My days had become packed. I barely had room to breath between the training, studying, and actual Inking. Lunch was the only time I rested aside from sleeping. I even sacrificed my bathing time.

I still conversed with Spare on a daily basis. Sometimes with a vague feeling that something was wrong, as if someone had set a thick fog over my own thoughts. I was afraid to admit that Spare was right, I was beginning to remember things. His knowledge was slowly coming to me.

That had already made studying the old ways a simpler job. Knowing some glyphs already meant I could deduce others from context or even look it up. As it was usually the case, though, knowing something and being able to repeat it like a parrot didn't mean being able to do it. At all. Drawing and communing with Ink was my second most important worry—right after combat training.

Which had begun the very next week from the challenge. Drak'oora Layan said that it took longer than expected to find someone. I couldn't help but think that a week was still fast considering that I asked for it out of the blue.

With Yaasir I had been training wherever we could. Slums, shacks, and usually just outright in the open. His classes were nothing short of amazing, and we couldn’t stay too much time in a single place or we risked bystanders being able to identify us. The last thing we wanted was a crowd gathering and following us around.

He had been a very hands on teacher. And by hands on I mean no other thing than constantly forcing me to battle him. A challenge that we both knew I would never win, yet that made me process dramatically faster.

I was hoping that I could recreate the same learning environment as I had, but my expectations were quickly betrayed as soon as we reached the training centre. That’s at least how Layan chose to define the dome-shaped building we had in front of us. The place were, as she nicely put it, I could have the training I had asked for.

We walked into an empty dome of proportions that shouldn’t be humanly possible. The circular roof was magically held together by curved stone pillars that closely followed its rounded shape. Contrary to my expectations, the place was excellently lit. Windows the size of two adult persons were strategically placed every few meters.

I stood there in the entrance, frozen, while marvelling at the constructs at play. My eyes could see more than your average eyes, and this building was not an exception. What really held it together were the formations at its floor at the the pinnacle. The complete and exact meaning was lost to me, but I could read enough of it to guess they were Inked to share and distribute the weight.

“Are you coming?” Drak’oora Layan broke me out of my daydreaming.

I reluctantly stopped examining the strings of Ink after a last observation that all of them met at the pinnacle and then travelled further to the East. I would have to come back, and I would have to examine that Ink.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” She briefly looked up while saying that. “Another of the wonders our yearly challenges have gifted us.”

“That’s what we’ve been told, at least,“ Spare intervened at this point. “But… what you are seeing here might tell a very different story.”

“History says it was one of the first challenges at that,” I replied using the information Spare already had and my own observations.

I laid it out in a way that hopefully baited her into elaborating more. What Spare knew was hear-say, a myth passed down from early generations with no factual confirmation. However, I could now trace down Ink, and the fact that it went East suggested that whatever Ink had been used was top-notch.

“Does it?” She shrugged and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Either she was a really good actress with an emotional control beyond anything she had showed until know, or she was none the wiser. That made you wonder, just how deep did the lie run that not even those in charge knew?

Drak’oora were elected. They didn't necessarily come from a chain of famous or knowledgeable Drak’ga. They participated in the ritual with their masters, but their roots might have still been common and not have known to begin with. That said, how could there were no documents or trace if not because the Empire chose to hide them.

The conversation was cut short, though. My follow-up questions had to be kept in the back of my mind, for my teacher was waiting right in the middle of the dome.

Tall with the body of someone who has trained everyday of their adult life. Fit and muscular yet not bulky. Toned to a perfection that I had never seen before. She stood out in more than just physic, though.

Unlike every single Drak’ga I had seen so far, she was dressed from head to feet. She was packing light clothes, unobtrusive leather and fabrics that covered all weak-spots while retaining the nimbleness you’d expect of someone who wants to quickly dash in and out of battle.

“Drak’oora Layan,” she bowed slightly, nowhere near the level of the Drak’ga salute, and brought two fingers to her shoulder.

“Military salute, high ranking individual. She does not see the Drak’oora as her superior.”

That was enough to convince me that I had to be on my best manners. For two reasons. The obvious being that she was someone important I didn’t want to cross. The crucial one, a high ranking member of the Empire could not discover that I had knowledge of the old ways, and more, without the Empire itself knowing.

I bowed the traditional 45 degrees and made sure my index touched my shoulder.

“It’s a pleasure to have you as my teacher, I’m Tarar.”

Those were some tense seconds. One of those moments were you could say time elongated to minutes and hours. I felt her gaze land on me, and I knew she was carefully analysing every fibre of my body.

“Dravia,” she suddenly announced. “You are not yet my student, that’s an honour reserved for those who have proven themselves. I thought that was clear, Layan?”

Dravia moved her stare to Layan, fixing her eyes on hers. No smile, no questioning looks. Dravia was making a point; she had requested something to happen, and that didn’t happen.

“I figured,” Layan countered, “that I would let you explain that to our young Inker here. And, in that spirit, I will let you figure the rest out.”

True to her words, as soon as it was said she turned around and started leaving. Needless to say, the whole situation was fun to watch. It was payback for every time Layan had been snark with me.

Dravia turned around robotically, managing to stop right when our eyes crossed. She was precise, and her actions spoke by themselves. She raised an eyebrow and slightly nodded, and I got what she wanted. Go prove yourself already, I don’t want to waste more time here.

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If I was doing this, I was going all in. There was no point in middle grounds or attempting to hide my true strength. I had to reveal some of my cards, one that had been hidden for as long as I had been here and that was dying to get out.

Watch me, Yaasir.

The posture was engraved by fire in my mind. I took my stance, one foot in front and the other behind, slightly open, and with my chest facing front. I moved my hands into position, and this time I didn’t hesitate to invoke my weapons directly into my hands.

At the same time, my second best appeared on my rear hand. I gripped it as my other hand exhibited my best work of art. La’er, the eternal flame. Its flames were reaching out like small snakes looking to bite my opponent.

And for the first time, I saw her eye twitch. It was a small and involuntary movement, it might have meant nothing, but to me it was fuel for my performance. It meant I had gathered her interest, and now I had to take it and make it a thousand times greater.

Embracing the rapid and lethal slashes motto behind my stance, I dashed to my opponent with the intention of inflicting a killing blow. La’er came down for her head as she stepped back. I swung my back hand while spinning. Her bare hands parried my attack, but I was ready for that.

I sent La’er in a horizontal slash, letting its flames free and sending a heat wave the way of Dravia. The killing move I had used when trying to save Spare parted the air in two and whistled its way to her. It found its target.

But nothing happened.

I failed to see what she did, I just knew that in the blink of an eye she had invoked Ink, stopped my attack, and recalled whatever she materialised. She showed expertise that I would risk to say rivalled Yaasir.

“What you’ve shown is good,” she said, “but good is not enough for me. If that is all you have, you are not fit to be my student.”

“Fair enough. I did think that I should not refrain from showing my absolute best. Sorry for doubting myself.”

I had gone through the mental process. I knew that this type of fight required going one step beyond, that it required communion with Ink. Yet, every time I thought of attempting it, I couldn’t help but think of the last time I had tried it.

La’er consumed me in a way that I had never felt before. I was lost in the moment itself. Fighting only for the sake of fighting. Killing and forgetting what was ultimately my mission, saving Spare.

But this was not the moment to doubt myself. I promised Makka that I would train until I could no longer move, and I couldn’t fail him already. I owned my friends and myself a genuine attempt.

I bounced back twice to gain some distance and closed my eyes. Much had happened since the last time I had entered communion with invoked Ink in my hands. I closed my eyes and I let the familiar feeling of abandoning my body invade me.

“Tarar!” The shout came clear and strong, far from the ghostly whisper that I normally heard.

I darted to Dravia once more, but this time I let Ink open strong. I followed right behind a flame twice the size of the previous. It struck as I was bringing my backhand to the front. Stabbing was contrary to the believes of what Yaasir had taught me, and Ink knew it.

Dravia block the flame the same way as before, but this time I was right there. She quickly reacted, reading my stab and defensively placing her hand in its way. What she didn’t see was the faint.

The dagger barely caressed her skin. With no force behind it, the dagger stopped with the briefest contact. I let it slide down her hand and used the momentum to strike with La’er.

Another big flame came down crashing for her head. It was perfectly aimed to cut through her head and right through the centre of her body. I heard a clang, a metallic collision that told me she had invoked something. But Ink didn’t care, and if She didn’t then neither did I.

I didn’t do any effort to stop my downwards momentum, and instead let my body drop to the floor. I let my feet of the ground, momentarily ignored the rule of not losing my centre of mass, and performed a flip. Right half through it I let my leg lose towards her chest.

It hit, and it felt like I had just hit a concrete wall. She didn’t move a single inch from her spot, as if she had been glued to the floor. But I didn’t stop just here. I low-kicked into her ankle in an attempt to swipe he into the floor, already knowing I would again meet an unmovable mountain.

And I did. La’er swung upwards but it didn’t last for long, again meeting with Dravia’s weapon. There weren’t many options, she was playing defensively and I was running out of ideas.

But there was something I could still try. I fought back for my body’s control, trying to take over from Ink. It was a battle of wits, and none of us was winning it.

My third dagger! I thought, but nothing changed.

“My third dagger!” I yelled out loud.

Expecting the same outcome, a lack of answer, I was positively surprised when the idea converted into an action. I had seen Yaasir summoning weapons out of seemingly nowhere, and even Horas had been able to invoke a curtain of metal to plunder his target.

I was nowhere near that level, what I wanted was much simpler. A repeat of the trick I did when I robbed the ring in the sewers. I made the dagger appear right on top of Dravia’s head and trusted gravity to do the rest.

The idea was good, or so I liked to think, but it felt like child’s play when she didn’t even bother to look up. She somehow knew that I was doing that and managed to stop my distraction without any consequence whatsoever.

Either she was really good, I thought, or she has a way of telling where Ink is. It sounded too similar to my true sight, to my ability to see Ink strings. What if she had saw it, a link that started on my arm and went directly above her head. What if she also had it?

“Enough. I have a question for you and then I’ll decide.”

I was relieved that I didn’t to think of anything else. Having managed to make Ink do my bidding, even if only briefly and to invoke a dagger, had been enough to regain some of my lost confidence. I could actually control myself when in communion.

Thinking back to Lamar, that time I had been under stress, under the pressure of knowing Spare was being held captive, and under genuine anger and ire against those that were doing so. Spare had told me once that an Inker couldn’t be influenced by his feelings, and I wholeheartedly agreed now.

“Just now, do you know what you were doing?”

There was only one even I could think of. Right after I completely made my mind and decided to throw caution to the wind.

“Yes, I had an excellent teacher before who taught me more than just a stance and a fighting stance. From what I’ve seen, I believe you would be a fair match for him,” that got a raised eyebrow, but she didn’t seem particularly offended by my remark. “To answer your question, I have entered communion with Ink, a state where I can let go of my own limitations and let Ink act directly. However, this time it felt different. I didn’t just surrender myself completely to Her, and instead tried to enter a dialog. I communicated my expectations and my plans, and it was that what allowed me to summon that last dagger.”

“You are reckless, full of openings, too eager to act, don’t think, rush to conclusions without thinking your actions fully,” she berated me. “And that’s precisely why you will be my student, because if left unchecked and wild your potential will go to waste. As you are, you will only find a quick death.”

I refrained from complaining about her strange way of saying and I was good but inexperienced. However, no matter how she phrased it, I could only agree. I lacked real life experience, in general but also specifically in fights.

“That will be all for today,“ she suddenly announced, catching me by surprise. I suppose she saw my confused face and felt compelled to continue. “Now I know what I’m working with. Your style is not foreign to me, and neither is communion, but the combination is not something I have taught anyone before. I will prepare a plan, things you can work on and improve, but that will have to be tomorrow.”

I didn’t get an opportunity to reply. While saying these words she was already leaving, clearly occupied and already thinking on what she had seen. I walked my way back to my cell, but I decided to stop by Makka’s cell. We hadn’t left in good terms, and I wanted to make sure our friendship was not suffering for it.

I heard noises inside, so I knocked his door, but no one responded. I knocked again, a bit louder in case he had not heard, but again no one came to open.

“Makka, I know yesterday was… rough.” I struggled to put my thoughts into words. It would have been easier if I could have seen him, I think, but that didn’t happen. I was hurt that he didn’t open, but chose to ignore it. “I just want to know that I will do my utmost best. I already have a teacher. It was tough, but I’ve made it. When we go to Setalan, and we will, nothing will stop us.”

I was about to walk away, but then I stopped.

“I hope you are okay. If not, please talk to me. You are my friend.”