The tanner, who he presumed owned the shop that he had dropped into was still screaming at them as they left, it was an odd experience going from not understanding anything he or the girl were saying to understanding every word as they came of their lips. Though he couldn’t say he was thrilled with almost dying, again. Levan was still massaging his neck as he and Renelle walked down the cobbled street of wherever the Poortgang had dropped them off at. Renelle was walking briskly, her fists were clenched and she continued to shoot stabbing glares at him as they walked. Levan could feel the frustration and anger that was building inside her steam off as they walked the cramped street.
I need answers, and Renelle better give them or she can find a new Xilaskar for all I care. This whole thing is just a mess, where in the hell even are we? Levan thought as they walked down the road, at least the girl in the shop he dropped into was kind enough to point them in the direction of the nearest inn. He relished in the idea of finally sleeping in a bed after weeks of nothing but bedrolls on hard earth, stone, and sand.
As they walked Renelle shoved him into a dark alley, the rats skittering away as their rushed entrance startled them away from a piece of meat that lay on the dirty and damp cobblestone road. Renelle shoved him against the jagged stone wall, a rock punching into his back sending a sharp pain up his spine. Part of the wall crumbling onto his shoulder as Renelle’s fist landed into it, her hand covered in a red wisp, while her other hand was gripping his shirt tightly, “What the hell is wrong with you?” she spit out.
Levan’s heart began to race, “What?”
“Why would you do something so unbelievably stupid?” Renelle continued, “Do you have any idea of what you’ve just done?”
Levan stammered, “No, what? What are you talking about?”
Renelle sighed, “The Poortgang, you fool. How could you act so brazenly in a place I specifically told you not to do anything in?”
“It was either that or die to whatever that thing was!” Levan shot back.
“I had it under control.” Renelle replied.
That broke him, it was so obvious to him now, “No, Renelle, you didn’t. You had us following you around without question, because we trusted that you knew what you were doing. Clearly you don’t. You couldn’t even get that stupid thing open in time, I had to do it for you! And what’s worse than all of that is I have had no time to deal with all of this stuff you’ve been dumping on me, or all of the things that have happened. And you can’t even give me a straight answer for any of my questions! Just admit you have no fucking clue what you’re doing.”
The pain was hot where Renelle’s hand connected with his cheek, her eyes were burning with anger, and yet also hung with exhaustion. “We will discuss this later. For now I think it’s best we get some rest.” Levan massaged his cheek, nodding in silent agreement.
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The food wasn’t anything special, a simple broth with carrots, potatoes, and onions with some venison, or at least he hopped it was venison. Levan was still impressed with the inn that they had gone to, it was larger than any of the buildings in Zoidiv, although wherever they were was clearly some city of import. The infrastructure was amazing, yet it all seemed to tie back some overlooking spires that sat high above all the other buildings.
Levan sat at the small table in his room, using the soft bread to scrap up the remainder of the stew in his bowl, taking a large gulp of wine as he did. Though he immediately regretted it, the savory flavors of the stew and bread did not mesh well with the sweetness of the wine. Renelle, had left as soon as they got settled in their room. When he had gone down earlier to get some food he had asked the barkeep but his answer was as unhelpful as Renelle’s answers were. He had spent some time down in the tavern, letting the music and chatter of patrons drown out his thoughts, but now that he was back in his room all he could do was sit on his thoughts.
The thought of Renelle made his skin red, she has been nothing but distant and stubborn. Her aggression from earlier in the day played back through his mind, the magic that she had conjured around her fist as she slammed it into the wall next to his head. She would’ve killed me if I wasn’t so important, Levan thought, would she have the stomach for it though? She hasn’t raised a finger to help defend us, Hyrum does all the work in keeping us safe.
Hyrum. Levan hadn’t even though about the Bidualsham until now. He was missing, so was Ibilsin. Did they make it through the Poortgang? Did we leave them there to die? The thoughts raced through his head, only the worst possible scenarios would come to mind. They were dead, laying on that cold stone floor in The Expanse, or in that beasts stomach, or skewered by the man in that inky ocean.
If they had made through the Poortgang where did they end up? Did they also end up in this new land, did they make it to where Renelle wanted them to go initially, or did it spit them out in some land unknown by anyone? Levan put his face into his hands, the heat coming off his palms was uncomforting but he refused to change. They’re soldiers, masters of their craft surely they can survive in whatever area they are in. Right? Maybe so, but then again, maybe not. Maybe they were dead. If they were what did that spell out for him? How did it interrupt Renelle’s plans?
Reaching into his pocket he thumbed Liya’s necklace before taking it out, he stared at the crack in the crystal, his reflection distorting due to it. His face got hot as his eyes filled with tears. Levan traced his thumb over the crack in the necklace again, his mind drifting to the day it had shattered.
It had been so sudden—so meaningless, really. One moment was all it took for him to lose her forever. Her laugh in that quiet, shy way of hers, her hand brushing against his as they walked back from the river. The smell of vanilla and spices that stuck to her dress, the soft waves of her hair. Now it was gone. All he could hear now was that scream. That awful, choking scream that echoed louder in his head than it ever had. The sound of her body hitting the ground before he even realized what had happened.
His hand tightened around the crystal, and he exhaled a shuddering breath. He hadn’t even noticed he was still holding it until long after the Trogs were not but shadowy forms dissolving into the skyline. But the necklace had been in his fist, the crack gleaming like a fresh wound in the dim light. Liya would’ve been furious if she saw it now. She’d always taken such great care of her things, scolding him for every scratch he left on his smith’s hammer. A small, bitter laugh escaped his lips. I should’ve been more careful with her too.
Levan let the necklace drop, its dull weight pressing into his palm. His chest felt heavy too, the weight spreading outward until it reached his arms, his legs, his throat. He didn’t dare cry—not here, not now. But the feeling was there, thick and unyielding. Like his body was screaming to release the raw emotions that tangled inside of him.
His thoughts turned to his family. His mother’s tears the night he left. His father’s hands, calloused and firm, gripping his shoulders one last time. They hadn’t said much, but they hadn’t needed to. The look in his father’s eyes had said enough: pride, mixed with fear and resignation. And Vilip.
Levan’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t even thought to say goodbye to Vilip. Not properly, anyway. The moment felt too raw, too real—too much like an admission that he was truly leaving everything behind. His brother wasn’t buried in that grave by his home, he was somewhere else. Left in a shallow grave among the men he fought and died beside. That was the harsh and final truth.
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I could’ve stayed, Levan thought, his chest tightening again. I could’ve helped rebuild, kept the smithy running. I didn’t have to go. But what was left in Zoidiv for him, really? An empty smithy, a family grieving not just one son but two? What could he even offer them, when his hands—so skilled at shaping iron and steel—had failed to protect the one person he swore to keep safe?
He closed his eyes, leaning back against the chair. The inn was quiet now, the muffled hum of conversation from downstairs blending into the background. For a moment, he let himself imagine the hearth in his family’s home, the sound of his mother humming as she cooked, his father’s hammer ringing out against the anvil. Would they still think of him, years from now, as the son who’d left? Would they even remember him at all?
The thought stung more than he cared to admit. But then, he supposed, that was part of what Renelle wanted from him, wasn’t it? To leave it all behind. To forget. To become something else—someone else. Levan rubbed his thumb over the cracked necklace one last time before slipping it back into his pocket. He wasn’t ready to forget. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
But in the quiet of the room, he couldn’t help but wonder if that choice would even be his to make. Was it his decision to become the Xilaskar? Or was that decision already made for him, by forces ancient and powerful? Would he even get answers to that question. Renelle might offer something hidden with half-truths and riddles, but that wasn’t enough. It never was.
It would be hours before Renelle finally returned to their room. She still looked exhausted, the rings around her eyes had darkened and they were always half closed. She collapsed into the chair by the table, letting out long exhale before fixing her posture.
“Levan.” She said quietly.
Levan shifted in the bed, sitting up and looking at her. Her hair was still matted and grimy, her face gaunt and a small cut had opened on her cheek. Her chest moved up and down as she took in deep breathes, and while her posture was near perfect, as it always was, there was a crack in it. Something that was off, though he couldn’t say what it exactly was.
“I am deeply sorry for my outburst earlier.” She started, “That was very unbecoming of me, and I apologize. And I understand your frustrations, truly I do, so I hope you will allow me to explain everything I can.”
Levan nodded, he felt a strange relief from her apology as well as a tinge of excitement that he might finally get answers out of her.
“I am a Mancer, that you already know. There are many like me within the Ashen Cycle. I told you that it we are powerful, that we can Weave the Arcane Web. And I told you that the techniques of Weaving has been kept secret or lost to the Glusonian world. That’s is only half true. The Clergy, and those who devote their lives to the Arcane Web can Weave it. But they can only Weave certain strings. The Clergy Weave the Gold String of the Holy Arcane and few also learn to Weave the Blue String of the Healing Arcane. Those seldom few who learn to Weave typically only learn to Weave the Orange String of Illusionary Arcane. Tricks to wow crowds of onlookers. Few choose to learn how to Weave the Red String of the Destruction Arcane.
“But we Mancers, we are taught to Weave all but one of the Strings. The Gold of Holy, Blue of Healing, Red of Destruction, Orange of Illusion, White of Mind, Purple of Necromantic, Green of Nature, but we do not learn the Black String of the Dark Arcane. It is forbidden. The few who do, are killed. But we Mancers are special, Levan. The Clergy and the Scholarly can Weave, but their bodies are not naturally able to Weave more than one seldom two Strings. Mancers, we are born with the innate ability to Weave the entire Arcane Web. We are taught so that we may one day find you, the Xilaskar, and assist you and your Yoldi in stopping Lord Nagan. That is our purpose, we will all die to see that you succeed in that quest.”
As she explained she moved her hands, colored wisps shot out from her fingers as she spoke, matching each of the colors she described, exactly as she had described them. They were a fascinating light show that Levan couldn’t take his eyes from.
“Will I learn to Weave?” Levan asked, eyes still fixated on the wisps.
Renelle shook her head, “No, Weaving the entire Web is something that is only able to be done by women. I do not know why. Regardless, the Xilaskar has something that is far more powerful than Weaving, but that it is something that only they can discover, for it changes from each Xilaskar to the next. Some of your Yoldi will be Weavers, masters of a specific String. Others, such as Ibilsin, will have different tasks ones that will become more clear once we have found the other Yoldi.”
Levan felt a small flame go out in his heart, Weaving sounded like something that would be immensely helpful, something that he would love to be able to do. “What’s so important about the Yoldi?”
“The Yoldi are your companions, they’re bound to you by fate. It like being the Xilaskar is not something they choose but designated at birth. Like I said they each posses something that will help you in your fight against Lord Nagan. One will be able to call upon immense physical strength, one can will be able to Weave deep into the White String, more than any Mancer can. But we’ve too few of them to know for certain which Yoldi they are.”
“And the Poortgang, what did I do it?” he inquired.
“You disrupted it.” Renelle answered bluntly, “When the Poortgang is disrupted it will lose the connection that it had and send you to a random Poortgang. In your case that one seemed to be built into that wall. In time the Poortgang will fix itself, but now anyone who uses it will end up somewhere they are not to want.”
Levan’s stomach flipped, he suddenly remembered what it felt like. The spinning and the pain that it induced, the hard crash through the tanner’s wall and onto his cold floor. As he thought of it his mind went to Hyrum and Ibilsin, “What about Hyrum and Ibilsin? Are they here? Did they die?”
“They are here, somewhere. The disruption will not send us too far away from eachother, but where exactly they ended up I do not know. If I were to guess, it’s somewhere in this city. And don’t fret they aren’t dead. If Ibilsin died, his essence that led me to find him would have dissipated. And Hyrum’s connection to me would have been severed. But neither has happened.” Renelle explained.
Levan breathed a sigh of relief, “So where are they? Where are we?”
“We are in Ludansk, the capital of the Golaria.” she said.
Golaria! We’re on the other damn side of Glusonia! “So what do we do about Hyrum and Ibilsin?” Levan said, trying to keep on the same topic.
“I can find Hyrum easily, our connection will make that simple. Ibilsin though, we will have to figure out where he landed. I don’t think that will be difficult though.” she said.
“What do you mean your connection?” he asked.
Renelle’s posture had begun to falter, she slowly began to slump in her chair as she answered his questions, “When a Mancer has finished her training, we are taken to the courtyard of Fort Gilnak, where the Bond Blades are taught and trained. Newly graduated Bond Blades, and ones who have unfortunately lost their Mancer are lined up in a large formation. The Mancers go down the formation of Bond Blades, Weaving the White String to view them as their true self, see their thoughts, understand their motivations and personalities. Once they find a Bond Blade that fits them, they are bound together by the Mancer who taught them. She binds the two in soul, it is then up to the Bond Blade and Mancer to bind themselves in body.”
“Meaning?” Levan asked.
“There is no hidden meaning, Levan.” Renelle said, “It’s simple, do not be a child.”
Levan put up his hands, “Sorry.”
Renelle shook her head, “It does not happen that same day, it may not happen throughout their first year together. But it will happen eventually. Mancer and Bond Blade binds are strong, we are meant to be together.”
“What like soulmates?” Levan asked.
“If that’s how you wish to view it.” Renelle said, and while she tried to hide it Levan could see her face turn slightly red.
“Well then I suppose we should find him quickly then. Ibilsin too. Golarians aren’t known for the kindness to Aubuks.” he said.
“It’s good they aren’t Aubuks then.” Renelle said, “Though I’m sure the difference is lost on the Golarians.”
There was a small silence, as it grew Levan looked at Renelle. Her perfect posture was completely deteriorated, she slumped in her chair hair dangling in her face. He felt a wince of pain looking upon her, it was almost frightening to see her in such a state. Levan got out of the bed, and motioned for her to lie down. Renelle looked at him for a moment at the bed then back to him. She stood and hesitated, but eventually she silently shuffled over to the bed and collapsed onto it, the frame moving back and forth as it settled with the weight. Just as quick as she fell onto the bed she was asleep, her chest rising and falling.
Levan watched for a few moments before grabbing the pillow from the other side of the bed and a spare blanket. He made a makeshift bed on the floor, as he lay down the exhaustion of the day hit him, he didn’t even remember falling asleep.