“The mystery behind lancer magick and where it comes from is still hotly debated to this day. Is it truly some mystical, inexplicable ability granted by an invisible, unknowable benefactor, or is it simply something we currently lack the capability to understand? I, for one, believe more research is needed before we know whether there’s even an answer to be had.”

—General Brom Vaquinas in a report to JIAHC

The next two days were productive; Zaina learned to summon her cipher on command, and then started going through the vis-screen lessons for her equipment.

There was the hex-guard, her projectable energy shield; the distiller, a cup that made any water drinkable with a particle filter; retractable steel cable from a small, cylindrical launcher; a comms antenna to be affixed to the back of her armor, whenever she got that; a rechargeable multi-flare light box no bigger than two of her fingers; thruster attachments for her boots and connected hip stabilizers; a customizable scan-visor with several useful readouts; a breathing mask; atmospheric sensor pads; a micro-dehumidifier and a temperature-control micro-unit as attachments for her future armor; a strand-glove, a form-fitting metal gauntlet with hand protection which would supposedly help with lancer magick; the last thing she faced down was the beeping, cylindrical grenade. It was actually a micro-grenade dispenser with a variety of settings—from electrified, flash, and concussive to echoburst and magnetic, there was no shortage of explosives to choose from.

It didn’t take long for Zaina to get a grasp on everything—within three days she’d practiced with everything she could. The micro-projector on her wrist—called a vexicon, she’d learned—was highly useful. It came equipped with a translation function that recognized several million forms of speech across the vast Nova Rim Galaxy, a list of contacts within the Order of Riiva, and information on different worlds and their native species.

There was also information about the galaxy’s enemies, of which there were plenty. From revolutionaries to opportunists to sadists, the Nova Rim had it all. It was such a wide galaxy, and Zaina knew there were bad people out there, but seeing the endless sea of names filled her with dread.

If I was called to do this, it’s no wonder. There’s so much…

There was little point in worrying about that now. Zaina had to keep learning. It sucked that she had come this far without any help from her mentor, but now there was only one thing to cover: magick.

The woman was still around at the end of the third day, having made snide comments the whole time Zaina was trying to train. Zaina ignored her—there was no point in feeding into the antagonism.

After finishing up the lesson plans related to equipment, Zaina packed up for the day—the woman was still puffing on her roll and scrolling through her vexicon. Zaina was heading back to her hut when the woman’s voice carved through the still evening air.

“Hey,” she called out, “it won’t be long until you’re done! First mission, coming soon.”

Zaina stopped on a dime. That was the most supportive thing she’d heard from her mentor. She turned and said, “Yeah, really? I didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

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The woman shrugged. “Lancer abilities are like any other skill—it’s easy to learn, but hard to master. Don’t get too excited, anyway—it’s not like our first mission’s going to be any good.”

Zaina groaned. “‘Our first mission?’ Please tell me—”

“Oh, yeah,” the woman said, then took a drag off her fragrant roll. “We’re stuck together for a while, kid. Better get used to it. Besides, our missions are either gonna be boring—diplomatic escorts, deep-world convoys, that sort of thing—or the worst of the worst that no one else wants to do.”

“Why—because we’re half-heretics?”

The woman glanced over at her. “Yeah, exactly. Better get used to it. Indifference is about the best you can hope for.”

Zaina grimaced. “You really are the worst mentor I’ve ever heard of.”

The woman waved Zaina away. “Run along now, kid. You’re lucky I don’t start recommending you for missions right now.”

Zaina grumbled to herself as she walked back to her hut. “I’ll show you. You’re going to regret those words, you’ll see.”

She settled in for another night of rest—who needed that bitter woman, anyway? Zaina had come this far on her own.

Impatient, she accessed the vis-screen once more and pulled up the folder under Learning and Honing Magick. She tapped the first icon on the page Discovery.

The vis-glyph chirped its usual greeting. “Hello, Zaina. I am your vis-glyph. You’ve selected the course on Magick Discovery, is that correct?”

Zaina rolled her eyes. It did this every time. “Yes.”

“Affirmative. An overview of discovery: introduction. Discovery is the process by which a lancer determines which forms of magick they have access to. Discovery requires deep meditation—the means by which a lancer finds the strands Riiva buried within them during contact. This is often the most difficult part for new lancers to achieve, as Riiva’s form of communication is notably subtle. The most common method of discovery involves wishing for your path once you’ve found the strands; others must have their powers awakened by a qualified scholar, and others still slowly gain their powers in fits and spurts for up to a few weeks’ time. Would you like to know more about: deep meditation, finding the strands, wishing for your path, or common interpretations of visions?”

Zaina chose the third option. Gir had said something similar—that she’d have to wish to be shown what she could do. The glyph confirmed it.

At this point, the strands were relatively easy to access; it took little effort to reach them. If she concentrated hard enough, even closing her eyes was enough to summon their presence.

This time, though, she had a few layers to peel back. The first was a leisurely walk through the forest with Kitali; in the second she was helping her father sell the farm’s harvest in the Ildegor marketplace. Finally, she reached the strands.

Good thing I apparently took care of the hardest part first.

Zaina stared at the interwoven strands all around her and held a hand to her chest as she spoke her heart’s wish into existence.

“I wish for my path.”

The strands reacted—they glowed and started to move, untangling in some places and tangling further in others; they swirled around Zaina, enveloping her, and then consuming her. She was torn apart atom by atom—as her vision faded away to shadow, there was no pain, only the experience of suffusing into Riiva itself.

Then, from the darkness came a heartbeat which pounded like an ever-beating drum. Following that pulse came the roaring rush of blood. She was reforming amid an endless night, her brain, heart, veins, and arteries suspended in the void; then, with a series of crackling pops, her bones formed. Her other organs followed, and then a warm, thrilling sensation coursed through her newfound body as energy—pure, shining energy—became her muscles, tendons, and ligaments. Next came her skin, which reformed out of the void into flecks that swirled around her strange vision-body, attaching back at the proper spots until she was whole again. With a heaving gasp, she took her first breath

Voices began to call her name; some she recognized, like those of her family and Gir. Others she was sure she had never heard. These were unlike the shadowy whispers of the Eldritch.

One last heartbeat pumped into her ears, and then Gir’s voice spoke from the beyond. “Zaina. You’re awake.”

With that, she was immediately ejected from the vision.