The ritual activated.

The world turned white as a blinding wave of light rolled across the clearing. The light disappeared almost immediately, and with it, the colors. The world was cast in black and white as Jasper unloaded everything he had against the god’s champion. Got thirty seconds to take him down.

Shalgû were a tough counter to most of Jasper's spells, their resistance to the flames allowing them to shrug off all of his best spells. But for every problem, there was a solution, especially when you had runic magic at your disposal. The metal Arutû had left for Jasper was perfect for one very special ritual - a ritual that for thirty seconds reversed the target's strengths and weaknesses.

Jasper cast Shooting Star again and again, as a veritable swarm of fifty small fireballs shot toward the beast. He staggered, blinding pain shooting through his head as his essence nearly guttered out, but he fought through the pain as he channeled every last dreg of his strength into one final spell. Seraph Burst.

The beast roared in pain and confusion as a barrage of explosions rippled across its body; in seconds, the very fire he was used to shrugging off engulfed him as his white fire blackened with the wildly spreading flames. In its pain, it didn’t even notice the small attacker shooting toward it.

In a feat of agility Jasper could not have dreamed of, even in his wildest dreams back on earth, he somehow managed to land on the beast’s face, just beneath the eyes. He had no time to stabilize his land, as the second part of the spell whipped him in tight circles. The jet-black wings flared out as their razor-sharp fathers carved deep ravines into the beast’s eyes.

Howling in agony, Arutû's champion toppled backward, landing on the ground with an earth-shaking thud; its body had been transformed into a fiery inferno, its thick, lush fur going up like old books in a library, but the beast ignored all that as it desperately tried to remove the lancing pain in its eye.

Jasper saw the flaming hand flailing down toward him, but he couldn't afford to dodge. I either win this battle now or we all lose when the ritual ends. His essence was completely guttered out, his head was throbbing so bad his vision swam before him, but as Qara had taught him, a mage always had a last resort - soul magic.

He poured every ounce of his will into his glaive, begging his soul to fuel the fire, and it responded. Blue flames exploded off the dark, black metal as spectral wings ripped from his back. He fluttered in the air for a single second and then, with a scream of fury, Jasper plunged the glaive into the shalgu’s eye. The glaive, wreathed in the fires of the soul, shredded through all resistance, piercing deep into the brain as the shalgu’s hand slammed down on him and darkness consumed him.

Jasper awoke to find himself lying on the burning corpse of the shalgu. Fire and smoke billowed all around him, obscuring everything else from view as he struggled to remember where he was, his head still throbbing.

“Jasper? Jaaspper?” A woman's voice rose over the crackle of the flames. "Jasper?" Ihra. His mind suddenly clicked back into gear as the events of the fight roared back into place. Jasper stumbled to his feet, ignoring the tongues of flame that licked harmlessly at his skin. He nearly fell, his head screaming in protest as he stood up, but he managed to keep his balance as he looked for his weapon.

After a moment, he found it. The glaive still protruded out of the beast’s eyes, which had been mangled and shredded almost beyond recognition. But the weapon had not been the only one dealing out damage. The glaive's shaft was snapped in two, the blades still buried deep in the beast's eyes while most of the shaft lay on the face of the beast. It must have taken the brunt of that last blow, Jasper realized. Bracing himself, he pulled the blade out of the eye and, picking up the broken haft, half-walked, half-stumbled down the burning corpse. His armor hung loosely around him, the flames having burned off the clothes underneath. I've got to get some fireproof clothes one of these days. Of course, they're probably made of asbestos around here. The smoke begin to clear as he tumbled onto the scorched grass, pushing his way into the clearing.

Jasper almost fell back into the flames as he was hit by a blur of blonde hair. “Selene’s Grace. You were in there so long I was afraid you had died again.” He patted Ihra on the back awkwardly, prying her off after a few seconds. He held up the two pieces of the broken glaive. “Yeah, the shalgu got in one last good hit, unfortunately. Took the wind out of me.”

Ihra's face fell as she looked at the damaged weapon. “Well, at least you’re alive?”

Jasper just nodded, too tired to respond, and stumbled a few feet away from the still-burning beast before he plopped on the ground in exhaustion. The two halves of the glaive fell beside him, the noise muffled by the soft grass. “I have a quest to find the weapon’s maker anyway; he can probably fix it.” The four sat in silence, gathering their strength as the champion of the mountain burned like a sacrifice to the gods.

He lay on the ground for some time, the throbbing in his head slowly ebbing away as a trickle of essence returned to him. Beginning to feel better, he pushed himself up. That was when it finally clicked. "For god's sake - can someone get me some clothes?!"

When he was once again dressed, the four gathered at the base of the clearing, their eyes fixated on the golden dome that shone above them. “Well, shall we finish it?”

The path from the clearing to Arutû’s temple was well maintained; a narrow set of steps was carved into the cliff face that allowed them to quickly scale its heights. The temple, though it paled in comparison to Kas̆dael’s S̆uhruru, would have felt unashamed to stand next to the finest on earth. While the dome he had seen from below looked it could have belonged to the Hagia Sophia, as he drew closer he saw the temple looked closer to Asian architecture than the west.

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The dome was actually part of a tiered pagoda that was the central building, and the temple grounds were surrounded by low-lying red walls, every inch of which was decorated with exquisite carvings. Despite the frigid environments on the mountain peak, the courtyard was filled with gardens, through which pillars of moving leaves - spirits like the champions - slowly drifted. No one greeted them as they stepped through the gates, but their destination was immediately clear.

A hundred stairs led from the courtyard to the entrance of the pagoda, as obvious as any highway sign. The pale marble steps were shrouded in shadows cast by two of Tirra’s trees, whose great limbs offered the courtyard shelter from the harsh winds.

They walked in silence up the stairs, all four of them together struggling to push open the two colossal doors that barred their way. When the doors finally moved, they gave way without a sound, ushering them into the temple's great hall.

Lord Arutû awaited them at the end, the blue god sitting on a throne that matched Tirra’s in grandeur. But unlike Tirra, no ethereal voices echoed in his halls - the silence of the mountain and the wailing of the wind were his songs of praise. Reaching the throne, Jasper knelt before him, offering the goddess’ letter to the lord of the mountain.

He tore it impatiently, reading through it cursorily, before tossing it aside with a pleased smile. “Please, stand up.” The four stood as the god fixed Jasper with his gaze. “You have fulfilled Lady Tirra’s quest and proceeded another step along your divine quest. Well done.”

“I wish I could offer you my blessing as well, but,” he shrugged, “only one blessing may be earned per quest. Still, you deserve some reward for defeating my champions.”

Two of the leaf spirits floated through the hall, pausing before Jasper. “I offer you a choice. Do you desire a boon for yourself?” - the god paused dramatically - “or a boon for your companion?”

Jasper frowned as he stared at the two spirits. “What are the boons?”

The Mwyrani laughed, his voice echoing in the silent hall. “Not knowing is half the fun. I warn you, though, one is more valuable than the other.”

Jasper hesitated. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ihra quickly glance away, hiding her face from him, but not before he saw the spark of hope that lit up in her eyes. He had sensed she had been feeling down ever since the fiasco in Kār-Kuppû. Her arrows couldn't keep up with his normal spells, let alone ace cards like the Ophan, and although her runic magic had been decisive in the last battle, he knew she was questioning her usefulness. On the other hand, his own path felt more certain - he needed more levels, would always need more levels, but his path to power was clear. And so was his decision.

“I choose the boon for Ihra.”

Lord Arutû looked taken aback, but, after a moment's hesitation, the Mwyrani waved the spirit on the right forward. It thrust a piece of paper into Jasper’s hand, which after a brief inspection, proved to be nothing more than a map of the Moon-kissed territory, with a small x placed in the lower part of Dūr-Yarha and a name written beside it.

“What’s this?” Jasper looked up, confused. Treasure, maybe?

The blue god chuckled. “Your friend’s class is a bit pedestrian, is it not? She cannot become a mage, but she can become a warrior to be feared. The map shows the location of a trial much like the one Kas̆dael provided you. If she completes it successfully, she will earn a class well-suited to her talents, able to stand proudly by your side.”

Jasper bowed his hand as he passed the map to Ihra, who clutched it with wide eyes. “Thank you, Lord Arutû.”

The god waved one of his four hands dismissively. “It was nothing. Now leave me to enjoy the peace of my mountain.”

As the four neared the exit of the pagoda, Arutû’s voice drifted past his ear. “Do you not want to know what you would have received, Jasper?”

He shook his head, suffocating the annoyance rising up in his heart. “You said it yourself, Lord Arutû. Not knowing is half the fun.”

If “not knowing” was part of the fun, the hike down the mountain was definitely not. Climbing up icy cliffs had been difficult as hell; climbing down them was on an entirely different level, as gravity did its utmost to help Jasper make a fatally speedy descent down the mountain. It was not until they reached the base of the second clearing, where the path - though still steep - became visible again, that Jasper was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

The four trudged down the path toward the small village in silence, each lost in a world of their own - for a few minutes at least.

“So where are we heading now?”

Tsia’s question didn’t immediately register with him, as Jasper watched the rough path before, wondering if he had made the right decision.

“Jasper? What are you plans now?”

He snapped out of it. “Uh, I don't know. We were planning to go to Dūr-Yarha and try to get rid of this stupid lyre. And, now we have to find the trial there.”

Jasper glanced over at Ihra, who had safely tucked the precious map into her bag of holding. “Where is that trial anyways?”

The excitement sparkled in her eyes as she looked up from the trail. “Somewhere in the city itself - it's not super clear, but we have the name - Naḥas̆s̆innu.”

He turned back to Tsia. “So I guess that means we’re heading first to Dūr-Yarha, unless you have some other suggestion?”

She shook her head. “This place is as new to me as it is to you.”

But the usually reserved Nēs̆u spoke up. “Perhaps we should visit the House of the Third Son first. Their estate lies a short distance outside the city walls, at the base of Mt. Qaitz.”

Jasper glanced over, surprised both that the quiet warrior had spoken and that he had spoken with an apparent familiarity with the region. “Have you been there before? I thought almost no one was allowed to pass Dūr-S̆innu.”

Nēs̆u shrugged. “At the request of the king, I apprenticed with Aphora for a time. As one of my duties, I accompanied her on a trip to Dūr-Yarha. I do not know the nature of her business, but we stayed at the estate of the Third Son for a few months - we never even entered the city itself - but they seemed to be on good terms.”

Tsia was a few feet ahead of them on the path, her eyes trained on the road before her. Nēs̆u took a long, meaningful glance at his ward, repeating his words softly as he met Jasper’s eyes. “Very good terms.”

Jasper caught his drift, nodding subtly. “So you think they might be amenable to a deal for the lyre?”

The warrior shrugged. “Even the most honorable of nobles sometimes dirty their hands for politics, but I think the Third Son is our best hope for a favorable deal. What house did the Moon-kissed merchants work for?”

Jasper had to think for a moment, his brain struggling to remember Qarda’s faction. “The Seventh Daughter, I think?”

Nēs̆u grinned. “Even better. The Third Son and Seventh Daughter support different factions; they will be unlikely to cooperate with each other.”

Jasper raised his voice, making sure Ihra and Tsia could hear. “So it’s settled then? Shall we head for the House of the Third Son?”

With a chorus of assents, their course was charted.