The quiet of Bruce’s training hall was disrupted at irregular increments as Xenron and Ken’s blades clashed. In Ken, Xenron had a nigh unbeatable opponent to learn from. As Xenron saw it, it was Ken’s way of paying him back for the Bruce situation. Bruce had gotten off of Ken’s back because of Xenron’s word, and though Xenron didn’t mean to hold that over his training partner, he certainly wouldn’t turn away the excellent practice. He needed every advantage he could get.

“Ha!”

Xenron let out a sharp yell and braced his muscles as his sword met Ken’s, ringing out with a metallic screech. He created distance as he pressed back with a two handed grip, then let out a quick incantation and extended his hand.

As Xenron cast ‘Knock’ Ken staggered from an ethereal blow to the gut. Xenron pursued with a downward slash. Ken caught the blow on his shield. Of the two of them, Ken was the stronger - on that front, Xenron had no doubt. But if he pressed his advantage in places like this…

“Stop goofing around with that annoying door knocking spell!” Ken yelled.

Ken’s sword arm flashed, but Xenron had been preparing an incantation again. He released the Knock cast, striking Ken’s hand with sudden force and making him drop his sword. He kicked the surprised Ken in the side, and then brought down his sword once more. Ken defended with his shield, but in each exchange he was pressed back, pressed away, further and further. This was the way he could dissect the difference in physical strength. Xenron’s aura now amplified his physical strength so that he wasn’t too far off - and with Knock always disrupting Ken’s stance at just the right time, he couldn’t come back once he was on the back foot. As Ken was backed into a corner, his options continuously shrank, until finally his shield splintered under the force of Xenron’s Knock spell. This time, for once, Xenron would take the round off of him.

“How’s this, then!”

Xenron brought his sword down an angle. With his body-weight behind the blow and no defense, he could do it!

“Open - True Conjuration: Shield - close,” Ken monotoned.

In that moment, an azure light flared in Ken’s hands and he conjured a shield of pure mana. But he didn’t seek just to block. His hand moved as a blur and Xenron found himself airborn. His head swam with nausea. The next thing he felt was Ken’s blade, lightly pressing on his chest. The bastard had a shit-eating grin on his face, and Xenron groaned.

“How many wins is that for me now? Do I get any bonus points when I hit 100?”

“You’re supposed to hit me with the sword,” Xenron said, ignoring the gloating. “Magic will blunt it at the point of impact. Do they not tell class clowns?”

Ken’s shrugged, and he sheathed his sword. “I got the memo, but you really shouldn’t trust stuff like that. Say some noble didn’t like you and decided to screw with the safeties? Wouldn’t be very ‘safe’ anymore.”

Xenron acknowledged the point with silence, slowly sitting up as Ken joined him. He took the offered drink of water, then sighed.

“That strength of yours is unreal. How do you do it? You’d just conjured, so it couldn’t have been a strengthening spell.”

“Trade secret,” Ken said casually, and Xenron sighed but didn’t press the issue.

“You’re not going to argue?” Ken asked. “Didn’t realize I’d hit your head that hard.”

“You’re impossible,” Xenron groaned. “Of course I’d love to know. But- well, knowledge is power and all that. I’m not dumb enough to squeeze someone twice my strength for secrets.”

Xenron left it at that - respect motivated his hesitation with Ken more than fear, but to talk about respecting someone so annoying would make him vomit.

“Whatever,” Ken said, lounging back and playing around on his phone. “You’ve probably got a guess anyway. Why not take a shot? I’ll give you two guesses.”

Xenron almost asked ‘why two?’ but looking at Ken’s grin, he figured he’d get some wise-guy answer that would fully derail the conversation. Instead, failing to feign disinterest, Xenron threw out a guess.

“A prepared spell, perhaps? Maybe you’ve got runes on your clothing?”

“Nah. That’s cheating.”

Xenron agreed, so far as sparring went, but he was surprised to hear the same answer from Ken.

“Then… some kind of unique ability of yours?” Xenron asked.

“You can use your vocab words,” Ken poked. “Yeah, it’s a Distinction.”

Xenron’s eyes bulged with surprise. Having caught his breath, he rose, and Ken followed wordlessly. Rather than get into another pitched brawl, their blades met in a formulaic drill to build muscle memory as they conversed.

“I didn’t think they manifested by our age, most of the time,” Xenron said, a little awed.

“Oh, Distinctions show up whenever the hell they want. I’m sure a lot more of our peers know theirs than will normally let on.” Power rippled in bluish waves along Ken’s arm as he looked at it, clearly pleased with it. “If you want to keep up, I think your best bet is to figure out yours. Your own ‘unique ability’,” he said, mocking Xenron’s evasive word choice.

“As if it’s that easy,” Xenron scoffed. Distinction training was a mess, because every single person’s distinction worked differently. A regiment that might hone one person’s distinction to perfection might make another’s borderline unusable. Some distinctions required fine control; others demanded reckless abandon. Some required a particular mindset, while others could activate unconsciously. Some required almost no mana, but there were some recorded distinctions which would consume enough mana to kill the user three times over. It was a nice dream, but practically speaking, finding and mastering his distinction was the same for Xenron as pursuing a lottery win. “I’ve still got other avenues. I could match your strength, maybe, if I mastered Strengthening. I’ve been working on it - it’s just slow going.”

“Yeah, slow-going is right,” Ken said dismissively. “The spell’s handy, I guess, but it makes your body stiff. It’s hard to use with other spells, and even at the best of times it can overtax your muscles. Do you really want to dump all that time and energy to have a discount version of my power?”

“What the hell else can I do?!” Xenron said, swinging his sword harder suddenly and knocking Ken’s back. He expected his peer to look surprised or affronted, but Ken just smiled.

“Sucks to suck,” was Ken’s only response, and Xenron fumed, swinging at him more aggressively. His aura flared out visibly, blanketing his surroundings as his hand trembled on his sword’s guard. He lashed out with the sabre again and again, forcing Ken to match his aggressive pace. Tossing his sword to his offhand, Ken, suddenly struck back with a supernaturally fierce parry that hit Xenron’s gauntlet and left his hand numb. He dropped his sword and staggered backwards, his fury turning to impotent frustration as he struggled to even process what’d happened.

“Stockpiled power,” Ken said with a blank expression, then, leaving Xenron to stare at him. “I charge power in my muscles - each one individually. If I burn it up, it takes a while to come back, but I can just use another muscle group in the meantime. I used my left and right arm, so now I just have a couple of extra-hard kicks left to fight you with. If you were to come at me with full strength right now, it’d be pretty annoying for me to fight back.”

The open candor stunned Xenron speechless. Telling him the obvious traits of his Distinction would be one thing - for Ken to reveal all his weaknesses was trust to the point of folly for someone so evasive.

“It’s handy, sure,” Ken said, “but when you look for a distinction, you have to be looking for all of that. Your strengths. Your weaknesses. What’s weird about your training, and how can you make it work for you?” The boy sheathed his sword again, clearly done with sparring for the time - Xenron did the same. “I’m surprised your pops didn’t grill you on this stuff.”

Xenron decided to let the mention of his pops go - he knew better than to expect decorum from Ken. “He’s adamant that I find my own way, whatever that means. I guess that could be a hint towards what you’re talking about in and of itself.” Xenron wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly less conscious of how he appeared. “But - what if what’s unique to me is just… brokenness?” Remembering the revelation of his shattered memories, Xenron trembled.

“Hell if I know,” Ken said. “I have no idea what you’re sorting through - or if it’s worth it. Maybe you’re better off just going the bureaucrat route…”

“I can’t. I’ll get assassinated like King Alexander. No one will respect me.”

“What happened with him was a fluke,” Ken dismissed. “He was unusually weak, in the most tense political climate in history, and his personal guard was against him. Like I said… sucks to suck. If you just have good bodyguards and don’t ‘poke the bear’ on unpopular topics, you should be fine. If you don’t, there’s a lot of ways a strong mage can die if they’re taken off-guard.”

Xenron blinked. He hadn’t expected to be rebuffed on the point of Alexander, and suddenly found himself flipping through his history lessons for a counterpoint - if only to argue.

“W-Well, there’s still the matter of respect! Even if I’m not killed, I’ve got to be a good King.”

“So you’ll beat yourself to hell and back so people you’ve never seen like you and say nice things about you?” Ken mimed gagging. “Couldn’t be me.”

“Well then, why do you do it?!” Xenron said, getting more frustrated by the moment.

“Doesn’t matter to you,” Ken said.

“Would you have me give up everything I’ve worked for?!” Xenron said, his face close to Ken’s.

“And there it is,” Ken said, jabbing a finger at Xenron’s chest. “Sunk-cost fallacy. ‘I’ve come this far, so I need to get to the end.’ Even if it makes me miserable.”

“It’s what I need to do,” Xenron shot back, pushing Ken, “to survive! What right do you have to criticize me for that?!”

“Even if that’s true,” Ken challenged, keeping his footing but not pushing back. “living like that will make you miserable. I’ve been there. And there’s stuff I do to survive, but that doesn’t mean I live like a beggar. Forget need. Is there some reason you want to be strong?”

There was. Hunt a Demi Goliath. Swim in the ocean. Yes, Xenron did have reasons. Fun reasons. Personal reasons. He had to remind himself when he was at rock bottom, vomiting his guts out. After such an incredible breakthrough since that time, had he already gone sour again? He hadn’t realized how much his meeting with his father had troubled him.

“If you can afford not to walk the path of a mage,” Ken said, “then you probably shouldn’t bother with the rat-race. But if you’re someone who can’t do otherwise… who stubbornly can’t let go - well, I can’t tell you what to do then, either, right? Because it would be personal.”

“Like a distinction,” Xenron whispered.

“Like a distinction,” Ken agreed.

“Who are you?” Xenron asked.

“Huh?” Ken said, looking confused.

“Who are you, really? You act like a fool, but you’re not like anyone our age.”

“I’m the class clown that likes to fuck with Bruce, obviously,” Ken said, calling back his signature shit-eating grin. “Awful interested, huh? Didn’t know you were into me like that, bro.”

Xenron sighed. It couldn’t be helped - Ken had already divulged far more than Xenron was due. And given him quite a lot to think about. He could keep this secret.

“The class clown, then. Let’s go get a bite. I could eat a hornbeast.”

“Now we’re talking!” Ken said, throwing an arm around Xenron’s shoulder. “Your dime, right?”

“You’ll owe me another hour of training, then.”

“I’ll kick your ass any time,” Ken said merrily, humming as they walked. “Besides, you won’t be fighting until after you hibernate, since you haven’t eaten right the past couple of days.”

Xenron stopped. He knows about the Survival Gauntlet? Shutting away an angry response, Xenron finally said, “You sure are good at information gathering for a class clown.”

“Nah. You just suck at hiding things. Unlike me, of course. I’m great at keeping secrets,” Ken said, an ironic smile on his face. Remembering how easily he’d given up his Distinction, Xenron grinned. “

“I’ll be sure never to tell you who I like,” Xenron said. “Well, since you know, I’m looking forward to our rematch at my new peak.”

“I’ll knock you down as many times as you want, lover-boy,” Ken said. As they went and ate, Ken didn’t stop needling at Xenron, but he found the exercise worthwhile. Xenron felt he was starting to understand what made Ken tick. It was both cheering and disconcerting. If Ken was a reasonable person, that meant Xenron had to believe what he’d told him about Bruce - an accusation that was hard to accept.

Later that night, Xenron found himself going over the conversation over and over. He felt like there was something there - something important. Maybe he needed to press deeper into mentally taxing magical strain. Despite worrying about the possibility of losing himself, Xenron hadn’t stopped training. He couldn’t bring himself to, not after he was finally seeing progress. However, for the sake of not wearing himself down to nothing, he did decide to keep to the rules of the Survival Gauntlet and rest now. Instead of straining his mind, Xenron landed on a middle ground he didn’t usually make use of - openness.

As Xenron lay and focused on the sensations in his weary body, the start of his meditation, the Silent Dread mounted and pressed on him. That was… okay, he decided. It was close around his throat whenever he was in a fight. That didn’t make it any less uncomfortable as he lay there, but the Dread was no longer unfamiliar to him. Following conventional wisdom, he allowed and observed the discomfort.

Stolen novel; please report.

Several minutes passed this way, and Xenron, weary as he was, struggled to stay awake. But as he decided he was satisfied with the brief meditation and let himself drift, something strange happened. Out from the Silent Dread, the cloud of confused memories that bound Xenron’s memories, came an unfamiliar mana. The power felt powerful and strange as flowed, seemingly from within Xenron. All at once, he saw an ethereal face with closed eyes. It was formless and stern, but not unkind, and spoke without prompting.

“You Who Sleep - finally, you have opened your soul.”

Xenron instinctively started to withdraw from the strange encounter.

“Wait! Please, my lord. There is something your mother would want me to convey to you.”

“What do you know of my mother?” Xenron said, reaching out. Though he could not see in more than vague impressions, he felt himself gain form and gasp the other creature. “She’s not… well. She hasn’t woken in years.”

“She was not always so,” the voice replied. “I do not know what happened to her between now and then. So little is left of me. But that matters not. I have a message for you - you must receive it.”

The man reached out, then, and touched Xenron’s forehead. He felt the strange mana inside him unravel, like sticks bursting to flame inside of him, as much warmth as pain. Xenron resisted the urge to draw back, his curiosity stronger than his fear. Memory poured into his mind in a flood of elation and anxiety, time dilating and expanding impossibly as he overflowed with the information. A red light. A… girl? Ariel… Ariel! He knew her, then. He had always known. How had he forgotten?!

Xenron sat bolt upright in his bed, remembering. The tangle of his memories went far deeper, he knew, but Xenron was thrilled at the strand come free. He had no idea what had become of the consciousness that shared this experience with him. He set aside the possibility that it was a malicious spirit - if it was, he’d been had, because this was too exciting a revelation to leave behind. He was grateful. And more than that, he was angry. Somehow, he’d forgotten a person who’d been kind to him - magic or not, he didn’t like it one bit.

And I will make that right.

That didn’t stop at just Ariel. The strange something that had reached out to him - whatever it was - had waited a long time to deliver its message. He tried to reach out with his mind towards it, but lost focus before getting anywhere on several attempts. Xenron groaned with frustration. He’d lost his concentration with the shock of the new memories.

He closed his eyes and after many long minutes, he started to feel himself… flow? He was in a state that was lucid, yet dreamy and strange - and he could feel himself drift. He wondered if he was just walking and deluding himself, but as he continued on for minutes on end, he knew distantly that his body was just where he’d left it. The idea came as a thrill - but unfortunately, the space was remarkably empty around him, an endlessly dark void. Whatever had just imparted the memories to him was no longer accessible - properly thanking it, then, would have to be a to-do list item.

Then, despite his reluctance, Xenron forced himself to open his eyes once again. He recalled well how quickly dreams slipped away if not written down - he was loathe to break his trance state again, but he thought the far greater risk was to encounter another bout of amnesia and forget all of this. Once he’d made detailed notes both in hard copies and on his phone, he had inescapable evidence of Ariel, the dreamstate, and the Messenger as he decided he’d refer to it. That done, after drinking some water, Xenron dropped into uncomfortable meditation for the third time that night.

Given his experience so far, Xenron had realized that his best bet was to move around the edge of the Silent Dread. It was harmful to think too much about it, but it was worse to meditate so passively that he found himself accidentally in the midst of shattered memories. He thought idly, with immediate dislike, that perhaps he was supposed to be parsing the memories directly. Remembering the strain of touching even the edge of them, he recoiled violently from the idea, and took several minutes to calm himself. He inhaled, he exhaled - and he did his best to be present only for that - for the rising and falling of his slightly sore midsection, focusing on his diaphragm. Eventually, in that space, where Dread pressed upon but did not consume him, clarity returned, and it was just as thrilling as it’d been previously. It seemed even easier to enter that state this time. Not leaving anything to chance, though, Xenron focused on the person he knew only by memory - the person he wanted to check in on. Ariel.

While the process felt new, Xenron’s memories knew what to do. Focusing on the image of a vibrant crimson gleam like a distant star, he found that impossibly distant point. When he started to move, he thought it must be what flying felt like, and he let out a wordless cry of elation. Neither tracking nor ‘flying’ were hard in his current state. What was hard was remaining in control. He kept finding himself losing his sense of self - thinking of himself as a passive observer or simply not thinking of himself at all. It was a delicate balance, because Xenron had the impression that that disconnection from the self was what allowed him to drift freely in the first place. Keeping his focus, Xenron soared towards the distant light. Her soul, he thought. He didn’t have any reason to be sure - it was just an impression. In this moment, though, he wanted to trust. He wanted to trust the spirit. He wanted to trust Ariel. He wanted to trust himself, to sort out everything. And so he soared on with indescribable colors rushing by at incredible speed in a display abstract artists would envy.

And then, abruptly, he was at her side. The memory of what he was doing earlier grew a little hazy, though he could still call it into contrast. Conversely, the scene in front of him was familiar and vibrant. Amidst a colorful array of townsfolk glittering like stars in the void, in the center of his vision was the red flare he identified as Ariel. A light green blaze offset the red in places along with smaller bits of other colors, the colorful mix telling him she was in a somewhat thoughtful mood. The smoothness with which he could now call on that knowledge was startling.

Still, as Xenron settled into this new state of being, his previous anxieties returned. If he made himself known to her - announced that he was the heir to the Xexen Empire - what would that accomplish? She would want much from someone powerful like that - want her brother returned to her safely, want her town protected, want the Black Hand dealt with once and for all. As it was, even understanding himself was far beyond Xenron - let alone solving all those problems. Reluctantly, he sank back into his old persona. The easygoing Tronen kid, Terrence.

Waiting until she was sufficiently far away from other souls, Terrence made himself known to Ariel in the proper way.

“Boo!” Terrence called out.

Ariel didn’t even flinch. Sighing, Terrence fell into step - which was more of just willing himself along - alongside the vibrantly pulsing phantom.

“That’s all you got?” she asked him. “You’re slacking, spook.”

“Don’t talk to me about working hard. I’m still sore from training,”

“You’re a ghost. You can’t be sore!” Ariel objected.

“Not with that attitude,” Terrence deadpanned. “So, where are we?”

“Edge of town.” Ariel replied. “Hey, don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” Terrence replied.

“You stopped. I know you’re giving me a look.”

“I’m not even strictly sure where you are,” Terrence replied. “How do you know where I am?”

“I can just tell. And as for what you’re thinking, you’re wrong.” Ariel said stubbornly.

“So you’re not trying to run off?”

“I did that once, and Darius literally knocked it out of me.”

“Are you alright? He’s supposed to be quite strong,” Terrence said.

“Well, he cheated anyway, but it’s fine. His daughter has been nice. It’s not like I can leave anyway, with how things are going with the Black Hand.”

“It is worrying,” Terrence agreed. “So, what are you doing?”

“I had to clear my head. Dave’s been training me for a while now, and I keep trying to cast this ‘Magnetic Resonance’ spell, but I’m not getting anywhere. I can’t even visualize it.”

Terrence nodded sagely, experimentally lifting himself a bit off the ground to peer at the house Ariel had pointed out to him once. He could only see it as a set of outlines - the veins of the runic warding scheme laced around the structure that should be there. This added to the disorientation of knowing he was in the air, but feeling nothing.

“He didn’t give you the formula, right?” Terrence asked. “Some people never learn to cast without following one. And Magnetic Resonance is a tricky spell, as I understand it.”

“Yeah, so-”

“You’ll probably figure it out by tomorrow.”

Ariel stared at him, the soul flickering different colors before flaring up.

“You’re being weird again, Terrence.”

“What? I just said what I thought,” Terrence said, dejected.

They strolled side by side for a while, Ariel getting more distant from the other souls. As they moved, Terrence could see the small lights of others flickering in the distance, but the color didn’t resolve well from here.

“Hey Ariel,” Terrence said timidly, “where are we going?”

“Don’t start guessing again. It just looks weird for me to talk to the air in town.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. D-don’t let me derail your day.”

“Easy, spook,” she said with a grin. Terrence couldn’t see it, so much as feel it. And, perhaps, there was a yellowish lightness to the soul. “If you’re so sure of me, you’re going to help me figure out this damn spell.”

“Okay!” Terrence said, getting excited. “What am I supposed to do? Float around some targets for you? Should I give you ancient knowledge of the spirits? Or float over to you and give you spirit powers?”

“No, no, hell no. Can you even do any of that?”

“Only one way to find out…”

As it turned out, Terrence didn’t have any weird spirit powers to assist with target practice or visualization. He knew if he made contact with Ariel, she would get that weird chilling sensation he’d given her in the woods when they met, but he didn’t know specifically what his form was doing. He hadn’t dared to test the interaction on innocent townsfolk, despite a stroke of mischievous curiosity. And Ariel had remained firm in her opposition to any testing, which made enough sense. The moment they overlapped had felt close, unusually so.

Putting the thought from his mind, Terrence turned back to training. Ariel had to take his word for it that he was meditating alongside her, but her silent focus seemed to indicate that she either knew by uncanny intuition, or just trusted him. After they focused for a few minutes, Ariel sighed and stood up. She was going to go back to trying to manipulate the metal cube in her hand, and Terrence would work on his own aura and encourage her in the meanwhile. But first, a question occurred to him.

“Ariel, how much do you know about electrons?”

“They, uhh… they’re negative, right? And protons are positive?”

“And where are they located?”

Ariel considered for a long while, but shook her head. The meditation seemed to have left her serious, and a little gloomy.

“Well, they kind of orbit the atom,” Terrence started. In sets of ever further, more removed orbitals the larger the atom. But they kind of exist in a cloud - not like one place, but a whole space at once. The orbitals start at ‘1s’, and…”

Ariel’s flame had gone a sickly purple. Terrance didn’t quite know how to interpret that, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t a good thing.

“So you’re good at all that sciencey stuff. Must be nice…” Ariel griped.

“S-sorry, I really wasn’t trying to show off.”

“Quit apologizing, man. You’re good at something. Own that shit.”Ariel sighed, sitting back. “For years, I didn’t know what I was good for. Then, I learned magic. I used to think I was good, and I acted like I was queen of the world. Right up until Isaac was snatched up from under me.”

“Then follow your own damn advice,” Terrence said, surprising himself with the anger in his voice. “So you failed? That just means you have to do better. Don’t adjust your expectations down. Adjust yourself up.” Feeling very foolish as Ariel’s soul swirled, trying to figure out to react to him, Terrance continued. “I didn’t explain electrons well, so don’t bother with the specifics. But if there’s one thing to think about, they’re impossible to pin down. Try to figure out where one is? The very act of checking changes it. Think they’ll stay on the atom where they started? Nope, a chemical reaction happened and now they’re attached to another atom, or absorbed a stray photon of light and they’re off in space. They’re impossible to pin down. So if I had to guess… no half measure’s going to control them well enough to morph metal.”

Ariel stood waiting for a second, then gave a ‘hmm’. But before she could consider or even make another attempt, an ear-splitting sound rushed their way. In his spiritual form, Terrance felt the dread behind it. They were distant from town now - but the spirits Terrance had seen earlier emanated a sickly, deep violet light.

“What’s happening? I can’t see well enough-” Terrance asked.

“Someone screamed. Which way?” Ariel called, moving quickly.

Terrence stopped short, considering. “We’ll need to check in with the town guard either way.”

“Fuck that. We’re a ways out of town.”

Terrence could tell from her movement that Ariel was turning frantically, unable to clearly pin down the direction of the sound. Damn it, this is a terrible idea…

“7 o'clock, and a hair past. Probably a quarter mile. There are several people that way.”

“Thanks,” Ariel said, a with note of surprise and respect. She set off at a dash, and Terrence followed, swearing to himself.

***

Ariel dashed between trees, teeth gritted. She scaled plants, swung from branches, dashing, dashing, dashing. Lightning surged through her nerves, her muscles. Faster, she thought. In well under a minute she was there. A two level farm house - burning. The whole top level was ablaze. Two windows - thick metal frames, no way in. The door? Locked.

She kicked against it with all her strength, but the door didn’t budge.

“Not normal wood,” she muttered under her breath. “Runically warded.”

“The knob?” Terrence asked, his voice thin.

“Locked.”

“You have to push it out!” he said. “If it’s just the single lock, it’ll open.”

“But…” Ariel started to protest. Then the scream came again. A boy’s scream. A child. This reeked of some kind of attack. Then, at the worst moment, Ariel’s body shook with the remembered fear of her confrontation with the Black Hand. Not now!

If she burned up her mana failing to get through the door, she would be helpless in the fight. She’d barely gotten out last time. If they saw her coming…

She eyed the roof. It was burning, but she might be able to get in somewhere. If she collapsed it. What if there people inside, and the burning rubble crushed them? How could she be sure?

You’re stalling, damn it!

A voice came to her, from nearby.

“Get to safety. We don’t know who’s in there,” Terrance said. “I’ll try to lead the residents out.”

And just like that, the space was silent, but for the sound of flames.

***

Terrence rushed into the burning house, against his better judgment. It would have been simple if he had his body here - without it, he couldn’t cast any spells. He wasn’t sure if he could be harmed in this form, but this wasn’t how he’d hoped to find out. Still, with the ability to touch lives beyond the castle - maybe, he could do something of worth.

Floating up towards the souls, he called out to one of them, colors churning with frantic, fervent emotion.

“Hey! I don’t know the layout of this place, but you need to get out. I think the front door isn’t far.”

The figure turned towards him, bewilderment clear, but called out without hesitation.

“My daughter is past here,” came a woman’s voice. “I can’t control the flames - my fire magic isn’t good enough to snuff it out!”

“A-alright, that’s pretty bad. Sorry. Not helping. I’ll try to get to her.”

“Second room on the right!” The voice called. Terrence couldn’t see rooms, but there was only one soul to his right, and two to his left. Father and first child, then? He thought he saw something else, but waved it off as a random pulse of radiant mana from the mother. When Ariel trained, his vision traced it - so his colorful soul-sight seemed to track spells, runes, and souls. Floating straight for the soul he thought was the daughter, Terrence called out as he drew near. Fortunately, walls and fire were no barrier to him.

“Your mom’s looking for you! I’m not sure what the room looks like on your side, but you need to get out there no matter what! Follow my voice.”

The voice that responded to him was not that of a child. It was that of a man, confused and frustrated.

“What the fuck?! Citrine didn’t say there’d be backup, let alone spirits.”

Terrence staggered back. How did he detect me?! Or hide himself? As he focused on the source of the voice, a fierce soul came into focus - a sharp violet, solid like stone against the immaterial colors of his soul perception. The body then squared its shoulders and chuckled.

“Now that I feel, you’re not very powerful, are you? Not sure what kind of spirit you are, but you’re no Eidolon, so it doesn’t matter. Go ahead and die again, petty ghost.”

Then, mana exploded out, and tendrils of power started to ensnare Terrence. He could swear, in that flickering form, he saw gleaming eyes staring back at him. For the first time, Terrence knew terror.