Pirin sat as still as he could. He pushed his back up against a stack of barrels and held his breath. His Essence swirled back towards his core, and held it as still as he could. He needed to rest his channels as much as he could.

Here, behind the barrels, he was out of sight, but that didn’t mean the soldiers wouldn’t go looking for him.

He just needed to last long enough. Gray would be circling back any time, now. Pirin had to be ready to form a Reyad and jump.

The stack of barrels wasn’t a perfect hiding place, not by a long shot. Every second, the clank of the soldiers’ armour grew louder. They shouted and yelled, but there were still too many speaking at once to be intelligible.

Then, hoofbeats approached rapidly. The one remaining mounted soldier rode past. He was high up on his horse, holding his spear ahead of him like he was jousting. If he looked to his side and down, he’d see Pirin.

Pirin held still, keeping his grip on his sword tight. He stared at the side of the man’s head, silently urging him to keep riding.

It did nothing without a technique.

The rider pulled back on his reins violently. The horse let out a hoarse neigh, then a gurgle.

Pirin sprung up to his feet and swung his sword upwards. He slashed through the rider’s spear, severing the spearhead, then impaled the rider’s gut through a gap the side of his armour. The man fell off his horse with a clatter.

Pirin had broken cover. Now, everyone could see him.

Tugging gently on the horse’s reins, he turned the animal back towards the soldiers. He didn’t mount it. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins, and the horse sprinted away. The rest of the soldiers leapt out of the way, breaking their formation.

Out of formation, the soldiers trickled towards Pirin. Most carried standard Dominion swords—mass-manufactured and weak weapons. Only a few of them wore helmets. The rest wore thin iron circlets around their heads.

And they were just men—not ostal. Enlistees from conquered lands. Their armour was dirty and dented, and their white waist capes were dirty and stained.

It shouldn’t be a problem if they came one at a time.

The first reached him. He deflected the man’s blade into the ground, then slashed sideways. The man spun and fell.

Two more soldiers converged. Pirin deflected both of their swipes. Those had both been aimed at his head.

He ducked away, remembering the patterns he had practiced, then whirled his sword around him. In a flash, his blade sliced upwards, cutting through both men.

Pirin dispatched another one with quick swipes, but two more approached. One landed a light slash on his forearm and another managed to graze his thigh. He retreated backwards, inching closer to the edge of the sandstone platform. The massive statue’s hand ended only ten steps behind him.

He didn’t stop. The alleyway narrowed around him with every step, and now, only one person could fit through at a time. A soldier charged, leading with a high swipe of his sword. He dragged it through the plaster wall beside him, throwing out a shower of white dust. Pirin shielded his eyes and pressed his back flat against the other side of the alley to dodge the swipe, then he lunged, striking the soldier in the chest.

The Dominion’s armour was mass-manufactured as well, and its forging was less than prime. Pirin’s first strike shattered the breastplate, and a second pierced through.

Distant wingbeats thrummed in the air. Gray was approaching. Before the next soldier could charge, Pirin flooded his mask’s runes with Essence. He synchronized everything. The ichor dissolved into his blood, and his channels straightened out.

His vision burned with golden light and he slumped to his knees. He forced his eyes open as quickly as he could, making himself as ready as he could be to respond to any of the soldiers.

The nearest soldier had stopped in place, and the man behind him had taken a few steps back.

They’d probably never seen a Reyad formed in their lives before.

Pirin sucked in a sharp breath, then, using his sword as a cane, he pushed himself up to his feet.

When he inhaled, he sensed a distinct, strong core nearby to lock onto. Gray was getting closer. Her presence calmed him, and the gnatsnapper Essence flowing through his channels felt cool and calming, like he was flying on birdback, high up above the surface of the planet.

I’m ten seconds away from you, said Gray, her voice echoing inside his head. Think you can hold on long enough?

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“Don’t worry about me,” Pirin whispered, keeping his voice low—it was all he could muster right after forming a Reyad.

He stepped back once more, holding his sword out towards the soldiers. None of them approached. When he reached the end of the alley, he kicked away a wooden railing, breaking it off. There was nothing beyond.

Five seconds, Gray said.

“Stop him!” one of the soldiers shouted at the same time—an ostal low-marshal. “He’s a wizard!”

One of the soldiers tried to push through the alley, but it was too late.

Now! Gray yelled.

Pirin pushed off the edge of the platform with a Winged Kick, launching himself through the air. Gray swooped beneath him, her wings spread wide. He fell a few feet, then clutched the pommel of her saddle. His fingers slipped, but he snagged one of the straps with his other hand and hauled himself up.

Slotting his feet into the stirrups and pressing his arms down on Gray’s back, he whispered, “Let’s just get back to the airship now.”

image [https://static.wixstatic.com/media/f3a882_5e221995337243e6a7d4250b55d3aeea~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_280,h_232,al_c,lg_1,q_85,enc_auto/embercore%20sigil.png]

As soon as Pirin and Gray circled down to the clearing where the Featherflight waited, Alyus and Brealtod ran out to meet him.

Brealtod let out one his usual long hisses. His reptilian eyes scanned Pirin from head to toe, and he nodded, then hoisted his hammer and carried it back inside the airship’s gondola.

“Ah, good, made it back intact,” Alyus said, stepping closer. He patted Pirin’s arm, then pulled his hand back. “You…do realize you’re bleeding, elfy?”

“I was about to do something about that…”

“Well, then go, go do something about that! You might try to get out of chores by getting yourself taken away by some angry sect warriors, but you’ll have to try pretty hard to play the injury card. Then try to get some sleep—it’s well past midnight, now.”

Looking directly at Alyus, Brealtod let out a few short hisses.

Shaking his head, Alyus pushed Pirin gently towards the gondola. “Yeah, yeah, I know, we’re finished with the work he can help us with.” Alyus paused, glanced at Gray, then said, “Or go to the cargo hold, I guess, and get yourself repaired with your bird in sight. We’ll find Antlers and tell her you’re back.”

“On my way,” Pirin said. He rolled his sleeves up as he walked (or limped—both from the stiffness in his legs and because of the new grazes he’d earned) back to the cargo hold.

The bottom of the envelope had opened, revealing a cargo platform that could raise and lower. Thankfully, it had been lowered, and it rested on the ground now. Pirin sat down on the edge, right next to Gray’s nest of woven branches and straw.

She hopped into her nest and settled down, resting her head against one of the edges. You need to stop hurting yourself. I feel that too when you link up.

Pirin reached into his haversack, retrieving a set of clean bandages that he’d prepared. He began to wrap his leg, being the more grievous of his injuries. When he applied pressure, it began to sting. “Sorry. But hey, how’s that for pushing myself into tougher places?”

Well, you applied the Winged Kick. And improved the Shattered Palm. She paused. But you still haven’t formed any Timbers, and we’re no closer to advancing. Or…just you. How does that work? Do we both have to advance our cores, now?

Pirin shrugged. “Your core is pretty strong. We’ll probably have to do some examining to see what stage your core is at. For all we know, you already have Timbers, and I’m just lagging behind.”

He tied off the bandage on his leg, making as tight of a knot as he could. Then, he added, “But at least we made progress on the techniques. Plus, I’m getting better at managing the aftermath of the Reyad—”

Rustling undergrowth and crunching twigs cut him off. Myraden bounded into the clearing, riding atop Kythen. The beast didn’t have a saddle, but she didn’t seem to need one. She whispered commands to it in a foreign language, and it trotted over to the cargo platform, before dropping to its knees and depositing her on the solid ground.

“What happened?” Myraden demanded. “Where were you? Are you alright?”

He looked down at his leg and shrugged, then glanced at his arm. He could bandage it while he talked. “I…got a little sidetracked,” he said. “I had a run-in with some Dominion soldiers.”

Then, he explained the entirety of what had happened—including his encounter with Nomad. While he spoke, Alyus and Brealtod gathered around as well, listening intently. As soon as he finished the story, he finished tying off the bandage along his forearm as well.

When Pirin finished, Alyus said, “Well…Brealtod’s right. There’s not much else you two can help us with. The rest is intricate work—sewing up the gasbags and such, and I wouldn’t trust you two to do it right, even if you knew how to do it.”

Pirin glanced at Myraden. She only offered a stern stare. Looking back at Alyus, Pirin asked, “How long do we have before you can get us up in the air?”

“Give it a month. We’ll have to sew up all the little tears, then paint some sealant back over all the stitches. After that, we’ll pump it full of lyftgas and—”

“I get the idea.” Pirin leaned forwards, pressing his hands on his knees. “Nomad’s strong. Really strong.”

“Did you…observe his spirit?” Myraden asked. “How? You cannot have activated your spiritual senses yet, correct?”

“He broke a disruption collar with just a staff. He’s fast, and…and I didn’t even see his Familiar. He didn’t even need one for that mission, I guess.” Pirin paused. “But even if we don’t get him to teach us, learning Reign—whatever that is—has to be important. The gems’ll help a lot, by the sounds of it.”

“Reign is an aura of intent and willpower cultivated specifically for a weapon,” Myraden stated. “As of now, it is beyond both of our realms of understanding.”

“We have a chance to fix that.” Pirin smiled. “Nomad wants prodigies. Geniuses. So let’s push ourselves. Prove that we can become what he wants.”