Reforging his body so quickly, after only pumping himself so full of elixirs, wasn’t a good idea.

Pirin realized this as soon the process began. It was supposed to be painful, but tearing at the nature of his channels, threatening to rip his spirit to shreds and cut his entire Essence system to ribbons? Not ideal.

The hollow pain of spiritual damage grated on him like sandpaper-covered needles were being stabbed in and out of his core and soul over and over again.

Usually, it took people months, if not years, to pass between the stages. He had forced it in a day with an enormous infusion of elixir and wild-treasures.

But that was what elixirs were for, right?

Pirin fell to his knees on the floor. He clenched his teeth. Any harder, and he’d shatter them. He ripped off the gossamer shirt, bunched it up, and wedged it into his mouth—just before he lost control of his body.

Gray lay on the ground beside him, writhing and chirping and squawking. Pirin was partly feeling her pain through their Reyad, and she was feeling his. But her body would reforge itself as well, and it didn’t do either of them any good when they were in just as much pain as each other.

Black and brown sludge leaked out of Pirin’s pores. It smelled ferric, but also like rot and decay.

He forced his eyes to hold themselves open a little longer, even though it felt like his muscles were disintegrating and his bones were being pounded by a blacksmith’s hammer. The portcullis to the cell with the wild-treasures was still open. There were still more cloud treasures inside, waiting for him to draw them out.

He bit down on the rolled-up shirt and held out his hands, then drew in one more cloud treasure. He was already doing this—may as well do it right. As best as he could.

This time, he felt exactly what happened. It seeped into his channels, white mist combining with his willpower and Essence, and controlling the Eane, the very fabric of the world, to imbue him with the strength of the treasure. It leaked out into the muscles he had prepared, filling them with arcane strength and reforging them in a form that the Eane found more suitable.

A stronger form.

His muscle strands shifted and knitted in different patterns, and he screamed louder than he ever had before. Gray screeched like a bird of prey.

Before he shut his eyes, he held out the void pendant one more time. He didn’t have any more room or tolerance for more wild-treasures in his channels right now, but he couldn’t let them dissipate and go to waste.

The cloud treasures surged toward him, trying still to bond with him, but he put the opening of the void pendant right in their way. Instead, they flooded into the diamond-shaped gap in the air. Once they flooded in, Pirin sealed the void pendant.

He clenched his fists and his teeth, then fell onto his back. A pool of debris and expelled impurities surrounded him, leaking out of his body. His muscles writhed beneath his skin, and his bones felt like they were rolling in place.

It took all his will just to keep cycling Essence, to keep pushing the cloud treasures around his body.

He didn’t know how long it would last, but there would never be a better opportunity.

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]

Myraden heard Pirin scream, and at first, she thought something was wrong. She leapt to her feet and broke off her cycling pattern, then ripped her spear out of her void pendant and fed it Essence.

But then his screams continued. Normally, that’d make it worse, but she knew exactly what he was doing.

He was going fast. Faster than most wizards ever went.

He is making up for lost time, Kythen said in her mind.

Advancing a stage and a half in a day wasn’t sustainable.

He has techniques to make him go faster, Kythen tried.

With a sigh, Myraden threw down her arms. She knew exactly why she felt this way. He’d started reforging his body before her. Pirin, the Embercore, of all people, had reached the midpoint of Flare before her.

He’d have to slow down eventually, but if he was truly making up for lost time, then that meant he should’ve just been getting himself where he should be—where his spirit was ready for him to be. And that was above Myraden.

It’s not a competition, Kythen said. You are different people.

She shook her head. Advancement wasn’t about who you were—hereditary bloodlines and perceived innate characteristics were for politicians, not wizards—but what you could make yourself into.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

At least, that was what her father had always told her.

But there are some without magic at all, Kythen said. There are people like Pirin with an Embercore. There are people with powerful Bloodline Talents. Sometimes, nature doesn’t bless everyone.

Myraden sighed. She reached for a spoked wheel beside the portcullis that contained the silk treasures, then spun it.

Kythen might have been half-correct, but she wasn’t going let that stop her. It hadn’t stopped her before. The world wasn’t fair. She had to fight to make it better. She’d see the Dominion destroyed and peace restored. It was only right, after what they’d done to her.

Still looking for revenge?

She pulled the spoked wheel harder. So what if she was?

Kythen bleated softly. We’ve been over this…

Turning to look at him, she scowled. In Ískaben, she said, “No girl will have to grow up without a father. I must usher in a world without the Dominion.”

Kythen said nothing else.

It was time to enhance her body, then. She was ready. Everything was in place. When the portcullis slid up into the roof, it locked in place. The wild treasures, the strand of red southern silk, floated around, ready for her to use.

But she couldn’t use all of it. She didn’t need all of it to complete the mid-Flare reforging. She spun her spearhead, then with a precise swipe, she slashed a quarter of the silk strand off.

She cast her weapons aside and braced herself, taking a wider stance and holding out her hands. She snatched up the quarter-length of the red silk strand and drew it in. It’d be more than she needed—more than advised—but she could handle it. She wrapped the treasure with strands of her willpower and it responded. It crumbled into a red mist and surged into her channels, crossing over from reality to arcane.

Immediately, her muscles liquified and her bones trembled. She fell to her knees, gasping. Before she could crumble all the way, she opened up her void pendant and drew the rest of the red silk treasure into it.

Kythen collapsed beside her, letting out a string of uncontrollable bleats. Their advancement began.

As always, she had to make her own way.

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]

Pirin didn’t know when he passed out. He clung to consciousness as long as he could, cycling Essence and pushing the cloud treasures around his body, but eventually the strain on his mind and body was too much.

When he woke up, he laid in a half-inch thick puddle of black sludge. It covered his entire body and made his fingers sticky. He’d bitten all the way through his shirt, and it was in shreds now.

But when he stood up, his muscles responded instantly. Faster than ever before. It was like a mist had been lifted from his mind.

The Cloudborn Brace had a larger emphasis on speed and agility than raw strength, but it still made him much stronger than he was before. He took a step. His muscles twitched, and it felt like he had just run a few steps with the effort of walking.

To test his new strength, he helped haul Gray up to her feet. She shook off her wings, spattering waste and advancement debris all over the hallway, then let out a soft squawk. Woah. She flapped her wings fast and hard, creating a gale that blasted the rest of the sludge off her and Pirin’s bodies. Her wings moved fast enough that they became a blur.

Pirin raised his eyes. Even among the wizards of the Elven Continent—the other bird-Path racers he fought against—he hadn’t seen their birds flap that fast.

Gray’s wingtip swatted Pirin in the chest. It struck with a boom and flung him back along the wall. He tumbled, then cracked against the stone brick outside.

Oh! Oh no! I’m sorry, I—

Pirin stood up. He only felt a dull ache in his back and chest. His new body was durable, too. “It’s alright, Gray. I’m alright.”

Oh, good. Not sorry, then. What kind of monster did Nomad create, hm?

“We’re not going to be monsters,” Pirin asserted. He shook out his hands, then looked down. Even in the flickering light of the candles, his new eyes could see more detail with less light.

And that meant he could see the lines of…white mist running along his hands. They streaked up from his fingers and wrapped around the backs of hands, then crawled up his forearms like vambraces. They dissipated whenever he moved, but they were always there.

That was the mark of the Cloudborn Brace.

The Broadcloud, Gray corrected him. Don’t forget! There are little flecks of…green-ness in there.

Pirin snorted. The cloud gauntlets had a slight greenish tint. He turned around and looked at Gray. At first, he’d thought the glove of white mist around her beak was just the light glinting off it, but it stayed even when she moved into the shadows, and when he looked closer, the mist clung in veins, just like Pirin’s gauntlets.

It’d take some getting used to, but he didn’t mind it.

The only thing was…no other Flare he’d seen had such markings.

No other Flare has taken in as much wild-treasure power as you have, either.

“That…” Pirin raised a finger. “We took in that much?”

I think you’re misjudging how motivated other wizards are. And their tolerance for spiritual pain.

Pirin didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Now…we need to go find Myraden.” Through the floorboards and the hallways, she grunted and hissed in pain—she must have been entering the main body-reforging phase as well.

He turned away from the candle and ran back to the open portcullis, then snatched up his void pendant. His mask was still on, and his Reyad was still more powerful than it was in his Embercore state. He blasted a current of wind over Gray, cleaning her beak and face off, then ran to the stairs.

The moment Pirin reached the stairs to the floor up, footsteps began to pound against the steps below. Someone else was coming up.

He took a step back into the shadows and prepared a Winged Fist. His Essence wasn’t any stronger or purer, but his body responded to his commands faster.

The Flare-stage guard that they had dragged inside earlier and knocked out ran up the stairs, short sword drawn. The stairs were too cramped for his horse Familiar, but he still had an enhanced body and a weapon.

The guard took a glance down the hallway, then continued on, taking the stairs up to the next level two at a time. If he found Myraden in the middle of the enhancement, she’d be vulnerable.

Pirin leapt out of the shadows and sprinted up the stairs behind the guard. His body was lighter and faster, and each step took half as much energy. When his feet landed, they barely made a patter.

He caught up to the guard in a matter of seconds and tapped the man on the shoulder.