Pirin bent down gingerly and picked up the little fox. It was barely moving now, and after a few seconds it started to shiver. The crystals shifted up and down in his hands, threatening to scratch him. They never did. Its coat was nowhere near as soft as fur or feathers, but it was still pleasant to touch. Almost like felt.

He looked at Gray, then said, “It must be recovering…”

Recovering? she asked.

“I made a lot of changes. But I’m also not very clear on the anatomy of wraiths, if they even have an anatomy that can be studied.” He opened up his haversack. “I’ve never seen a calm wraith before, and this might be the only domesticated one in the world. We can’t just leave it here.”

Yes we could, Gray said.

“Jealous? I promise, I’d never replace you with a different Familiar. I don’t think I even can, having seen what we’ve seen.”

Not jealous. Nervous. Would you take a shark as a pet because it’s not trying to kill you at the moment?

“This is different,” Pirin said, looking down at the sleeping fox-wraith in his arms. Eyelids of soft crystal dust covered its eyes, but it still had a tame face. “We physically changed it, but we also altered its mind and soul and made it peaceful.”

I…I suppose. But if it mauls you in your sleep, you better not have your Reyad active. I’m not dying because you thought a little salt fox was the cutest thing in the world. She let out a few chirps that almost had the consistency of a laugh. Who am I kidding? I would definitely try to save you from it.

“I won’t let it hurt us,” Pirin said. Then he slid the fox as best as he could into the haversack. There wasn’t enough room for its entire form, so he just slid its body in and let its head hang out—it might not have needed to breathe, but just in case, it could.

“Now…” he continued, putting his hands on his hips and surveying the tunnel. “We need to keep moving. That took us long enough, and if there’s anything else standing in our way, we might run out of time.”

Oh, there better not be any more wraiths. I’m done with those… She chirped softly. Wait. We have a time limit?

“Well, when Alyus has the Featherflight ready, he won’t be able to linger around too long. Someone will spot him sooner than later.” Pirin brushed the dust off his arms. “But it should be faster from here. The good news is, a big wraith like that was probably powerful enough to gobble up any of the little-er ones that might have formed.”

So either there will either be something bigger, or something nastier. Wonderful…

Pirin patted Gray’s side. “You can turn back if you want.” He set off down the tunnel.

No way am I letting you roam these tunnels on your own! You’ll get yourself killed without me. Maybe fall down another chasm, or eaten by a Rustler! She hopped along behind him to catch up. This isn’t in any way because I don’t want to be left alone in a dark tunnel, potentially a meal for something myself. Absolutely no way.

Pirin chuckled under his breath, but kept walking. It had been at least a day without sleep, now, and his limbs were dragging. But he’d had sleepless nights in the years before, and he could survive sleepless nights—or days, or whatever it was now—again.

As he walked, he continued to cycle Essence. The environment was so rich in the Eane that, even if he couldn’t see it, he could feel the effectiveness of his Essence gathering techniques. It was simple: stronger fields of the Eane meant he could purify it into Essence faster.

But, after a few cycles, passing the Essence between him and Gray in a massive loop, he stopped.

The wraith had been powerful, and the weight of its spirit had nearly crushed him—even if its soul left something to be desired. If he hadn’t had as many foundation Timbers as he did, it would have snuffed out his core entirely, maybe erasing him from existence.

Or, at least, his spirit would have been severely damaged.

“We need to make more foundation Timbers,” he told Gray. “Or we’re not going to make it much further.”

Can you do that as you walk? Or do I have to carry you?

“I should be good, Gray.”

Maybe you will have to carry me! Ha ha.

Pirin raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “Was that—”

A joke! That’s how it works, right?

“We can work on your sense of humour later,” he said. Then, he mumbled, “Not that I have much ability to teach in that department.” He took a few more steps, then said, “I’m gonna start now, alright? We’ll have to get you caught up, and we’ll see how many I can make before we reach this place’s center—or something else that can kill us with just its presence…”

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For the next few minutes, Pirin helped Gray catch up to him with her foundation Timbers. They only needed one Timber more for her to catch up, and he provided most of the force in their cycling loop, making the process quick—especially since Pirin already had formed one Timber to base it off of.

Once their Timbers were even again, he pulled the sparrow Path manual out of his haversack and flipped back to the section on the foundation Timbers.

It didn’t really provide anything new, anything he could decipher, or anything he didn’t know—except for a small section about Bloodline Talents.

It read: The quality of Timbers can be improved during the formation process if one tries to use a bloodline ability while forming the Timbers. The process will take your mind off the Timber formation, but all Bloodline abilities can (and should) be fuelled by aspect-less Essence. Some will get mixed into your Essence amalgam naturally, and a shred of pure Essence will improve the quality of the Timber.

“Improved quality?” Pirin asked aloud. Then he rolled his eyes. As if the Path manual could respond.

Can you read it to me? Gray asked.

Pirin did.

Alright, yeah, I was right. That didn’t make any sense to me. Continue on. Or…you could try to explain to me why that works…

Pirin shrugged. “I don’t really know, myself. I’d imagine the pure Essence of any bloodline technique has a quality to it that helps make things more…perfect. If that makes any sense?”

Not really. Besides, I’ve seen Myraden use her spear, and half the time, the Essence she puts into it is red Bloodhorn Essence.

“The Manual said ‘can be fuelled by pure Essence,’ ” Pirin clarified. “Not ‘has to be’. Myraden probably finds it easier just to make Bloodhorn Essence. It’s not like she has a Shattered Palm that requires pure Essence.”

So you could use Gnatsnapper Essence to fuel your Memory— Gray cut herself off. Wait a minute. We’re getting way too distracted! We need to get to forming Timbers!

“That’s the attitude,” Pirin said.

He couldn’t shut his eyes while he worked. Any moment, there might be a hole in the ground, or a spike of crystal poised to impale him. But he could split his mind between multiple tasks.

While he walked, he let the feather-forming, Timber-forming cycling pattern run in the background of his consciousness. Essence flowed through his body. With his eyes, he paid attention to where he and Gray were walking. And with the rest of the focus he had left, he activated the Memory Chain.

He focussed on his sword, again, using it to guide the Memory Chain. Then, he pulled his Essence away slowly, scrolling through the memories of Kalénier until he found memories he hadn’t reviewed before.

First, a snippet: walking through a warm springtime forest with the man. Gray walked with them back then, too, trailing a few steps behind, but this was before she had a Reyad. She couldn’t understand any of the conversation.

Kalénier ordered Pirin, “Please, no more calling me ‘sir’. ‘Kal’ will do just fine.”

“Will you stop calling me ‘your majesty’?” the Pirin of the memory asked.

“Absolutely not!” Kalénier—or Kal—exclaimed. “As an honourary Sirdian, and Sword of the Chancellor, it would be abhorrent to show such disrespect.”

“Then you’re still getting called ‘sir’.”

That, thankfully, had been enough to earn a laugh from both of them.

“Come on,” Kal said. “We still have a long way to the Sirdian border, and you need plenty of training before then. At noon, we’re practicing more of your basic seven-direction sword swipes.”

“Yes, sir!”

Pirin let the memories shift through a little faster, skimming over memories of sword training and walking. He placed these events sometime after the crossing from Kerstel to the Elven Continent, but before he had reached Sirdia.

But Pirin needed to know more about the sword. He needed to know why it was special, and what his connection with it was. Most importantly, how he even got it from Kal, and what had happened to the not-mercenary honourary-elf.

He skimmed forward through the memories faster and faster, passing by weeks of walking, until they arrived at No Man’s Land. They had crossed the barren stretch and continued onwards to Northvel—another few weeks of walking. Every night, he had stopped to practice with Kal, learning to use a thin, rusty fisherman’s warsword.

That smaller sword wasn’t important, so he didn’t pay attention to it. Only Kal’s sword, which he held in the present.

When Pirin had managed to gain the upper hand in a sparring match, Kal let him hold and take the larger sword. They sat around a campfire—Pirin, Kal, and Gray, and another blurry figure that the Memory Chain deemed unimportant to the memory.

“This is Nynhar,” Kal had said. The finest elven smiths in Sirdia forged it, and the artificers put a little ‘something special’ in its tang—think of that as the core of a sword—to better harness Reign. They have high hopes for me as a swordsman, but there are only a few mortal men who can manifest Reign, and it certainly isn’t me!”

Pirin’s heart raced faster—both presently and in the memory.

“Chancellor Ivescent gave it to me as a gift for saving his life,” Kal continued as he passed the sword to Pirin.

There was nothing special about it. It was a little heavier, and it was clean. The blade was silver, and the tip curved gracefully, but otherwise, it didn’t look any different from the other longswords Pirin had seen. Even the crossguard was plain.

Pirin passed the sword back to Kal.

“When I die, Pirin,” Kal said, “this sword will go to you—as all masters’ swords do. And certainly, I’ll be gone before you.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Pirin had said. He had already lost Mr. Regos, and there was no reason for his new teacher to die as well.

“Well, now you’ve doomed me,” Kal said, patting Pirin on the back. “Don’t worry. I would be happy to sacrifice my life to see the Elven Continent reunited.”

Pirin nodded somberly, and in the memory, he had continued to make small talk. But a chirp from outside cut through the Chain.

He blinked quickly, bringing all his focus to the present—and to his surroundings—cutting off the technique, but not the Timber-setting cycling loop.

Gray had gotten a few paces ahead of him in the culvert, but now, she had stopped. She held out her wing.

As soon as Pirin caught up, he saw why: the ground ahead of them ended. They stood at the edge of a cliff.