Isobel’s eye twitched when Leland mumbled out a platter of identical words, each resulting in an equally identical snap of the fingers. Both the word “Fracture,” and the snap were, in her eyes, inartistic and frankly shameful. Every powerful mage she knew did not speak their spells, nor did they make gestures in the wind.

As she and Sybil watched the boy rush across the clearing, lightning following his toes, Isobel truly wondered about his “spells.” Discarding the absurdity that was divine “contracts,” the rest of his spells circled around breaking the opponent down until their soul was removed. While Legacy abilities usually had some sort of glue tying them together, she had never seen such a mishmash.

Breaking bones. Lord of Bones. Summoning crows. Lord of Crows. Slowing the enemy’s heart. Lord of, well it could be several. And lastly, tearing out souls. Lord of Souls.

What Lord had the agency over those specific aspects? If Leland was using various types of bone attacks from different Lords, then Isobel could understand. Many, say, Legacies of Fire used spells from the Lord of Lava or Lord of Heat. There was a cohesive theme, however, an easy to decipher theme.

Leland, on the other hand? Was too unique. Too specialized with too thin of links. His spells didn’t all slow, they didn’t all create crows, nor all break bones. They just… bothered the enemy until their souls were removed.

Isobel closed her eyes and shook her head. She had just watched Leland summon his crows, using them to simply dive bomb the monster. Nuance was a bygone thought to the boy, the crows had so many more uses that just “attack.”

Peeking through her eyelids, Isobel looked at Sybil. The Princess had her hands tightly clasped to her chest to the point they were paling despite her dark skin. A tremble rippled through her knees every time Leland was attacked and a resolute smile eclipsed her face every time he attacked back.

Isobel didn’t know what to think of that if she was being honest. Sometimes the girl looked as if she wished to join the battle, other times she looked like a frightened kitten. The former she chalked up to teenage angst, the latter due to Sybil’s lack of Legacy. Or Lord? Or whatever the Boneforged Monarch was going to give her.

If only there was some way to speak to the Lord in question… Isobel thought, thinking of the night prior where Leland tried to use his contract spell with the Boneforged Monarch.

It didn’t work, a fault he explained by way of nonexistent feedback. Isobel had to hand it to the kid, it was a good idea. At least partially. If he was able to contact the Lord and only received bad news, then well, then it would have been a horrible idea and Sybil’s potential death would forever weigh on his mind.

Luckily, now if she died, he’d only have his lack of power to blame. Which, with Isobel a firsthand example , was a great motivator to actually gain said power. If the loss didn’t break him, that was.

Leland did something stupid across the clearing and Isobel let out a guttural sigh. Being cynical had its advantages, but sometimes it didn’t. Now, watching the boy recover his footing, Isobel knew deep within her heart, this adventure wasn’t going to end well if she continued with the path of cynicism.

Leland was cynical enough, and, as the only adult of the group, Isobel felt the responsibility to not be.

The battle with the poisonous swarm of winged elk ended with Leland breathing heavily, six souls of the Damned kneeling around him in an arc.

Isobel let out a slow clap. “Congratulations, you have defeated the toughest enemy yet, a few deer.”

Leland glared at her. “They could fly! And spit poison!”

“So? You could fly too if you actually thought through things. You could probably spit poison as well. Contracts are just too versatile.”

Isobel watched the boy’s victory deflate out of his body, returning him to his usual state of rushed gloom. She internally grit her teeth, knowing it was her statement that did such a thing. That was not her intention, although it would have been a few weeks ago. She had to admit, she was bad at this whole mentoring thing.

The battle should have been simple. In her mind at least, if she had Leland’s Legacy and her own chance at these coveted contracts. Everything would be simple. She’d have contracts for everything, and the promise of properly tailored skirmishes in line with the enemy’s weakness. Flying deer? She’d fly right there with them. Poison spit? A contract for poison resistance would be used quite often. Poison was everywhere.

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But, then again, hindsight is always clear. As is having decades of high-end combat experience. Leland had only been doing this for what? Eight months?

At least he had a healing contract. If he didn’t, Isobel would consider him useless and not mentor him on principle.

“Kid, I— You fought well. The deer were by far your hardest challenge to date, and well, there were places for improvement. But you already knew that.”

Leland glanced at her. His eyes, still burning with purple flames, were dull and tired. How many battles had it been? Twenty three? Or was it twenty four? Regardless, it had been days of traveling through the Archon Valley toward the storm. Days filled with rather consistent solo battles. Mages were not supposed to fight solo, not if they wished to live long lives.

But he had won, and won again. Each battle was better than the last, even, despite the repetition clambering on his concentration. Luckily, for mages, concentration was something they excelled at.

“Yes,” he finally responded.

“Like silent casting and gesture-less casting… among other things.”

That was not what Leland was expecting if his now straightened posture had anything to say about it. Isobel had been with the kid long enough to know when he had an idea, and this was one of them. She waited a moment, letting him finalize his thoughts.

“I need to learn invisible casting.”

Isobel quirked an eyebrow. Did his spells need to be invisible? She guessed invisible crows would be nice, but making summons invisible was something even tenured Magi had troubles with. And removing the showmanship of the soul circle would be a detriment in her eyes. Some spells had a certain extra umph if they looked scary. And the purple flames and souls crawling from the ground did just that.

“Why—”

“For my halo,” Leland interrupted, anticipating the question. “That way I can use it around people who may know about Harbingers without worry.”

That was… actually a good idea. Isobel wasn’t surprised, however. Most of the kid’s ideas were good, albeit not necessarily practical. Invisible casting was difficult, yes, but not so much for stationary visual effects, like the halo or say the radiant glow of a conjured suit of armor.

“You know how to practice the cantrip?” she asked.

Leland shook his head. “It’s not so much a cantrip, but rather a way of casting. Similar idea, completely different in practice.” He hesitated a moment. “But I have something else I want to work on first.”

“And that is?”

“A cantrip called Memory Recall. It pretty much does as the name suggests, and lets me relive memories like they just happened.”

It was Sybil who spoke next, her breath hitched from the jog over. “What do you need to recall?”

“What the Archon said to me.”

Isobel eyed the boy emphatically. Was that really the best use of his time? Eh, she didn’t know. Not really. She was walking just as blind as he was, and well, Leland did have good ideas. The question now went to why? The Archon spoke a language none of them knew, let alone could identify. She wouldn’t be surprised if the Lord-like being spoke a language long forgotten… or perhaps not even learned in the first place.

Leland continued, “I figured if I could contract a Lord for the ability to learn, understand, or even translate languages, then with Memory Recall I could learn what it told me.”

And there it was, not practical. Isobel held off rolling her eyes. But, whatever. It was his time he was wasting. Not like casting an invisible halo would be good to have or anything…

“Would you tell me what it said?” Sybil asked. “Once you find out, of course. I’d like to know as well.”

“Sure,” Leland replied.

A foolish answer, Isobel thought. Some knowledge was better left secret, and she suspected whatever the Archon told the boy would categorically fall within such a classification.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” she said, pulling the children along before asking, “Any rank-ups?”

Silently Leland’s grimoire rotated around him into his view. He slowly flipped through the pages, reading them just as lamely.

Isobel hummed at the sight, idly annoyed at the boy’s Legacy. A tattoo of a crow but materialized as a simple tome? She had to admit, the tome was quite… foreboding. Dark, leather bound, thick with enough ancient rivets and metal trim to become a monastery’s prized treasure. It sure beat the legacy of the Hunter - a tattoo of a bow and animal trap with a materialization of a skinning knife.

Gah, how difficult it was to see if one of her abilities ranked up. The flat of the knife was simply too small to read the changes.

“Fracture is at fifteen, crows are at fourteen, slow is at thirteen, halo at fifteen and Circle of Souls at fourteen,” Leland said casually, like that information wasn’t often need to know.

But then again, Isobel did need to know and she did ask. Still, just announcing it all in front of the niece of the woman who sought to kill him nearly a week ago? The boy was dumb and too trusting.

She sighed, “Early ranks are always easiest. But it's always nice when an ability gets to the halfway mark between Legacy ranks.”

“That it does,” Leland said, smirking at the page of his book.