The weather changed once more as they trekked back down the mountain. The harsh, bitter chill in the air faded to a more pleasant breeze. The iced over ground slowly gave way to green. The sounds of nature once again reached Nicos' ears; birds and insects, crunching leaves, and the babbling rush of water.

Eurya led the party to the nearby river, winding its way down the mountain. Crystal clear and freezing cold, all three of them refilled their water-skins and took a few minutes to wash themselves. The boy's clothes were disgusting, caked with blood and sweat that needed to be scrubbed clean. He wasted no time shrugging off his ashthrower and boots, before diving into the river, yanking off the rest of his clothes in the process. His companions did not follow suit, though they did briefly scrub themselves clean.

Nicos was certain that, for Eurya at least, the act was completely optional. He had never seen dirt so much as mar her skin, not that it would be easy to tell against that pitch black tone, but even blood seemed to slide off her like it was oil. Nothing left a mark on her skin without her permission.

The Keeper was much the same, merely dunking his head into the river for a few moments, and letting the water slake down his neck. Droplets ran across his crimson cloak, staining themselves red before drizzling along the ground. Nicos eyed the man's clothing with a dubious eye. Its vivid color did not fade a fraction.

His gaze was met with a cheeky grin. "I first started wearing the red because of her," the Keeper explained, jabbing his thumb behind himself, towards Eurya. She sniffed disdainfully as he continued, "It's damn near impossible to travel with her and not get a little red all over yourself." He nodded at Nicos' trousers, held tight in his hand and floating on the surface of the river. "As you've discovered."

Nicos crinkled his nose. "Its not just the blood. I never got a chance to wash myself once we entered Bastion. I think I carried half of the desert with me in my boots." He turned towards Eurya. "Can you teach me how you stay so clean?"

"As if I'd allow things to dirty my skin," she replied simply.

Nicos rolled his eyes, accepting the non-answer, and took another dunk in the water. It was chillingly cold, but he found that he'd become used to such a thing. It was a stark departure to the overwhelmingly dry heat of the desert, or even the Red Barrens. It was an odd feeling, being submerged like this. The boy's father had taught him to swim at a watering hole inside Farathun's territory. The lesson had been brief but pointed, and Nicos could paddle well enough. He'd never had a chance to experience such a thing again, however. Even at the Gravel Sea, the water had barely touched him. This was a new feeling. Unique and... pleasant. He struggled to reconcile it with the fierce energy of the storm god.

The boy planted his sword in the riverbed, digging deep, and allowed himself to sink beneath the surface. He touched down, cross-legged, on the river floor, and closed his eyes. The water rushed past him, tugging him weakly along, but he kept himself still and centered. He drank in the feeling of the cold, the moisture, the flowing water, the feel of it as it pulled at him. It was strength and stillness, forceful and gentle. The water's nature was—and he couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips at the thought—fluid.

A Memory twigged in his mind; a kata, copied in combat. The dance of a river god, of a distant land. Created as a form of worship, it was never meant for combat, but some instinct had the boy drawing out his sword. He rose, blade in hand, and fell into the forms. Not once did he notice the water rising with him. He stayed submerged, as he slowly executed each step, each blow, each idealized movement.

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It had been created to mimic the journey of the river, from its source to its end. From gentle streams to twirling eddies to vicious rapids and everything in-between. Nicos danced, and the river danced with him. His eyes were closed, oblivious, until the final strike. The river met the ocean, the domain of something infinitely its greater, with bitter recognition and overwhelming wrath. The last blow, a deep cut, surging forward as he opened his eyes and—

The river ripped free of its bounds and roared forth down the mountainside! Trees shook and shattered and fell as the unstoppable force of nature ripped their roots free of the earth. The ground shook at the impact, and the mountain trembled at the sudden change. Nicos' eyes widened in alarm at the devastation he had just unleashed, and his focus broke. He was lost in the rush, dragged along by the current he had created, until a steady arm plucked him free of the surge.

Slitted eyes stared down at him, and fangs peeked past an arrogant smirk. "Such potential," his teacher hissed proudly, even as she flung him free of the danger. The boy landed in an unceremonious heap, and glanced up to watch his teachers' actions.

The Keeper was standing still, his arms raised and his lips moving. He mouthed something, a few short words lost in the riotous noise of crashing water, and the river shivered, then slowed. Another gesture had the water withdrawing from the mountainside, slinking back within its bounds like a chastised pet.

Eurya was less subtle. She drummed her fingers impatiently against the dagger in her waistband, as she glared at the shattered riverbed. Her eyes roamed the winding, broken path, and Nicos could physically identify when she disregarded it. With a harsh jerk of her hand, the ground split apart like it was firewood; a cut appeared, spanning the length of the mountain, as wide as ten men and perfectly straight. Trees, stones, and soil all vanished in a puff of dust, followed by an ear-shattering crack that shook the mountain to its roots. The river followed, dribbling obediently down its new path.

Her companion eyed her with amusement. "I'm certain that the river did not flow that way before."

She shrugged carelessly. "It does now. Not like there's anyone around here who cares."

The Keeper conceded the point with his own shrug, then turned to Nicos, eyes glittering.

"That was certainly something."

Nicos could only stare blankly. His eyes fell to his sword, and the hands that wielded it. "I don't...." He struggled to form words. "What did I do?"

"Casting," the Keeper replied. "Proper casting. Not that pale imitation that any fool can learn."

"I don't even understand how I did that," Nicos replied helplessly. "I was just practicing that kata Teacher showed me. The dance—"

"Of a river god," Eurya finished. "One that craved to be more. Did you think the strongest desire of a god was so easily put to rest? That its Memory carried no power?"

It was a question that needed no answer. Nicos had given it no thought at all. "I did not realize those Memories existed," he said. "Not until I was in the moment."

"And therein lies the danger of drawing on another's technique," Eurya said pointedly. "You never know what you'll encounter. But the results speak for themselves, I think." She nodded to broken tree-line. "Quite a blow, should you master it."

Nicos shook his head. "The kata was not meant for combat. You told me that. I don't understand."

"Think, Nicos!" Eurya said sharply. "The kata was created to honor a river god. Its Memory resides in those forms; it was designed explicitly for that purpose. Its desires, the burning passion to be more, screams out with each stroke of your blade."

NIcos glanced from her, to the nearby stream. "It roused the river? But there is no god here." He hoped. He didn't want to consider the consequences he might face for his impromptu landscaping.

"It doesn't matter," Eurya replied. "Memory, Nicos. The river god's plea was heard, given life and power by your Memory, and the river responded in kind."

"I did not intend to cast," Nicos explained helplessly.

"Actions matter, boy. You cast that Memory out into the world with each swing of your sword," Eurya said. "Intention had nothing to do with it."

"Learn from this, Nicos," the Keeper advised. "There is power in every action. The past constantly affects the present. You walk ever among the shadows of giants; tread carefully."