For the next three days, all four of the Aspirants spent most of their waking hours cycling their Essence, trying to glean as much of the Aether marbles’ power for themselves as possible. They barely took breaks to eat, and only slept a handful of hours each night.

Hunter was no exception. He’d never stayed logged in for so long before. His breaks were as brief as possible, planned down to the last second. He allowed himself no more than four or five hours of sleep per night. It wasn’t a schedule he could sustain long-term, but he was determined to make every second count.

By the end of the first day, he thought that his marble felt smaller, lighter. By the end of the second, he was sure of it. And by the end of the third, it looked more like a pellet than a marble. Still, he’d hoped to absorb it all before having to turn it in to Fawkes.

The other three were making progress as well – though not as much as he was. Hunter was particularly pleased to note that Yuma’s marble was shrinking much slower than his own. The other Aspirant took great care to hide it, but nothing escaped the watchful eyes of Hunter’s two feathery spies.

At sunset on the third day, Fawkes walked over to the center of the Sacred Training Grounds to announce that their time was up.

“Alright, that's enough. Return your marbles to me. Come on, put them down. A few more seconds of cycling won’t do you much good, if three days of it didn’t.”

One by one, the Aspirants rose to their feet and handed in their marble to Fawkes, who put them in a small, moth-eaten velvet pouch.

“What’s this?” she said when Hunter handed her what remained of his, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“Uh… in my channels, I guess?”

“Good grace, lad! What did you do – eat it?”

Hunter couldn’t suppress a grin. That sounded suspiciously close to praise. Yuma, of course, pretended not to hear any of that. His marble was still the largest of the four.

“So, what’s next?” Hunter asked.

“For you, a day or two of rest,” said Fawkes. “Then we’ll get to work fixing that hand. Oh, and do you mind gathering some extra firewood? The nights are starting to get chilly this time of the year.”

“You’re the boss,” he said, and reached out to Biggs and Wedge through their mental connection. With little else to do over the past few days, the two raven familiars had mapped every inch of the surrounding area. They knew exactly where to find firewood, and all Hunter had to do was follow them and pick it up.

“I’m coming with you,” Inago volunteered. “We’ll be able to carry more that way.”

Hunter welcomed the company. The two of them followed the ravens deeper into the woods. Fyodor trotted alongside Hunter too, pausing now and then to sniff at leaves and fallen branches.

“So, how’s it going with the whole cycling thing?” Hunter asked once they were far enough from the others. “Making any progress?”

Inago smiled faintly, eyes focused on the path ahead.

“Better than before, I think. That marble definitely helped.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. This wasn’t the jolly Inago he knew. Normally, he’d be brimming with enthusiasm even for the most mundane things. When he offered to come along, Hunter half-expected Inago to chatter nonstop about how wondrous an experience cycling his Essence was. Something was clearly weighing on him. Hunter decided to address it head-on. There was no point in being taciturn.

“You seem off. Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I mean, yes. Maybe? I’m not sure I should say anything. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Upset me?”

“Yes.”

Inago was acting weird. There was something eating at him, something he wanted to talk about.

“It’s alright,” Hunter said. “You can tell me.”

Inago frowned, as if still caught in the last pangs of an inner battle, then nodded.

“I overheard the Elders talking by the fire last night, just outside the tents. Arguing, really. I didn’t mean to – they wouldn't let me sleep!”

“Yes, I can imagine,” Hunter said. He’d seen Fawkes pissed, and Wroth was loud even at the best of times. “What were they arguing about?”

“Well… Elder Wroth was saying that Elder Fawkes and you should both leave. That you do not respect our traditions, that you do not belong.”

It was Hunter’s turn to frown – though that wasn;t exactly the newsflash Inago was making out to be.

“What else?”

“He said that Elder Fawkes was an outlander, a woman, and a witch to boot, and that she shouldn’t be helping with training folken Aspirants.”

Hunter felt a cold anger slowly rise in him. Fawkes had gone out of her way to help those people in more ways than one. She wasn’t even getting anything out of all this, not really. Just a few days before, Wroth himself was telling the other Aspirants how thankful they should be to her for giving them the chance to use the Aether Marbles.

“Anything else?” he asked Inago.

“Ugh… Yes, actually. He also said that Yuma’s the only one worthy of training as an Aspirant. That Tayen and I are good, yes, but not good enough. And about you…”

Inago’s frown deepened, and he turned his gaze away, cheeks flushing in the evening chill.

“I’m not going to get upset,” Hunter said. “I promise.”

“He said you don’t fit either. Said that you work hard, but you’re soft. That you can’t even make it through training without crippling yourself, or somesuch.”

Hunter felt a surge of fury flare up, and he had to run through every bit of CBT work and affirmation he’d practiced to keep his blood from boiling.

“I’m sorry,” Inago added. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s true. Neither does Tayen.”

“But Wroth does. And so does Yuma.”

“No, he –”

“No need to defend him, Inago.” Hunter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying not to erupt. “He’s told me so himself.”

“Yuma… He wasn’t always like that. He's under a lot of pressure.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Again, so he’s told me. Never mind that. Back to the Elders. What did Fawkes say?”

“She was furious. She said some harsh things about Elder Wroth and Yuma—ugly, maybe, but not unwarranted. Tempers started to rise. That’s when I stepped out of my tent and played the fool, just to remind them we could hear every word. They didn’t say much after that.”

Hunter nodded, gave Inago a friendly pat on the back.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re a good friend, Inago. I appreciate it.”

Inago shrugged, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Everyone else knows, one way or another. I figured if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t want to be the only one left in the dark.”

They followed the ravens in the woods in awkward silence, gathering firewood until each had an armful. Witnessing Fawkes and Wroth’s heated exchange weighed heavily on Inago – that much was clear. He seemed like a child caught between quarreling parents, uncertain and uneasy. Hunter wanted to lighten the mood, but he wasn’t thrilled by what he’d heard, either. If anything, he was pissed. Pissed at Wroth, pissed at Yuma, and pissed that Inago had been unwittingly dragged into it all.

“Can I ask a favor?” he asked Inago just as they neared the campsite.

The other Aspirant was caught off-guard, but he still nodded.

“Anything.”

“If all goes well, in a few days my hand will be all fixed up. I’d like your help catching up on my glaivework. Maybe some extra sparring sessions, just the two of us.”

“Sure thing!” Inago’s face brightened. “I could use the extra practice myself.”

“Thank you. For everything, I mean. I really appreciate it.”

***

They stacked the firewood in a neat pile by the tents, where Tayen was busy building a fire, then headed to a nearby stream to wash up. Afterward, Hunter logged out for a bit; he had to tend to his real body’s needs. This whole Transient thing was wearing him thin. By the time he logged back in an hour later, everyone was gathered around the crackling campfire, eating dinner.

He took his usual seat between Fawkes and Inago, with Fyodor glued to his side. Tayen handed him a piping-hot ear of corn. He’d already grabbed a bite at the cafeteria, but he thanked her and took it anyway.

They spent the rest of the evening swapping tales and sharing bits of folklore, voices mingling with the crackle of the fire and the rustle of the night around them. Fawkes and Wroth avoided each other as much as possible. It was subtle, but after what Inago had told Hunter earlier, the tension between them was clear as day. Knowing Fawkes, however, Hunter doubted their uneasy ceasefire would last long. Wroth was as prone to giving offense as she was at taking it.

It happened as Wroth was sharing a fable about the first Aspirants of the Brennai, the three great heroes that the White Cloud Sage had deemed the worthiest among the Ancestors.

“Pardon my ignorance, Elder Wroth,” Fawkes interjected, her tone openly belligerent, “but I was under the impression that the first Aspirants were four, not three?”

“Indeed, Elder,” Tayen added, coolly and a bit too eagerly. “Though most of the storytellers tend to forget that.”

“And for good reason,” said Wroth, casting a wary glance at Fawkes. “The fourth one –”

“Elder Okemah,” Tayen interjected again.

“The fourth one,” Wroth repeated, annoyed, “whose name we do not speak, fell from the grace of the Ancestors. She consorted with dark spirits and twisted the teachings of the White Cloud Sage into her own wicked version of a Path.”

“Yes, the Path of the Dark Cloud,” Tayen said, pushing her luck. “Or at least that’s what the other Elders claimed when she challenged their wisdom and leadership.”

“Ancestors forbid a woman should have wisdom and power of her own,” Fawkes shook her head, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She must be evil, no?”

Yuma crooked an eyebrow.Inago cast a wary glance at Elder Wroth, obviously uncomfortable with the rising tension. Tayen, for her part, looked very satisfied with herself.

“Elder Kammui was one of the three first Aspirants,” Wroth said, his ire bleeding into his voice. “She had power and wisdom aplenty, and she was a woman, but we still honor and celebrate her.”

“Again, pardon my ignorance,” Fawkes said, “but didn’t she also happen to be the wife and sister of the other two great heroes? What were their names?”

“Elder Baran and Elder Otheh. Yes. She was a wise woman. She understood that the Ancestors’ traditions are to be followed and upheld, not opposed and scorned.”

“Oddly fitting,” Fawkes clicked her tongue.

Wroth’s jaw tightened.

“If you mean to say something, Elder, get on with it and say it already.”

“Oh, I am saying it, Elder. There’s a saying in Quortain – history is written by the victors. Seems to me that applies just as well to oral history.”

Wroth opened his mouth to reply, but Tayen jumped in before he could speak.

“What about your world, Hunter? What do your traditions say about women?”

Hunter gave it some thought.

“What you have to understand about my world,” he began, “is that it's a pretty big place. A lot of people live in it – and I mean, a lot. So it goes without saying that views and traditions vary depending on where you go. Which, I suppose, is the case for this world, your world too. But, to answer your question… Where I come from, the general consensus is that women and men are seen as equals, if that’s what you ask.”

Tayen listened, intent.

“Can women choose their livelihood and trade?”

“Yes,” Hunter nodded. “ In most places, women can choose what to do for a living. Again, not everywhere in my world is like that. But where I come from… It’s pretty much a given.”

“And do women choose who to marry?”

At that, Yuma rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. Hunter chose to pointedly ignore his reaction and focus on Tayen instead.

“Again, yes, for the most part. Where I’m from, women usually have the freedom to choose who they marry. Or whether they want to marry at all. It’s a personal decision, not something forced by family or tradition.”

“I see,” Tayen nodded, fixing her gaze squarely on Yuma, all but daring him to respond. “I have to say, I like the sound of that.”

Hunter wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but whatever it was, it was juicy. He hadn’t had much chance to get to know Tayen all that well. Still, from what he’d seen, she didn’t seem like the type to be content playing the dutiful wife – especially to someone like Yuma.

Yuma, on the other hand, looked livid. His face grew redder with each passing moment.

“I –” he opened his mouth to retort, but Wroth cut him off before he could get another word out.

“Now, now… Our traditions are not as rigid or unkind as you make them out to be, Tayen. They’re the roots that have held our people together for generations.”

Tayen crossed her arms and shook her head, looking straight at Wroth.

“I like better what Hunter’s saying. Freedom, choice – that’s what matters. What should matter. For all, not just for some.”

“That may work in his world,” Wroth sighed. “Ours follows a different order. A natural order. Our ways –”

“Oh, what a crock of shite!” Fawkes snapped, her patience all but gone. “A natural order? The noble families in Usdeneau are matriarchal. Sons take their mother’s name, husbands their wife’s. In Quortain, the whole realm is ruled by a Queen. The Church of the Way of the True speaks of the Goddess, not a God! What, are those places still too outlandish for you? Fine! Four Hills has a woman for mayor, and it’s only a week’s journey away. You’ve traded with them for decades!”

“Now, listen –” Wroth tried to say, irritated, but there was no stopping her.

“Grimnir’s beard, take a look at your own village! Do you reckon it’s that fool of an alderman who’s been keeping together the smattering of pig-sticking clans you call a nation? Give it a year or ten – wait till Hallara finally has enough of you lot and kicks the bucket. See what happens then.”

The silence was deafening. Fawkes had taken it too far.

Wroth’s face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger, jaw clenched tight. Yuma scoffed, crossing his arms and shaking his head with open disdain. Tayen looked almost gleeful. Inago shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Hunter as if hoping he might diffuse the tension. And Hunter, for his part, sat still, watching the scene unfold with morbid curiosity.

“That is enough, Elder,” Wroth said, practically biting off each word. “You’ve made your point. No need to go as far as to offend our gracious hosts even as you eat their food and warm your bones by their fire. Or is that what passes for good manners in Usdeneau and Quortain?”

Fawkes met Wroth’s glare evenly, if somewhat calmed down after her outburst.

“No insult was intended, Elder. These are just my two bits. Still, there are no two ways about it; something’s gone rotten in the way the folken conduct themselves. That’s why that darkness has taken root in the Weald you once called home. And that’s what we’re here to put right, you and I.”

Wroth studied her, his eyes narrow and guarded. He seemed to wrestle with himself, torn between pushing back and letting it rest. After a few long breaths, he finally nodded. “Yes,” he said, his tone begrudging. “On this, at least, we can agree.”