” Vir asked.

Tara grinned and pointed to Thaman. “He’s a Raja.” She moved her finger to Cirayus. “And he’s the Ravager.”

“And I’m the Akh Nara?” Vir said, feeling hot in the cheeks for having to say it out loud.

“Ahhh, yeah. That’s true. You are, aren’t you? ”

“Now, look here,” Vir began, allowing his irritation to seep into his voice. “You can’t just barge in and—”

Before he could finish, and against the expectations of likely everyone in the room, Tara dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Her backpack clanged in protest, but she paid it no mind.

“I am Tara of the Clan Panav, and I pledge myself to the Akh Nara’s cause. Allow me to join you in your noble mission. I… May not have much to offer, but allow me to help undo the wrongs my people have wrought upon this realm.”

“N-no, I… That’s…” Vir found his mouth opening and closing, but no words came.

Exasperated, Vir looked to Cirayus, who simply shrugged. Thaman’s awkward smile was of no help, either.

“Very well, then,” Vir said, shaking his head. “I’ll never refuse the company of anyone as capable as you, Tara. You offer a lot. A whole lot, in fact. And even if you didn’t, I consider you a friend. That ought to be reason enough alone. I hope you’ve prepared for hardship, though. We have quite an adventure ahead of us.”

Tara rose to her feet, grinning. “Bring it.”

“Then, Ashani? If you will.”

Ashani, who had discretely shifted to her demonic appearance the moment Tara entered the room, strode confidently up to Vir.

“Oh, yeah. Where’d you dig up that gem?” Tara asked, thumbing at Ashani.

Thaman’s eyes flew wide with fear and shock, while Vir and Ashani burst out laughing.

“Would you believe me if I said Mahādi?”

“Mah… The City of the Gods!? You’re pulling my leg, right?”

Tara turned to Thaman. “Right?”

The Raja groaned.

Vir followed a giggling Ashani, a confused Aida, and a sympathetic Cirayus through the newly formed Gate.

He turned when he was through, extending a hand to the Nagini.

“I told you we had an adventure in front of us. We’re about to make history, and the path will be paved with sweat and tears. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Tara grasped Vir’s arm and shot back a toothy grin, though Vir could tell it was just a facade from her shock and surprise.

“As I said. Bring it.”

END OF ARC EIGHT. END OF BOOK FOUR