Pirin got a full night’s sleep for the rest of the night. When he woke up, Myraden made him eat an extra portion of rations to help him recover his strength, then they continued on.

He tried his hardest not to pester her with questions, but he couldn’t stop himself. “So…does Gray need to form Timbers yet? How would we go about doing that? Should she do it herself, or—”

“Have you looked at her core yet?” Myraden asked. “Since you formed your first Timber?”

Pirin gulped. He couldn’t say he’d looked at Gray’s core at all. “You may have to, uh, enlighten me.”

“On how to do that?”

“Yeah…”

Myraden threw her arms down. “Instead of following your consciousness down to your own core, follow it out through your channels, and through the link between you and Gray.”

“And that will just…work? Will I be able to see how powerful her core is?”

“You—” She cut herself off, but Pirin could hear a faint growl growing in the back of her throat. Then, stiffly, she said, “Apologies. I often forget that you have not been raised by tutors and other wizards.”

“Were you?”

“I was taught by the best tutors and trainers my family could give me,” Myraden said. “And by my father. But that was before the Burning of Ískan, and none of them are alive anymore.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I am the last of my family…”

Pirin didn’t know what to say, so instead, he clamped his lips shut and tried doing what she suggested.

Like he was trying to view his own core, he focussed his consciousness down on his own stomach, then let it drift through his channels, tracing where he knew them to be. Eventually, it leaked out his chest and travelled along an invisible tether—straight to Gray’s core.

Her core looked how he expected most cores to: a ball of glowing blue light with a slight colour shift of her Essence. It wasn’t a cracked, ashy marble.

Beneath her core, a single Timber of similarly-coloured Essence had formed, and it was cracked in the exact same way as Pirin’s.

“She has a Timber as well,” he said aloud. Myraden would hear, hopefully.

“As long as your Reyad is active while you form your Timbers,” she said, “you will both have them.”

Pirin figured he should open his eyes sooner than later—he could walk straight into a wall if he wasn’t careful—but there was a little more time to linger. He held out his hands in front of him, just in case.

He tried to examine Gray’s core. It wasn’t weak and barely-cohesive—like his was at the Kindling stage, so it had advanced. But it was also stronger than his was right now, so it had to be more powerful than a Spark-stage core as well.

Without his proper spiritual senses, he couldn’t say for certain, but he guessed it was a core around the peak of the Catch stage.

“If Gray’s core has advanced past Spark, why doesn’t she already have Soul Timbers?” Pirin asked. He opened his eyes, calling his mind back into itself. But there wasn’t much to see, except a long, dark hallway cast in blood-red light.

“Wraiths and sacred beasts might have cores, but they function very differently than a proper, sapient being like you and I. Their advancement is based on sheer accumulation of power, whereas ours takes more skill and refinement. Ours leads to more power, and thankfully, it seems that her core is functioning as a Familiar’s should.”

“Well, I’ll take it,” Pirin said. He patted Gray on the head, then asked her, “How do you feel, what with some of the dragon’s consciousness still inside you?”

I…I heard its voice once, Gray said. When you were forming the Timber, the dragon didn’t like it—not one bit. Probably wants me to advance the wraith way, thinking about it, but I’m more than in charge.

“Also good to hear.”

After that, he took off his mask and disabled his Reyad—he needed to give his body a break, no matter how much he wanted to leave it on.

For two more days, they continued downwards. Every night after, while he kept watch, he spent his time drawing in Essence from the outside and practicing sword patterns. The more he could drill himself, the better. If he was supposed to be forming a proper connection with the sword, that would be a good starting point.

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During the day, Pirin and Myraden took turns making light. She claimed that she was doing fine, and that her cycling technique—one passed down through generations of her family—was effective at maintaining her Essence. Still, her channels had to be getting strained, and if Pirin could take some of the burden off, he would.

Besides, it helped him train his body to resist the immediate exhaustion of forming a Reyad.

They encountered two more stampedes of Rustlers, which they dodged and avoided, and a single, weak stone wraith that Myraden dispelled with a pulse of raw bloodhorn Essence. The Essence wasn’t bound by a technique, but it didn’t need to be.

On the third night, when Pirin was keeping watch, three stone wraiths approached. He led them as far away from Myraden as he could, while still keeping watch on her and Kythen, then set to work.

The three of them were shaped like gorillas, just like the other wraiths, but they differed in size—and surely strength.

A Shattered Palm was enough to dispel the smallest, even with a frontal assault. Its armoured belly exploded inwards, flinging stone back down the hallway.

He tried the same with the second, middle-sized wraith, but it only blew the wraith’s stoney shoulder off—and launched the rock straight into the chest of the third, largest wraith. The largest wraith absorbed the extra stones into its armour.

Still, the second wraith reeled. Pirin only had one more Shattered Palm in him. Or at least, that’s how his channels felt. He needed to aim it wisely. Gray chirped at him, then dove to the left, drawing the second wraith’s attention—it still responded to whatever animalistic impulses drove it and chased after her.

As soon as it presented its flank, Pirin blasted his last Shattered Palm into the creature’s side, shattering it completely.

Then came the last, largest stone wraith, lumbering down the hallway on its knuckles. He couldn’t give an exact estimate of its power, but it was slightly larger than the wraith Pirin and Myraden had faced together on the first day in the tunnels.

“So…” He looked at Gray, even if she wouldn’t be able to understand him at the moment. “We’re on our own this time.” He backed up slowly, holding his sword in his right hand. He flourished it, but just chopping at the wraith’s legs would blunt the blade. “We’re gonna need our Reyad.”

The wraith charged towards him, and he and Gray leapt to the side, pressing themselves against the wall.

But the wraith had a clear path to Myraden.

“Over here!” Pirin yelled, swinging his sword at the hindquarters of the wraith. The tip of his blade bounced off its stoney calves, but like the others, its back wasn’t as heavily armoued. The blow sent a clump of pebbles flying.

Letting out a breathy bellow, the wraith turned around—away from Myraden and back towards Pirin.

Pirin already had his mask out. He pulled it onto his head and flooded the runes, immediately forming a Reyad. The pressure and exhaustion tried to push him to his knees, but he resisted it this time.

When the golden glow cleared from his eyes, the stone wraith was winding up, ready to swing at him. He ducked, his legs aching with the movement, then retaliated with a Winged Fist. His proper Reyad-enabled techniques didn’t cause nearly as much spiritual strain as the Shattered Palm did.

The gust of wind, however, only blew a layer of dust off the surface of the wraith’s armour.

Now that she was behind the beast, Gray began to peck at its calves. The wraith began to turn, until Pirin reached up and thrust his sword into its chin.

The wraith bellowed much louder. But the strike couldn’t have done much more than anger it. Pirin pulled his sword away before the rocks tightened and snapped the tip of his blade right off.

He gripped the hilt tight, cycling as he prepared his next strike. He didn’t control where the Essence went; there was no time to think about that.

A tongue of energy cycled up into the back of his mind, and a few images flashed through his mind before he could reign it back under control. They were all of a purple-eyed man, dressed in elven armour, carrying the exact same sword Pirin held.

When the visions cleared, a stone arm was careening towards Pirin’s midsection. He ducked lower just in time to block it with his shoulder, but the strike still launched him off his feet. He flew into the wall beside him, then slipped down to the floor—just in time to avoid one of the wraith’s wild punches.

No time to panic. He jumped to his feet, then unleashed a Winged Kick. It blasted him up just enough that he could grab onto the wraith’s raised arm.

How’re you gonna destroy it without a Shattered Palm? Gray demanded, her voice crawling with nervousness. She backed away from the wraith, spreading her wings slightly. You needed a bigger hit last time!

Pirin figured more hits should do the trick. Besides, he needed to practice using multiple Winged Fists in a row.

Before the wraith could slam its arm down, he scrambled up to its shoulder. Then, he drove his sword into its back, much like he had down with the other wraith. It slammed its hands into the ground, and Gray fluttered backwards to avoid it. For a moment, the rocks of its back spread apart even further, but they sealed as soon as the beast lifted its arms.

“Gray!” Pirin called. “Make it swipe at you again!”

How? Oh, just stand in front of it? It’s looking at me, Pirin! It’s looking at me!

Again, the wraith raised its arms, preparing to strike. Pirin held on as tight as he could, cycling to prepare a chain of Winged Fists.

Then the wraith slammed its arms down, and Pirin unleashed his barrage into the weakened, exposed back. Blast after blast of wind ripped through its form, scattering rocks and scrambling its interior, until it finally fell into four small bits.

Pirin fell hard onto his back. Three out of the four wraith quarters disintegrated, but the last one swirled, forming back into the shape of a gorilla. Pirin reached for his sword, which had fallen to the floor, but before he could finish the job, Myraden’s spear swiped back and forth through the remains of the beast, dispelling it entirely.

She walked through the rising dust, twirling her spearhead. Pirin pushed himself up to a sitting position, then said, “Well, that was sure a fun way to wake up, wasn’t it?”