Pirin didn’t expect to wake up. Any moment, the Red Hand would stagger out of the shrine and stumble across him, and it would have all been over. As far as Pirin could tell, the Hand just wanted to kill him.

But still, he opened his eyes. First…he was in a rowboat, rocking back and forth. Then, in the scaly arms of a dragonfolk—Brealtod? His mask hung loose in front of his face, the runes deactivated and cold. After a few minutes, he was laying in the cargo hold of an airship, dropped unceremoniously in the makeshift nest for Gray.

Gray! Where was she? Pirin tried to snap himself awake, but he couldn’t clear the exhaustion from his mind.

Brealtod and Alyus both returned a few minutes later with a bundle of grayish-brown feathers between them, and working together, they managed to hoist the unconscious gnatsnapper back into her nest.

They sealed the cargo hold shut, leaving Pirin in near darkness. A few moments later, the airship rose. Pirin, clinging to consciousness, rose to his feet. At the very stern of the cargo hold, there was a gap in the ship’s outer envelope. He crept towards it and peered outside.

The Featherflight rose out of the quarry, floating up and away from its hiding place. He couldn’t tell where they were heading next, only that they were moving. They passed high over the valley, and over the shrine entrance.

The three shadowy figures sprinted out of the tunnels, followed by a puff of dust and small stones. The satyr cut through the air with the claws of Essence again, nearly slicing open the hull of the Featherflight, but he was too far away.

Pirin rubbed his head. He’d escaped again, but how many times would he have to do this? He needed something more.

He needed to win.

For the next few hours, he bumbled around the hold, sitting on the cargo elevator or the lattice platform beside it, slipping in and out of consciousness between his check-ups on Gray. She was recovering. When he looked into her mind, he felt her firmly in control—even as the Ichor and powerful core reshaped her mind into that of an intelligent being.

Once Pirin was sure he was conscious—for good—he climbed out of the cargo hold and stumbled through the ship, back along the axial catwalk, and to the crew quarters and gondola.

In the crew quarters, he found Alyus, who handed him a bowl of reheated stew and told him to sit by the stove to warm up. Instead, Pirin followed the ostal man down to the gondola, holding the warm bowl in his hands.

“Where were you?” Pirin asked. “You weren’t in the boat.”

“Woulda been foolish to linger around when the Hand showed up, wouldn’t it? Went to hide in the woods as soon as those wizards showed themselves. You payed a smuggler, so you got a smuggler’s brains. But when you and your ‘snapper fell outta the sky, we had to help.”

As far as Pirin could tell, they were sailing west. “Where are we going?”

Brealtod hissed warmly. Either Alyus translated, or ignored his first mate altogether. He said, “Two days. We’ll head to Vēl Tallomn—it’s a big port, and we won’t stand out too much. The Aerdians won’t catch on if we only linger a few days.”

“And after that?”

“You’d better have a destination in mind by then, or we’ll be drifting again—and I’ll charge you a silver piece for each day we’re drifting.”

Pirin nodded. He looked out the gondola’s windows. He’d been asleep longer than he thought. The sun was already going down, and the moons were rising.

“You should sleep, elfy,” said Alyus. “Get yourself a proper rest, recover a little, and in the morning, we can talk more. There’s not much more to say, though.”

After Pirin finished his stew, he headed up to the crew quarters, preparing to flop down on a cot and sleep away his weariness, when his body began to sting once more. It started with his leg, then his hand, and then his chest.

So he tended to the minor wounds he’d sustained. He pulled the bandages out of his haversack and wrapped his wounds—at least, now, he wouldn’t leak blood all over the bedsheets. He’d have to scrounge for the best healing herbs in the coming days…if his faint memories let him manage such a thing. He was supposed to know the good herbs, right?

He rested properly this time, not even worrying about maintaining a proper cycling technique, and the night passed in an instant.

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In the morning, everything seemed much clearer and much closer. Neither of the smugglers had summoned him to watch the ship overnight—whether it was out of pity or because they didn’t think he could handle it, he didn’t know.

That morning, he helped wherever he could, and both of the smugglers seemed thankful for it. He hoped, at least.

At noon, they navigated into a steady stream of wind, and they rose high above the hilly forests below. There was nothing for any of them to do, so Pirin retreated back to the cargo hold to check on Gray.

She slept soundly in her nest, and there was no need to wake her. He’d done enough, lately, and she just needed to rest.

But, instead of leaving, he sat on the cargo elevator beside her, reading the notes scrawled down in the sparrow Path manual. There was a passage that he had glossed over before that now seemed much more relevant.

Before forming the Reyad, one may be able to lessen harmful after-effects by drawing all of one’s Essence in towards the core and holding it in place for three to five minutes. This will allow the channels and spirit to rest and become more elastic again.

Every time Pirin put on the mask and activated the runes, he would effectively be forming a Reyad, if what Hir Venias said was correct. But…if Pirin could lessen the blow and get more used to it, then it wouldn’t sap so much of his strength every time.

For good measure, he kept reading the wizard’s hastily-scrawled notes.

If the wizard was aware of their power before forming the Reyad, they will likely have been treated to many infusions of Essence, elixirs, and for some, the benefits of a proper noble house or powerful wizard’s family. The moment they form a Reyad, they will be capable of advancing beyond the Kindling stage.

He had taken quite a few Essence infusions via the manabulbs. He traced the Essence through his body with his mind, down to his core, and examined it. The sphere of ash and orange lines was bulging, almost bursting at the seams. He was ready to advance.

Pirin shut his eyes and drew all his Essence back to his core, preparing to soften the blow of integrating Ichor into his blood. For five minutes, he sat still, holding his Essence close to his core. Not all of it could (or would) fit back into the cracked, ember-y orb, but he had to try.

Once his Essence channels had loosened, he slid the mask onto his face, and he matched his cycling with the flow of his blood and heart.

The process began again. Golden light streamed out of his eyes, and searing pain ran all across his body. He fell onto his knees, then to his side, barely keeping control of his breaths. Finally, the light faded. There were no visions or memories, only a conscious mind and a body that barely responded to him.

But barely responding was better than needing all of his willpower just to move a few muscles. He stood up shakily and glanced around the hold through the eye slit of his mask. Even though Gray was asleep, he could still feel her core, and he could still pass Essence to her when he cycled, stabilizing his magic and fueling his Essence.

The more he cycled it back and forth between his own body and Gray’s, the more he felt the Essence changing. He couldn’t see it in the air, save for a few sparks, but when it returned to his body, it had turned from a faint shade of blue to a brown. He would have cheered if he’d had the energy to. He’d managed to craft his normal Essence into Gnatsnapper Essence.

It was…nine tenths of a Reyad. He just needed to make it permanent, but that was a problem for later.

Right now, the Essence had nowhere to go. His core was so full that he couldn’t call the arcane energy back in.

Well, he had his mask up and functional, and he had his Essence flowing in a clean loop between him and Gray. There was no better time to advance.

But he also didn’t know how to advance to the Spark stage. He’d never seen a wizard advance to a new stage, let alone done it himself. He consulted the Path manual again, but there were no explanations of how to advance his core—as if everyone already knew how to do it.

Pirin shut his eyes and began to experiment. He tried clumping his Essence together all around the core and compressing it, guiding it with his breaths and mind.

That only took him so far. The core compressed, but the moment he stopped pushing, his Essence flared back out into his channels, so fast that the air around him rippled and a slight boom rattled through the airship’s cargo hold.

He tried twice more, but he couldn’t convince his core to change, or do anything, for that matter.

Before he could try anything else, heavy bootsteps thudded behind him. Brealtod hissed and Alyus gasped. “What are you doing back here, elfy? You’d best be decent, ‘cause we’re—”

Brealtod hissed and clicked his teeth again, speaking in his dragonfolk language quickly and hurriedly.

“Oh, he’s advancing? And how’d you figure that one?”

Again, Brealtod let out a series of unintelligible noises.

“I see,” Alyus muttered. “So he’s just not doing a very good job of it. Well, elfy, Brealtod says you’re not doing a very good job at it. Can you even hear me?”

Pirin nodded. He kept trying to push his core together, cramming the Essence inward, and kept failing. Another faint boom rattled around the cargo hold.

“Stop that,” Alyus snapped. “You already failed three times—no need to tear my ship apart with a fourth.”

“A little…help, then?” Pirin grunted.

“Oh, don’t come running to me! I’ve never seen anyone advance a stage either, not even my own daughter.”

Brealtod provided another speech of hisses.

“No one’s stopping you from telling him what you know, you big oaf,” Alyus groaned. “Brealtod knew a wizard back in his home village, see? He’ll give you some help, if you’ll listen.”

“I don’t…understand what he’s saying,” Pirin grunted through clenched teeth. “You’ll have to translate.”

“Fine, elfy, I can do that.” Alyus sighed. “Ready?”