Myrrir kept his head down all throughout Karmion’s speech—until the beam of light illuminated Vayra and Glade, and Karmion drew everyone’s attention to them.
They were right there, and old instincts took over. He wanted to jump to his feet and sprint through the crowd, then snatch up the Mediator and proclaim that he’d caught her. It wouldn’t be so easy, he knew, but his chance was there.
Tye wasn’t even present to hold him back…
Not present. Not present. As if somehow, his old first officer would return from beyond the grave…
No, Myrrir restrained himself.
Not only would it be foolish and suicidal, but he doubted it would earn him any favour with his own father.
He needed to prove that he was worthy of godhood and worthy of his father’s praise once more. He needed to prove he was strong.
He stared up at Nilsenir’s tower, a spike of Stellacovan sandstone and red shingle eaves. He couldn’t sense his father, but he knew Nilsenir was in there somewhere, watching disapprovingly.
Well, time to prove him wrong.
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Larra snarled when the beam of light shone over Vayra and the Order…Disciple? Adept? Whatever he was now.
She raised her hand and clasped the pendant hanging from her neck—the sacred treasure, the tooth of her friend, Gnasher, and all that remained of him after the Mediator had her way with him.
It still functioned, it still temporarily raised the quality of her Arcara, but it was missing something—someone.
Besides, she fully expected advancements from most of the other competitors. If they weren’t all admirals by the end of the tournament, they weren’t trying hard enough, and they’d be eliminated before long.
She nearly crushed the flag—a standard the the Elderworld crest on it—in her grip. She’d win the tournament and prove her power again.
She’d avenge her friend…
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Vayra tried to sleep that night. She tried her best, and she kept promising Phasoné that she was trying, but nothing came of it. She laid on the hammock, staring up at the ceiling and hoping that she’d just pass out.
Her arms quivered. She wasn’t ready.
After a few hours of lying still and not moving, Phasoné said, ‘Alright, alright, let’s do something, then. You think you’re unready? Then let’s train. If you’re gonna keep me awake, then we better get something out of it.’
“I don’t—”
‘I can read your mind. Yes, you do. Besides, Adair has the midnight zoomies, and he’s running around my feet.’
Vayra sighed, then mentally conceded. “Yes, alright.” Rolling out of the hammock, she yawned, then flexed her mechanical hand. She’d gotten better at using it, and moving it was second nature. But activating the runestone wasn’t, not yet. And especially using it in a chain of attacks?
If she was going to improve anywhere, that would be where.
Nathariel was asleep in the common room, and Glade in his own chamber, but Vayra had just enough room in the little hammock closet to practice. As long as she didn’t hit anything or make too much noise, she wouldn’t wake up her companions.
She unclipped the hammock from the wall and folded it up, then took a fighting stance. She practiced the unarmed strikes that Nathariel had drilled into her, mocking a pattern of Starlight Palms and kicks.
Every three strikes, she activated the disruption runestone. A pulse of invisible energy radiated off it, cancelling all techniques and disrupting Arcara circulation in an arc away from her. But she had to let the Arcara filter out of the runes and fade away before she could use it again, or she might overload the runstone and damage it.
Still, whenever she used the runestone, she still hesitated for a second or two. She had to direct the energy into it through a separate starsteel channel that she hadn’t used often. When it reached the runestone, she had to apply enough willpower to fill all the cracks and activate the pattern, then direct it away from herself so she didn’t disrupt her own Arcara cycles.
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She didn’t know how long she practiced. The cramped little room only had a single window, but a chunk of the Shattered Moon’s crust floated overhead at the moment, blocking the starlight and the planetlight from the orange gas giant. (Vayra had called it moonlight once, which Phasoné had corrected—they were on the moon right now, so it was planetlight. They were distinct concepts when it came to elemental authority, though there were no Gods of Planetlight.)
‘Thank you for catching yourself,’ Phasoné commented lightheartedly.
“Welcome,” Vayra whispered.
They practiced for a few more minutes after that. Vayra wouldn’t call her ability to use the runestone perfect, and it’d take more practice, but she cut down on the hesitation.
She sat down and leaned against the wall, then looked up out the window. Nothing but a dark, empty sky. Not even a star or two. It had to be one of the worst views.
‘That’s your biggest concern? The view?’
“Just a thought…” Vayra rolled her eyes. “Far from my biggest concern. Just trying to relax.” She shut her eyes and pulled herself into the corespace with Phasoné. She walked through the garden of silver-green plants and approached the little cabin at the center, then leaned against the wall.
Phasoné sat cross-legged on one of the flagstone walkways outside the cabin’s entrance, still wearing her starry void dress. “Came here to bug me in person?” she teased. Adair ran laps around her, only pausing every few seconds to stop and rub against her knees.
When the kitten saw Vayra, though, he turned and scampered toward her. He’d grown since she’d first found him in her haversack, and was about half the size of a full-grown cat now. Reaching down, she ran a hand along his orange fur and scratched him between the ears.
“We need to do something with the soul kitten,” Vayra muttered. She picked Adair up and cradled him, then took a few steps closer to Phasoné. “Not that I mind feeding him elixirs and spirit water, but…he can’t stay inside the corespace this whole time.”
Phasoné chuckled. “You need to find a use for him. You’re turning him into a spirit beast, and I’m sure you could use some of his abilities.”
“Abilities?”
“If you form a bond with an animal, or a spirit beast of any sort, you can take some of their traits,” Phasoné said. “Nathariel might know more, and he might be able to help, but the principle is the same. Complete the connection, cultivate the right traits, and you can take some of them for yourself.”
Vayra sat down beside Phasoné and let Adair crawl between their laps. “So…I get claws? Cat ears? Don’t see how that helps.”
Phasoné snorted. “You might display a few physical traits from time to time, but that’s not the benefit.” She waved a twig in front of Adair’s face, and without a second thought, he pounced on it. Phasoné held it out over the trail, wiggling it side-to-side, and Adair chased after it, matching each move perfectly. He changed directions without any delay.
“Cats are some of nature’s best adapted hunters,” Phasoné pointed out. “Their innate reaction speeds can match that of a fully-powered Admiral, and their reflexes are near perfect. They can sense and smell fear, and their agility and maneuverability isn’t anything to shrug at.”
“I thought you didn’t like cats,” Vayra muttered as Phasoné dragged the stick along the ground. Adair pounced on it every time, and the goddess let out a few gasps of delight.
“I…never said that,” Phasoné replied. “I was…uh, well, I wanted something more exotic.” She scratched the back of her head with her free hand. “But I’ve come around. With your innate speed, and your glass-cannon build…well, a cat as a bonded companion wouldn’t be the worst. And he’s cute.”
“How do I do that?” Vayra asked. “How do I form a proper bond with it?”
“You’re halfway there. By feeding and playing with him, he’s grown attached to you. As he gains more sapience, he’ll develop a soul, and it’ll already be naturally disposed to your soul—with you having practically raised him. As long as your channels can pass Arcara between you and the cat, you should be able to draw on some of his characteristics.”
So just more time, then.
Still, for good measure, Vayra performed a spiritual scan of Adair. He hadn’t formed a core yet, but thin, wispy Essence channels ran through his body, and with each tiny breath he took, he cycled the dregs of mana in his body in a rudimentary pattern. It was progress. She ran a hand down his back, and naturally, a little wisp of grey matter near the base of his neck gravitated toward her hand.
His soul. It was a basic cat’s soul, with just a little bit more to it, but the more he cycled, the more alike it would be to a human’s. A wisp of Arcara passed between her hand and his body, and for a brief moment, her fingers twitched, reacting instinctively to the feel of the fur.
“I…see,” she said.
Adair flopped onto his side and yawned, and let out an almost human noise.
“He’s getting tired, too,” Phasoné commented. “Are you tired yet? Or a little calmer?”
“A little bit.” Vayra picked up Adair off the flagstones and placed him in her lap—that way, if he fell asleep, he’d be easier to move. “I can guarantee everyone else will be advancing during the tournament, and if we don’t keep pushing toward Commodore, I don’t know if we can keep up.”
“Remember,” Phasoné commented, “we’re meant to punch up against higher-stage opponents.”
“And there’ll be plenty of those, I imagine,” Vayra muttered. “How many people are going to do what Glade did and ruin their channels just to push a little higher? It’ll give them a better chance at victory?”
“Quite a few…”
“We need to advance too, then. What do we need to do to reach Commodore?”
“The Flag Officer stages—Captain to Grand Admiral—all require a revelation, an insight of sorts, to reach the next stage. Assuming, of course, you’ve accumulated enough Arcara to complete the advancement.”
Vayra nodded. She placed a hand on Adair’s back and breathed in time with him, hoping to calm herself down a little bit more. It had worked in the past, and she’d slept in worse places than this. “What’s the Commodore insight?”
“Purpose of the Soul,” Phasoné said. “Captain is purpose of your Path, which is inherently spiritual, but your Commodore revelation is harder to hit. It’s harder to explain. It’s the…reason for your willpower, what keeps you moving forward. It’s deeper in some places than the Path revelation and shallower in others.”
Vayra sighed. The Path revelation was hard enough. Now, she needed the insight for an even more difficult revelation. Wonderful, just wonderful.
“There’s a reason so many God-heirs get stuck at Captain,” Phasoné continued. “Only around an eighth of the God-heirs who make it to Captain ever make it to Commodore.”
Vayra shut her eyes and nodded. “Thanks for the heads up.”
She’d expected that conversation to stress her out further, make it even harder to rest, but a calm settled on her.
There was a route forward, and that was exactly what she needed. She knew how to push for advancement.
“Right, then, Phas,” Vayra said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Bright and early.”