I had time as I tumbled through the air, briefly blinded and deafened, to ruminate on the feeling of it. I knew what it felt like when I was being burned by my own magic; Heat Adaptation protected me from the worst of it, but there were definitely some concentrations that were too much for passive protection to handle. This felt different somehow, like it wasn’t just fire. It didn’t move like fire, attack like fire. Instead it was like a wall of pressure, conforming to my body and pressing everywhere, all at once. More than that, there was a difference to it, almost like the barest hint of presence to the starlight, some kind of mystery at the edges that pressed intelligently against my defenses, as if seeking a path through them and concentrating on any breach. It hurt in a way that wasn’t quite physical, as if it was attacking the very edges of my self , cutting and digging into the flesh of my being. I felt how it differed from pure heat, much more agile and focused. Concentrating on it, I could almost feel a guiding will behind it, striking and exploiting gaps in my defenses. The energy that clung to it was bright and cold, and grasping it with my intent felt like clutching a piece of stellar ice, so cold it ached the strings of my soul. I dug fingers of intent into it, peeling apart the energy, fighting with the embedded will until I felt something give and begin to tear away. [Flameheart’s Hunger] triggered, and bathed me in a sudden release of energy. I tore apart the starlight that was attacking me, grabbing onto that energy and filling my hands with it, concentrating it down until it solidified into a beam of stolen intent.

I slammed the blade of energy downward and it arrested my momentum abruptly, my soaring tumble through the air ended with a massive impact as I anchored myself in place. I opened my eyes, blinking against the pillar of agonizing white that still clung to my vision, and realized that the pillar had been replaced by a blade of icy white, nearly as tall as I was, and with a curve so smooth and perfect to the blade that I almost felt the image of it could cut the unwary.

The Stag was still mid-stumble back from the explosion, its’ body shaking violently as it attempted to remain coherent, unstable at the edges and crisscrossed with something that almost looked like solar flares, turbulent energy spilling out only to be clumsily reclaimed, spilling heat and light out into the world.

The explosion had hurled me back sixty or seventy feet, and forcefully enough that I was unsure how exactly I’d had so much time to ruminate on the feeling of the energy. I fought against that momentary distraction, and thrust the sword of light out before me, a phantom of the blade launching forth to slam into the reeling Stag, bursting into flames where it struck. I lunged forward and cut across, the phantom launching forth at the apex of the cut to lay open its’ flank in another burning arc.

Even though the energy had separated from me, I still felt it somehow, as if it carried within it an ember of my own energy. Even in the flames that stubbornly clung to the monster’s side, I could still feel a weak connection as if the fires were an extension of my own sense of self. Three more rapid strikes littered its hide with burning marks, and I felt its energy shift as it began to split apart, motes of light trickling outward to form the cores of the stags and does which prepared to flee from the burning body.

Angered by their defiance, I extended my hand as if I could grab the flames from sixty feet away, mildly shocked when the flames answered. I closed my hand into a fist and the energy condensed, drawing together into a bead of destructive force that collapsed and exploded only an instant later as the body of the Stag began to split.

A dozen phantom images were destroyed at once, their energy crackling and falling apart under the onslaught of power and intention. The others attempted to flee, only to be assaulted by my allies with a withering hail of lightning and steel, the does vanishing one by one as they were struck, even as the stags began to rally together to reform the greater whole. Unfortunately for them, we were prepared for the attempt, and a concentrated surge of attacks broke them up again and again as they failed to reach a critical mass, finally dissolving into incoherent motes of light.

The starlight sword flickered and dissolved as the stolen energy was expended, its’ source extinguished. I shuddered for a moment as I felt the stag die, the last vestiges of its’ essence pouring out from the iron grip my Intent had fastened around it, and the starlight lost something of itself, as if cut off from the heavens themselves. I felt like there was something hidden in that sensation, some kind of insight or wisdom locked away in the cold clarity of starlight.

Just as the revelation seemed about to form, something within me fought against it, and I reflexively activated [Flameheart’s Hunger] yet again, consuming that fighting Intent within my mind. The cold and distant feel of the starlight energy was subsumed into a torrent of flame, the cold of space replaced with the fire of a star. I felt like there was something fundamental in the energy, the more and more complex and entwined concepts breaking down as if burning away, focusing down to its’ most basic essences. One of them called out to me, and I reached out with my mind toward the flash of insight, feeling it sizzle and churn within my grasp.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in the center of a small ring of burnt grass, and my body ached. My eyes felt dry, littered with jagged afterimages of bright light and crackling fire. A sense of meaning imbued the raging storm of fire that wrapped around me, sinking into my body with a heat that burned away ignorance and replaced it with knowledge. I could sense the imprint I left on the energy I controlled; how once separated from me, that intention began to wither away and be consumed by the primal energies. I sensed the lingering traces of the Stag’s presence in the beams of starlight that had rained down from above, the sense of reverence that roiled within it, a taste of depth and profundity. I could even feel the traces of Dima in the ionized air, the bitter taste of ozone that somehow held an impression of the stern and focused man.

It was as if a sixth sense had opened up, and my recent memories were awash in new insights, painting them with new colors and sensations. I was distracted from this finally by the pressure of a notification and the sense of newness radiating from it, something unfamiliar in its’ content.

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[Essence of Flame I: Ember reached.]

You have come to grasp the basics of the Essence of Flame, forming your first Seed of Enlightenment.

Reward: +5 to Wisdom, +5% to the effect of Wisdom.

I stared in confusion at the notification for a few lingering seconds before a sense of new knowledge trickled into me. Sure, I’d been using fire before, and my intent had shaped it, but I’d never really imbued myself into the flames. They were more concentrated than normal just because of the sheer energy dumped into them, not because of some inherent spirituality. When I summoned a firebolt in my hand, it felt different; as if I could feel an echo of myself within, a meager spark of intelligence that condensed the firebolt down into something half the size but somehow many times the heat. The concentrated energy pressed against my hand without burning, even as I infused more and more energy into it. I felt it stabilize right about the point it would normally dissolve, a dense orb of flame that slowly spun in place in my hand, shedding warmth and light without pain.

When I released it, however, it shot forward like a bullet and slammed into the bole of a tree, cracking it in half and incinerating the upper half in an instant. The stump smoldered fitfully, sap crackling from the flames.

I could see the others in various states of recovery, Dima and Alex fussing over his beard; it seemed shorter than it had been, and the burnt ends were still smoking slightly. Ella and Cenna were talking, seemingly discussing the fight itself.

I slowly sat down in place, closing my eyes to browse over the other notifications that awaited me. I had gained a few more levels, putting me at 35 altogether. I ruminated for an instant over where to spend my points, and then dumped them all into Willpower, feeling that more strength of will would help me exercise better control over my attacks. I looked at the condensed version of my sheet, grinning at how high my attributes had grown.

Name: David Miller

Path: Arcane Power

Race: Firetouched Human (E) (3 Pres, 3 Will, 4 Free)

Class: Flameheart Sorcerer (5 Will, 5 Wis, 5 Free)

Profession: Forgeflame Blacksmith (4 Str, 3 Pres, 3 Int)

Level: 35 ( )

STRENGTH : 82 (+10%)

DEXTERITY : 44 (+10%)

FORTITUDE : 50 (+10%)

VITALITY : 57 (+10%)

CUNNING : 42 (+10%)

PRESENCE : 117+20 (+10%)

WISDOM : 214+15 (+15%)

INTELLIGENCE : 96+15 (+10%)

WILLPOWER : 261+45 (+20%)

With the percentage boost, my Willpower was effectively over three hundred points. It amazed me how far I had come, my attributes ramping up what felt like exponentially from my very human beginnings. I could see that my attributes were becoming – or were already well into being – lopsided, with almost everything I had going into my ‘mental’ attributes. I couldn’t quite fault it, however. After all, when I could reinforce my toughness by creating armor made from magic, why did I need fortitude? I didn’t intend to fight in melee any more than I absolutely had to, even if many creatures seemed to prefer getting up close and personal. Just because they wanted to didn’t mean I had to give it to them.

I stood up slowly, and glanced around at the others, cracking my neck and rolling my shoulders. “Alright! Shall we see what’s next?”

The others nodded, some more reluctantly than others, though only Ella looked actually excited about the prospect of going deeper into the tower. “Hell yeah,” she called back. “Let’s go!”

As we walked toward the door, my new awareness drew my eyes downward. Everything around us, from the dirt and grass to the trees and plants held shreds of a presence I couldn’t quite identify, though I suspected it was the Greenwarden. It somehow felt more profound , a deeper insight that eluded my grasp no matter how I contemplated it, elements within it that I couldn’t yet hope to identify.