Being born in the desert did not, it turned out, make one immune to hating it. The fact that Kemen’s robe kept the sandstorm off his back and even alleviated some of the heat did not make the conditions any less tolerable.

Half an hour in, Sil had discovered that one of the things he’d forgotten to pack was a waterskin. Of course, Kemen had an extra, but it was embarrassing to need it and Sil was told to ration his water intake. Not because of scarcity, but because it was good habit building.

Scratch that. Sil didn’t hate the desert. He hated Kemen. The man’s uncompromising pace made treading the sands more difficult than it had ever been. Sil longed for the two-minute rest breaks they took when Sil was half-collapsed already. It was a small mercy that even if his stamina was the same as it was two days ago, Sil did seem to recover noticeably faster just from the ether coursing through his veins.

Imelda, too, was low on his list. She’d hurried them out of the Glass Helm and Sil had agreed under the implication that they’d have plenty of time to talk while they were trekking. That was not the case. The only time Sil’s burning questions could be answered was those rigorously segmented breaks, where Kemen halted the sandstorm in the area with a pulse of ether and chatted with Sil. Otherwise, the roar of the winds was too strong for Sil to hear anything, though it seemed like Imelda and Kemen managed just fine. Stupid Tempering.

That had been the first thing Sil asked about, and the explanation had occupied all of the five-minute break. Sil could indeed look forward to the superhuman strength and stamina befitting a Favored - after his Tempering. As Kemen explained it, it was a unique technique that opened a connection to one’s Herald and allowed ether to flood the muscles in a way it didn't when one became a Favored. Right now, his body was operating on the level of a normal human despite the massively-increased density of ether inside of him. Without intervention, over time, his body would adapt and transcend normal human limits, but Tempering was its own opportunity. Sil tried to remember exactly how Kemen had described it.

“Look, for hundreds of years, Favored did it the natural way. It’s steady, it’s safe, and it works - sometimes, it can work even better than Tempering. But the technique is something special. It’s the first thing every Favored learns that involves using ether for something more advanced than strengthening a muscle or healing a wound. I don’t want to overwhelm you with information, so I’ll leave it at this: Tempering is a test of endurance and willpower. It's also a test of your character. Instead of your body slowly improving to match your ether density, you use that mismatch to open a connection to your Herald. Their ether fills your body. It’s almost like awakening another time, except instead of forging channels in your body or building a reservoir, the ether is interacting with the physical.

“But that connection is dangerous. While you’re allowing the boundless energy of your Herald to remake your body, your mind is open - uniquely open - to their realm. At first, the pull will be weak. You’ll be able to keep yourself grounded fairly easily and hold on to your identity without feeling any strain. But the longer you let those energies temper you, the stronger the pull becomes. Heralds can’t do anything about it - it’s a consequence of their existence. It’s not uncommon that a Favored lose himself while Tempering. It’s…” Sil would never forget the expression on Kemen’s face. “It’s haunting. You can’t get used to it. The body’s there, functioning, breathing, pumping blood and even ether. But there’s no consciousness to direct it.

“Even those that pull themselves back, if they spent too long on the edge, they’ll be different. Some more than others. I’ve seen kind men turn into monsters from too much ambition during Tempering.” Time had been almost up after Kemen said that - Sil could see it in the pocketwatch that Kemen pulled out during breaks. The older man had wondered, then.

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“I have no clue how it’s going to work for you. Two Heralds… will you be Tempered at twice the rate? Will you only be able to receive it from one of your Heralds? And then there’s the fact that you’re not quite suited for Medvos’ influence… that means Tempering with his ether will mean an incredible risk for you. Even if you’re not lost, you- well, I worry. What if you lose touch with the part of yourself that made Imfrit, a Herald of wonder and love and passion, choose you? And if you no longer mesh with her, will you be lost to both Medvos and Imfrit? And if you are? How can you contain both? Can you? I-"

Kemen took a deep breath.

“Sil, I fear you’re going to have to be stronger than anyone.”

There was still half a minute left, but it passed in silence. Even Imelda’s irreverence seemed subdued this time as they stood up in silence and started again on a long trek.

Sil hadn’t felt like asking questions during the next break, and even afterwards, he kept them simple and surface-level. He asked about Auguries and enchanting, about the Heralds of Kemen and Imelda, and about his own Heralds. He thirsted particularly for information on Imfrit. She had chosen him, unlike Medvos, who just found his blessings trapped in Sil’s body.

Unfortunately. Kemen didn’t know much about her other than the basics. She was rare, most likely because those that could most change the world often didn’t mesh with Imfrit. It took ruthlessness, not curiosity, to gain power, and so Imfrit found herself without many Favored throughout history.

Sil thought his dad would have been proud if he knew his son had been selected by such a Herald.

Finally, an hour or two from sunset, Kemen spoke up in the beginning of a break.

“It’s getting time to find camp for the night. It’s possible to rough it out here, but I think we’d all prefer if we found somewhere more comfortable. Of course,” he grinned evilly at Imelda. “That means clearing out whatever inhabitants we find there.”

She groaned knowingly and Sil looked around, askance.

“Clearing out whatever… like wild animals?”

Imelda snorted.

“Yes, of course wild animals. Many like to live in the same spots we find comfortable. If we can get away with it, we like to scare them away sooner than kill them - we’re the invaders, after all - but it’s perfectly normal either way. It’s like hunting.”

Kemen cut in.

“Of course, most of them are not just animals. They’re beasts. But I imagine you already knew that, Sil - small towns like yours are very aware of the threat that beasts pose. They can be just as strong as Heralds who’ve overcome their first Tempering, and sometimes even their second or third or more.” He chuckled evilly. “Now, let me see what I can find for tonight.”

Imelda walked over to sit next to Sil. She whispered conspiratorially to him.

“He’s about to search. He has a Form that allows him to sense through the ground and find things in a certain radius. I suggest you drink it in - if we’re talented and hard-working enough, one day, we can do something like this too. Except the avian Heralds prefer to let their Favored fly.”

Sil was planning to ask what a Form was before Imelda mentioned flying. He jerked his head around to look at her.

“Did you say-”

“Shh!”

Kemen’s Mark was glowing more strongly than Sil would have thought possible. Imelda didn’t look surprised at the earthy golden brightness of the light shining out from his Mark, nor at the pulse of ether Sil felt shoot out of him, dense enough to make his clothes sway even from 20 feet back. Sil lost himself in the sight of the sands, too, rippling like they were made of water as Kemen continued kneeling down.

After a solid 10 seconds, he stood and addressed Imelda and Sil.

“Good news and bad news. Good news: I found somewhere with enough cover that we won’t even have to keep watch. Bad news: to earn such a nice night’s rest, Imelda’s going to have to fight off a Rachid nest.”