Tyr expected pain. That much was obvious, it was a condensed lance of mana hurtling into his body, and should've torn him apart. But all he felt was a stillness in the air. His perception hadn't sped up, rather everything around him had slowed down, and the finger of carmine light was slowly forcing its way into his core. Not so much as warming his skin by a single degree, but cradling him as a hearth might the cold man returned from the hunt to rest his feet. Knowing that no matter who returned it or how it was accelerated, this energy was his and so it could not harm him. Even though his own fire burned him until he was screaming in pain, it was purified through that contact with the alfen. Stripped of his weakness.

Perfected. Refined.

Her ability wasn't so simple as a counter, in observation. It was a measurement, not a reflection. Her 'gate', that conduit for cosmic energy that lay in her eye would take it all in and expel it outward through whatever immaterial space existed at the core of her. But while it could strip the human weakness from the ability and thereby make it stronger, all it did was grace him with a revelation on the very concept of energy.

It's purpose.

Something he'd expect from visiting the plane of fire responsible for all life. A 'eureka' of sorts, and like a charge from battery to battery – he was overflowing with titanic might. Right now, he knew he wasn't as strong as when he'd fallen through dimensions and back into the world, but he was here. He was real and this fire could not harm him. No fire could, because at his core was the seed of suns incarnate, the father and origin of all things that billowed and burned. His wick was lit, burning him of impurities in a process of active awakening until he couldn't count the amount of times his spirit was refined.

Eve stared back at him. All those below could feel it, but only she could truly see. His eyes became pin points of blue light. That red of his flames stepping up to the next grade of heat, releasing azure radiance of such might that they became as wings about his face. She had devoured his magic and he had done the same, absorbing the origin flame and seeing it for what it was. As she had. But unlike Eve herself, Tyr was truly capable of making use of it.

Freezing there in the sky, no longer falling – momentum arrested by a gravitational force with no need of mass or catalyst.

He raised his hand, stretching up in the sky as if to grasp the sun. The clouds began to twirl, great Sol seemed to strengthen in intensity, splitting the air with a thunderous boom enough to shake the earth below. When he whispered to them, those eyes that peered down at him through those clouds, he felt it. So close. So very close, a scant millimeter away from transcendence, an enlightenment. A trial by fire, quite literally, and it screamed at him to let it in. It was hungry, it needed to feed and be set loose on the world below. An imperfect world, and as his energy had been shaped and perfected by Eve's gate, he wanted to do the same to all things below him. Everything.

BURN.

The world's song pounded into him, the Choir coming with unbridled clarity, pouring all of it's might into his body until he felt like the emperor of all. More and more, even the primus' would have difficulty standing against him now! Radiant, smiling, eyes creased into crescent moons, red tears falling of such heat that the blood boiled and scarred his face. But these were no scars, no injury, but a kiss to mark him as the chosen. It was so close! Almost there! And the eyes were watching him, judging him, urging him on. They weren't his enemies after all, but old friends who wanted him to succeed when the gods had doomed him to suffer and fail!

“Dawn--” Eve's eyes were all he saw, her own primal fire was snuffed out, pupils dilating in instinctual terror. Energy rebelled against the natural way, all of it swarming around him to add to this reaction at his fingertips. The air stilled, everything around him feeling the pressure of a single, titanic hand. Fortunately, if anything, she was fast. Close enough to dash through the air and grab hold of his bodysuit with both hands, tearing him downward.

“Stop! Please stop!””

“Break--” She panicked, feeling cold sweat drench her back as she heaved. This emission was incredible, the energy so rife on the air that it felt like it was going to tear her apart before it had even been cast. Tyr killing himself for nothing more than pride and a dire need to succeed and be seen.

–

Harkon watched dispassionately as Tyr's limp body was flattened by the force smashing it into the ground. Technically speaking, and known to only those who undertook the dance, there was a barrier of spira in the air that would slow their fall eventually. It was a leap of faith, but only a fool would throw their young hearts 40,000 feet into the air and allow them to strike the ground at terminal velocity.

Sometimes, someone might fall outside of the boundary and be injured, but typically the rite was 'safe'. The ground wasn't supposed to be more dangerous than the partner they'd been expected to face. Neither he nor Remus extended a hand in aid, nor did the others present, though for different reasons. To them, Tyr would heal and be just fine, but to the alfen... To anyone, and that was likely everyone, who could feel that energy being summoned, terror and no small amount of concern filled their minds.

The great coming of an elemental transcendent. But not yet. Imperfect, flawed, it would kill him before it came to fruition. He'd have become a seed, a nature spirit, and Amistad might've been destroyed in the process. What a world they lived in, even one of the elder blood shouldn't have been able to come so far and so fast. The versatility and rapid growth of mankind exacerbating him, weights that when removed would make him a monolith of violence if given the opportunity.

Mountains would shift and the beasts below would shiver.

The roars of the great wyrms who plied the sea would smash waves aside in their wrath, blood heavy on the minds of the living. All natural things were beloved by the elder races because they worshiped the world. Tangible things from their own reality, not the invaders. Going for the kill, violence for survival or simply for dominance. It didn't matter.

But the emotion behind that attack, barely stopped, was alien to anything living. It was desolation, a supreme force of destruction that wanted to turn everything to dust and return all to the void. Natural maybe, on a universal scale, but no biological thing no matter how long lived should be able to hold that kind of concept in their head without ramifications. This Tyr, prince and primus of Haran was existential dread incarnate. A horrific thing, but at the end of the day Remus would be the one to look his brother sidelong in the eye and nod. It was what they needed. Suiting their purposes so long as he was educated on what he might one day be capable of. Even if just for a little while.

Right now Tyr was only at the level to eliminate a city sized parcel of land. And it would assuredly end him in the process, thus there was no real cause for concern. Except for the minor fact of everyone below that fight nearly dying as well, including the alfen... The others being none the wiser. All they'd felt was a very powerful spell, and Tythas confirmed it with a droning review of the fight that nobody asked for. He posited Tyr had attempted a level six spell, or peak level five at best. As if that could explain the phenomena known as shaper magic, something with no backwash or loss of energy because it was inherently connected to earthly law.

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That was something that couldn't be charted by human power scaling, and Remus knew it best. He was the only 'mage' in their group of three. Mage, in their culture they called themselves seers, a rather alliterative name considering... Well, it was pretty obvious. Their magic eye and all, they saw.

“Determination?” Harkon asked Eve, alighting far more gracefully on the ground. Whereas Tyr was scraping his guts off the stone with a twisted and befuddled expression. Looking up in the air as if searching for something, lost and confused.

In the skydance, the victor was given right to choose. Typically, one would choose themselves as dominant, and unsurprisingly – she chose otherwise. Eve was rattled and exhausted, spending weeks worth of cultivated spira on a single attack. Tyr on the other hand was fine but for a few loose organs that he was slotting into place with bizarrely practiced hands.

“Then it's settled. As the powers invested in my by the clades of Aelas, and in respect to human customs, I now pronounce you Tyr and Eve Faeron. Are there any... Do you know how it works?” He looked toward Remus, and his brother merely shrugged helplessly. Human culture was beyond strange to both of them.

“There are no rebuttals.” Sigi piped up from the rear, drawing their attention. “The bargain has been struck and made, no objection or grievance from House Mournstone. I accept you as my wife.”

“None from House Goldmane.” Alex said. “We welcome you to our marriage.”

“Nor from the Stalvarg. Welcome aboard, sailor.” Astrid saluted playfully, elbowing Jura after a tense and rather awkward silence.

“Oh!” Jura's eyes widened in realization. “The, uh... The Laughing Moon gives it's assent to this bonding. Is that okay, did I do alright?”

She wasn't sure how this sort of thing worked, but Alex nodded with a smile on her face, settling the matter. Given precedent their parents would likely be thrilled at the news that an 'elf' had become their relative. If they were okay with an orc, as both Asha and Gideon had shockingly been, an alf was obvious.

“Kirk?” Astrid called aloud, hands cupped over her lips. “Are you out there?”

“Nice pull, brother-husband.” That must've been Kirk's assent. The clacking sounds of his happy claws coming from behind the crowd. “I accept!”

All well and settled until a voice from the back carried over the wind.

“I object!” All turned to face a red-faced and wheezing Martin Klaus, strutting across the field where the trial had taken place, on the eastern edge of Amistad towards the academy.

“...Martin?” Tyr asked from his seated position, not bothering to look and instead focused on the candle esque flame dancing on his finger. Trying to turn it blue again, he wasn't sure how he'd done that, but he wanted to do it again. Aesthetically, it was far more pleasing to the eye. “Don't tell me that you want to marry me too? You're not really my type, not enough mandibles.”

“I swing that way from time to time.” Martin gestured with his hands, breathless, obviously he'd run here, as there was no mount in sight. Through the hedgerow behind him, Tyr nodded toward the watchful eyes of Girshan and several score of soldiers making their way toward the group. The old beastkin returned his silent greeting, looking skyward at the hole in the clouds and back down to the... Hole in the ground... Shaking his head and chuckling. “But alas, homosexuality is still illegal in the Krieg. Bisexuality, too, can you believe that!? Granted, not much they can do about it, a fine of two gold marks is the extent of the law and I am a very wealthy man as you know. In any case, I was more interested in an elven contact of my own.”

“Alfen.” Tyr corrected. “There is no such thing as an elf. I am very smart and worldly now, trust me, they aren't elves. Elves don't have magic vampire eyes – it is known.”

“Pish posh.” Martin once again flapped his hand about before drawing close to Eve who did nothing to shy away from his approach. Even allowing him to pluck up her hand with his own and gently kiss it. Martin might be a fop, an overly dramatic sort, but he was anything if not graceful and well practiced in courtly manners. Cunning, too, a genius – and through that familiarity Tyr was feeling a bit of dissatisfaction at what the fox must've been up to. “My lady, what a pleasure it is to finally meet on of your kind again. Positively enchanting.”

“Oh?” Eve stared him down like an insect, allowing him to hold her hand for but a moment longer before forcefully removing it. Something about this man unnerved her, not necessarily his character but rather how human he was. There were good and bad in all things, that was normal, but Martin was something different in an odd sort of way. Akin to the penultimate expression of devolved nim and all their failings, the rank stench of corpo capitalism. “How about beginning with why you would violate the sanctity of this rite to pose an objection?”

Martin shrugged impotently, mock bashfulness plain in his expression. Standing, arching his back with a hands on his neck and... Chortling? It was hard to describe the sound that came out of his winded throat. Like a parakeet choking on a raisin. What...? “I've just always wanted to say it, in truth, and for no more reason than that. But as partners, I expect--”

“Fine.” Tyr growled at him, he wasn't surprised by the result of their duel but he was sick to his stomach and red faced with embarrassment. He'd lost again, and again in full view of the people he wanted to see him win. He'd grasped something, and now it was gone, 'conveniently' preventing him from killing Eve and probably a few thousand people along with her. “I will use whatever power I have to petition the alfen race to find you a wife if it means you'll get off my back. You'll die if you have sex with her, though. Although by the same token I hear it's a wild ride, they are probably the origin of all succubus myths, alfen women are ferociously passionate lovers and more besides.”

Martin looked a bit flustered, frowning slightly – something he didn't do often. Looking at Tyr like the aforementioned man had just put a raisin in his proverbial parakeet throat. “The pleasures of the flesh are immaterial. Irrelevant. Gold is the only thing that truly catches my fancy. I mean to broker trade, not a marriage, I am well aware of their... Constitution, let us say. I was once breathed on by an alfen, by request, and I would prefer never to experience that again.”

“...Oh.” Tyr looked helplessly up at the two alfen staring down at him in his position in the newly formed crater. Remus smiled, revealing the teeth of their race to him for the first time. Both the upper and lower canines and premolars were as sharp as a beastkin only shorter. That was odd, kijin had the same sort of teeth as well... Why did everyone have fangs?

“You trust this man?” Remus asked, his smile wiped away. For such a dour individual he seemed to be the only one amused by Martin's ridiculous behavior. His eyes seemed particularly drawn to the lilac suit of silk, and the feathered hat the Krieg man was wearing. Tyr thought about it for a moment before nodding. The thing about people who knew who he was, truly, and still wishing to do business with him was that they were all probably trustworthy. It took a fool not to know that should they betray his confidence, he would come for them and leave nothing behind.

“Good.” Remus nodded. “It would be my pleasure to discuss mercantile relations, at least on a personal level, between our family and your own. As for other matters, you are violating a holy rite, so we'll have to step away while my brother concludes it by custom. Harkon?”

Remus didn't leave time for his brother to protest, nor did Harkon look like he would. Simply turning toward Tyr and Eve, his eyes focusing on each of them individually like a chameleon. Another similarity, Alyx had done the same – but Tyr supposed complete mastery over bodily functions made it an acceptable standard. “I don't see much of a point in going through the specifics. We get the blood, you know what to do as a priestess, understood?”

“Understood.” Eve nodded, reaching out her arm toward Tyr. “Ready?”

He didn't accept it. Knowing full well that it was petty, he picked himself up and followed her silently back to his estate to end the farce and get on with his life. He was still in a very poor mood, but it had very little to do with losing the contest. Tyr just didn't understand where all this effort was actually leading if not toward triumphant victory. He shuddered to think that all of these games the gods played were just a show for them.

All to watch him fail again.