Hopefully the “raffle” goes off without any trouble. There's always one, one with enough purity remaining to become the next vessel of the Grand Elder. These cattle are so short sighted, always forgetting, and thus the same tricks work as they always have.

This will be the last time, I know it. I've been close for more than a century now, but the ones that believe themselves to be Priorius will be the harvest that should put myself over the mark.

I will need strength soon, I will need to be fresh for what is to come. My day is at hand, and to celebrate, I shall entertain the masses, just as the old ones had. When I have saved the world, perhaps my next step shall be conquering it. Why not? It's good to keep goals, perhaps I'll even take the place of the divines.

When Kurt woke, he was warm. Not just warm, no, he was comfortably warm. He felt as though he had slept in his own bed, like he'd turn the corner to find bacon and eggs waiting for him. Looking down, he was startled to find that he had no pants.

His body ached as he turned, despite his comfort, to find his chamber well lit by small green glowing stones. Regardless, his left shoulder down his back hurt like he'd just been tossed about by two Giants insisting they could master the art of juggling. His mouth had a layer of filth in it, and not just his usual morning bouquet of dry mouth. He spat out a few pieces of dirt and rock dust that had more in common with sand than it did anything else. Through a thin doorway, roughly half the width of a normal door, was another chamber, from it came the familiar sound of a crackling fire.

He had to twist to get through the door, an experience he knew would hurt, but did it anyway. The flickering light had seduced him, enthralling him as he was taken by an instinct older than civilization, one that sought the light, warmth, and solace of an open flame. There was no natural light, not surprising as Kurt didn't see an exit to the open room, though what was there was intricate in design. Several pillars had been shaped into the wall, the floor miraculously leveled. Between two pillars the open flame beckoned from a well crafted fireplace. Around the framing were depictions of the three deities. Kressor extending a staff on the left looking vengeful, Gwendos on the right holding the same pose, where the two staffs crossed, Metae rose with both hands extended. It was beautiful work, and even if the scale was off, Kurt had to take a moment and appreciate the sight. Doubly so as the flames in the fireplace danced light over the gorgeous sculptures, giving them a lifelike quality Kurt couldn't quite put a finger on.

Across the chamber, in the far corner, was a water basin set on a raised platform of sorts. There, muttering quiet curses at her travel cloak, stood Quena.

“Good morning,” he said, undeterred by the pain in his side, he sounded cheery.

“Evening,” Quena replied briskly.

“By chance, did you happen to spot my pants? I fear the damned things went and ran off on me again.”

Not looking away from her immediate task, she asked, “again?”

“Oh, yes. Damned things like to run off, I almost always find them in the wash with a pile of dresses. Family curse, ya see?”

She gave a chuckle and turned, noticing Kurt in his undergarments. She hollered an alarmed “yip” before averting her gaze. “By the gods, couldn't you have kept the blanket on?” She said, incredulity creeping its way in to her voice.

“Blanket?” Kurt replied, sounding confused.

“Yes, the one I gave...” She abruptly looked over and spotted the blanket in question resting on a stone platform, neatly folded. “Oops,” she said it earnestly, but without a hint of actual regret in her voice.

Kurt let that sit a moment before he spoke. “So, pants?”

“Ah, they had to be mended. They're hanging up next to my travel pants, drying out.”

“Oh, no.” Kurt said in mock alarm. “You didn't leave them alone, did you?”

“Yes I did, I didn't know they required adult supervision.”

“Well, they do in point of fact. Now who is going to be responsible for all the loose rags and undergarments they'll birth? Not me, I've traveled this road before.” As he said this, he had found his pants and put them on. “Before you know it, we'll be overrun.”

She chuckled softly, finishing whatever she was doing with her cloak and molding the stone to pin it to the wall. That done, she moved over to a small locker and pulled out the bitrus fruit she had harvested earlier. “Hungry?”

Kurt nodded, reaching for his belt knife only to remember that he had lost it.

Quena brightened, “I found some obsidian.”

Kurt's brows lowered, “and?”

She darkened slightly, but went over to a two legged table that started at a wall. She grabbed a forearm sized chunk, carrying it over in two hands. “So, how would you like your blade?”

“Oh, taking requests are we?”

“We are.” She nodded.

Kurt had to think, putting his hand to his chin, surprised to find some stubble there. He had shaved before he left camp, but it had been a few days. “Well, I'd like it to fit the sheath I already have.” He moved to get it, realizing he didn't have his belt or his sheath. Quena was already on it, however, and was in the process of tossing Kurt his belt but hanging on to the sheath.

“What's so special about obsidian, anyways?” Kurt asked, actually curious.

“It's sharp, wickedly so. As long as you're with me, I can keep it that way with little effort, but I'll warn you, it is brittle.”

Raising his brow, he asked, “how brittle?”

“Like, as a cutting tool, nothing compares. As a shovel... well, don't use it for a shovel.”

“What about chopping?”

“If you like, I found some quartz earlier, that's how I made the Giastone that lit your room. Surrounding the quarts, I found some itacolumite, I could reinforce the spine to absorb most of the shock with it. I'll run a few extra veins through it to give it more durability.”

Kurt had no clue what she was going on about, so he just said, “sure,” as nonchalantly as he could.

Seeing right through his guise, she snorted and got to work. Within five minutes, he was holding on to a nine inch blade of questionable manufacturing, so he tested it on the fruit. It was the sharpest thing he'd ever touched.

“Any chance I could get you to make a razor for me, since you're feeling crafty.” He twisted his head, giving a sly grin.

The eye roll was expected, but half-hearted. She was amused, so Kurt explained what he needed. She obliged him, working with him for about fifteen minutes as they shared the bitrus fruit. She took the seeds too, saying that she'd bring in some soil later.

Quena left the room shortly thereafter, telling Kurt that he stunk. After a quick inspection, he found that she wasn't wrong. She had left to begin crafting her own quarters, explaining that she'd need a bit of time to get the ventilation to work properly in order to heat their little hideout. She did, at one point, open a hole in the wall to check the weather. The storm was still raging, so she swiftly closed it up, before leaving Kurt to his own devices. The memory came then.

Dorian and Kurt trained for months, perhaps more than a year. Time got funny at castle Dorian. Kurt had little else to do when Dorian worked on expanding his aptitudes in other capacities, so he worked more at shape crafting and experimentation. The trick, he had come to find, was to practice summoning the tools repeatedly in the form he needed. They both had worked at figuring this out without Moder's assistance, which became a sore spot to Moder. When the gremlin-man had shown his ugly mug, he shared little information that they hadn't figured out on their own, notwithstanding the plethora of history knew. The problem was that he was no longer granting deep insight into the understanding of what they both could do. Before, when he first came in to his power, he had progressed in bounds, or he at least felt he had.

When Moder and Dorian left to train, however, he was incredibly insightful to helping the “young one” improve his “primes.” When Kurt asked why he could help Dorian but not himself, Moder had shrugged. Without a care in the world he said, “you aren't a Priorius, or a vessel for that matter. The last time something like you walked the valley, I was still in my second millennia, and even they weren't exactly like you. You are unbound by the rules I knew, it'll be up to you to figure it out. When competing for your life, it's almost always the survivor's unique skills that will save them.”

“Says the undying creature that looks like a dead man and a hairless cat made a baby.” Kurt retorted.

Moder sighed, pinching the bridge of his pointed nose. “You know, we can't get this wrong. You have a part to play. You can't be informed about everything, too much to risk, but you have to be ready when the time comes. If you're not, I'll live on forever with this torment,” Moder pinched a part of his face and the skin peeled off, leaving a bloody splotch behind. It healed quickly, right in front of Kurt's eyes, but Moder wasn't done. “Not only will I have to continue to exist in this miserable husk,” he barked out, “but your little brother will either die or be the next one like me. We're both depending on you.” The tone was deadly serious, even the biggest fool could hear the cold heat behind Moder's words.

“Relax,” Kurt said reassuringly, “I've yet to find a challenge I can't overcome.” He said with an air of absolute confidence.

Then the unsightly bastard muttered, “we're doomed,” as he walked away. What an asshole.

Dorian did see steady improvement, but Moder had little understanding of what Dorian called “Will Casting.” Casting, imbuing, and an entire slew of other things that Kurt simply couldn't follow, became a constant irritation to Dorian. It was a mystery, but Kurt often shot out ideas in the hours they had together. Kurt gleamed that casting had something to do with “runes,” shapes that acted like a construct that could be funneled with Gia to create various effects. Unfortunately, Dorian figured out how to make a rune for making fire. Kurt pointed out that he had seen Dorian manifest fire when working on Chateau Dorian, but Dorian claimed it was different.

“When I use fire like that, it's because there's enough heat compacted that the air actually catches fire. This is different, I'm actually making fire directly.” Dorian had said, holding up a sphere of Gia with a black marking running through it.

“Still, what's the point, that takes you like half a minute, why bother?”

“Mostly, for containing the heat. I can concentrate on a small spot, but the heat will still leak out, with this method I can consolidate, and I don't have to use my prime.”

“So? Why does that matter?”

Dorian sighed wearily. “Primes cost minerals the body needs, Gia costs calories, and you can't use the same prime to do two separate things at once.”

“I'm going to nod, and pretend I understood everything you just said.” Kurt nodded slowly.

Dorian laughed, “say I want to make a Linewood staff, right? But I don't want to char the whole thing, or maybe I want to engrave it? I can use this construct, cast my flame, and remove all the heat from the areas I don't want charred at the same time using my prime. Otherwise, the whole thing will end up like burnt toast.”

“Then how did you make my staff?”

Dorian shrugged, “I cheated. Gwam dust.”

“Oh.” Kurt replied thoughtfully, before going back to practicing how far he could stretch one unit of Shade.

Most of the “daylight” hours were spent like this, training the physical and arcane, but in what would pass for the evenings they would kick back and just live a little. Dorian had taken to experimenting with various foods and spices to create some very successful dishes, and a few that... weren't exactly edible. Still, the tubby kid enjoyed making various dishes for the both of them. He was always particularly proud when he stumbled across a delicious combination of flavors, like curry and ginger.

Kurt, in the mean time, had to find himself a personal hobby. At first, Dorian's skills had made him feel like there wasn't any craft worth pursuing, as Dorian could simply will something to mend itself to his liking. What was the point in learning how to work steel when Dorian could just press his hand to it and forge a weapon in a few heartbeats?

Finally, after more than a month, Dorian had mentioned that he couldn't move organics telekinetically. Anything with a capacity for Gia was off limits, which meant it wouldn't be pointless to pick up another skill. Thinking it through, Kurt decided he'd start leather working. He knew the basics, but didn't want to deal with the entire process of tanning the hides, mostly because it stunk. He went to Moder, who was more than inclined to assist. As Moder put it, “finding fulfillment in any capacity expands your Gia reserves, which will serve my ends. I will provide you with all you need.” Maybe not a complete asshole then, Kurt thought.

Kurt's first project was something simple, he wanted to make a set of bracers, something that would prevent his arm from being stung every time he released a bow. The following time Moder dropped in, he laughed at Kurt's first attempt so viciously that Kurt had to amend his prior thought. Nope, he is a complete asshole.

At the thought, Moder looked over at him with a suspicious glare. “Did you just call me an asshole?”

Despite how unnerving the question was, Kurt nodded sagely. “You have a talent, one that you've obviously cultivated over the years. So is that like a sixth sense or something? You just know when people are thinking you're an asshole?” Kurt grinned, he knew he was caught but honestly didn't care.

With a flat stare, Moder said, “No.”

He turned to leave, but Kurt stopped him by laughing out, “Oh, come now. Don't be such a tender monster, where's the cackling creature I've come to know and love?” Kurt was being flippant, but he hoped it would smooth things over.

“You should watch yourself, little squire,” He said to Kurt with murder in his eyes. Then a smile broke free of the look, “I'm beginning to like you.”

He rinsed thoroughly, the cool water from the basin was refreshing if a bit chilly. Not that the temperature bothered him, but the thought of Quena walking in to the room as he was washing his naughty bits crossed his mind unbidden. He finished washing up quickly afterwards, though he knew he'd need to wash his breeches. He did so, putting on his mostly dried pants and placing his breeches by the fire. The fire was still strong, though it would likely need more fuel before long.

He would have went out and gotten some, but remembered that he was stuck there until the storm had passed, and even if he could go outside the wood would be sodden from the aforementioned storm. So far, this was a bad one, and even though they were behind a solid layer of rock he could hear the hail from time to time. He leveled with himself that the best choice of action at that point in time would be to dry out in front of the fire.

The warmth and comfort of his own chamber didn't even occur to him as he gritted his teeth, lying down on the naked stone. It wasn't as abrasively cold as he expected, which made him wonder how long this fire had been burning. For that matter, he didn't even know how long he was out for, but decided he'd ask Quena whenever she finished what she was doing.

He shut his eyes, passing the time by trying to recap recent events. Attempting to keep his head space chronological was beginning to become a chore. I wonder if it was like this for Dorian.

The experiences, flashbacks, bleeding through his minds eye were abrupt and had caught him at bad times in multiple situations now, though he'd been lucky so far. What would happen to him if he dazed out just before he needed to duck and found himself beheaded, forced to watch his own body fall to the floor.

He shivered at the thought, and was quietly grateful he hadn't been so unlucky. He was a lucky guy, he knew, but he also knew that tempting his fair lady in such a way would eventually run astray. He pondered for a short time as to what he could do about it. When he came to the simple conclusion of, “not a damned thing,” he let it go for the time being. No sense on brooding on the “what-ifs” when he couldn't do anything about it, so why bother? It would just string him out and run him ragged. That's what Dorian did, something Kurt hoped his brother would grow out of.

Find me at the tournament.

Oh yes, and that whole bit of cryptic nonsense. What was he supposed to do?

Maybe we'll get to fight in the tournament, ya think? I know I'm not that good, but you never know. Don't worry, I doubt I'll fight. Just find me, if you have to, use your boon. We'll make this work, I promise.

“Damn it, Dorian! Cut it out!” Kurt shouted, sitting up and rubbing his forehead.

“Something wrong?” Came Quena from another room.

“Oh, nothing, just being weird.” Kurt shook his head and laid back down, resting his head on his hands. He was being weird, and he knew it, but he was beginning to get frustrated over the entire Dorian ordeal. It didn't make sense, why couldn't he just remember it all and be done with it? Why did it have to drag out like this? And why the hell did he willingly go to the Monastery? Wasn't their goal a few months ago to simply stay under the radar?

“You could say that again.” Kurt could hear her footsteps, soft touches to the stone floor, silent if not for the echo. “Where are you?”

“Warming up, but you may want to shield your eyes, I'm drying my breeches.” Kurt said.

She hopped around a feature that had been obscuring his view, her face dropped quickly however. “Well that's disappointing.” She winked at him.

Kurt's head spun slightly as he processed that. “Whoa now, who do you think I am? Some wanton sexual barterer?” He smirked, sitting up slightly and resting on his elbows.

“Yes, actually, I just wish I knew what you were bartering for.” Her eyebrows flashed upwards then back down.

“Oh, you know, help saving the valley from an incoherent torturing madman.”

“Is that all?”

Kurt thought a moment, tilting his chin slightly, “starting with my village, of course, that should be about it. Just a heads up, it may topple our theocracy and plunge the valley in to chaos.”

Quena's brow came down, then one came up. “Are you serious?”

Kurt sat up, nodding. “Yeah, that's my price, I generally don't go any lower.”

The other brow came down and she glared, eyes beginning to glow. “No, not that you moron. You intend to overthrow our theocracy? Are you a revolutionary?”

Kurt put his hands up, he put on a stern expression and spoke slowly. “Hang on now. I'm not with the Kressians, I'm out here to get my father.” That didn't seem to phase her so he continued. “I'm not a revolutionary, I believe in the three, and I don't wish upend our religious organization.”

She softened slightly, sighing slowly. “Then what do you mean?”

“I'm not really certain myself. It's all garbled and confusing. There's my brother, and Moder, and-”

“What was that? What was that name you just said?”

“Moder, real nasty looking-”

“You've seen Moder? That's not possible.” Quena shook her head slowly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“What's the big deal, why not? Hell, if we get to the right spot I might be able to introduce you two.”

She was still shaking her head. She moved to some of the stone furniture and sat, staring off. “Moder isn't real, he's a myth, a nightmare dreamt up by scared initiates afraid of the dark.” Something about the way she shook made Kurt realize that she wasn't actually disagreeing, it was a nervous tic.

In his calmest voice he asked,“Quena, what happened?” Her breath was coming raggedly. “Calm down, take a deep breath.” He moved, but crouched down to put a hand on her shoulder and hold her eye. “It's all right, why don't we trade. You tell me your story, I'll tell you what I know of mine, deal?” He moved to the other chair after putting a shirt on. She was noticeably calmer, after a short while she spoke.

“Before... before I came out here I had a repeating nightmare. In it, I was in my cell at the Monastery. It would be late, lights out, and I'd be lying in my bed. I'd hear him say, “Your final trial comes. Be ready.” His voice was ragged and scratchy, and it gave me the creeps. I asked my cell mate about it, but she had no idea what I was talking about. So I kept asking until I stopped having the dream.” She stopped, thinking about what to say next.

“Yep, that sounds like a nightmare.”

“Eventually, when I described it to my mentor in private, he asked me if I was listening in on old superstitions. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I asked him. He told me about Moder, the ghost of a man that became a monster. He haunts the halls of the Monastery, foretelling doom. So I asked around, one other had heard of the story but was disbelieving.” She took a breath, then continued. “But then I really was chosen for my final trial. I didn't know what to think about it, so I let it go.” She got quiet, her eyes growing distant. “Then the nightmare came back. Everything was the same, except I could see his outline as he spoke different words. Sharp ears, bald head, body distorted, he would say, “the final trial is a farce. If you do as instructed, you will die.”

Kurt's brows lowered making a line. “Okay, go on.”

She took a breath letting it out slowly. “Then the last time he told me where to go, to follow the streams, to find the white wall and the cave there. That if I wanted to live, if I wanted freedom, I should go there and wait.” She contemplated something for a minute, but decided to add, “that's the only reason I didn't kill you outright when you stormed in to that cave the way you did. I guess I haven't been completely honest with you Kurt, but I think... I think I should reassess what I thought I knew.”

Sitting back, Kurt thought over her words for a time. Just when things were getting weird, Kurt started talking. How his memories have been coming back to him, how he was bound to his brother, where he'd been, but left out what he had learned there.

She listened intently, not showing any sign of emotion on her face. When Kurt finished, she didn't even pause before she asked, “and how did you come to control Gia and Shade? You shouldn't be able to, you don't even have any primes.”

“Apparently, its something to do with how I'm bound to my brother. I can manipulate it, and in some ways even my brother couldn't.” As he said the words, another flashback broke through, and he was swept away to a strange place with strange standards.

The sky was synthetic, apparently a natural byproduct of the “time bubble.” Within the sphere, anything that required sunlight, so everything, would die if the time bubble were held up too long. Dorian had apparently tinkered with it, and found that time bubbles would reflect the sun and moons at a relative time to the observer, or some such nonsense that Kurt honestly didn't care about. He said that once a time bubble grew to be large enough, or was made to be large enough, it technically became its own “biosphere.” Whatever the hell that meant.

Still, they sparred for countless hours, and even though Dorian was still doughy, he began to shape up a spell. He had grown a few inches, just as Kurt had, but now stood roughly five and a half feet instead of the pudgy five he had before.

At first, the sparring only consisted of staff work, techniques and the like. Then, they expanded, working on how they could manipulate Gia and Shade to create different tools relative to the occasion. The problem with the skill was time consumption, however. It seemed that without the need, manipulating Shade was much slower but also less taxing to the appetite. When Kurt had first begun, Dorian had to make Kurt slow down.

“It's always easier if you can summon it already shaped to the size and scale you need. Changing it on the fly is exhausting.” Dorian had said, and he was right. It took Kurt a long time to figure out how to summon what he may at the size and scale he needed, but he did finally get the hang of it. Even if it was more efficient, however, it was still draining. Kurt ate like an animal the whole time he was at Chateau Dorian, and found himself struggling to eat as much as he needed.

Then Moder had them started on what he called “stretching.” Stretching, like normal stretching, sucked. It was an uncomfortable experience involving summoning one's Shade and stretching it from its base size as far as one could. The thing was, when Shade was connected to his body, Kurt could feel it. It was comparable to the experience of pinching your finger between two stone slabs and paying attention to how far it would swell. It was like that, but so much worse.

Then they worked on “passing,” then “juggling,” then “funneling,” all things that were not self explanatory, but once experienced they became as natural as breathing. The hardest thing for Kurt to learn was “purifying.” Purifying the sources wasn't easy, but was downright mundane to Dorian. All it meant was how pure one could make the manifestation of either Shade or Gia. Imperfect Shade wasn't as hard, but would return more quickly. Perfect Shade would stay solidified indefinitely, but if it was lodged in to something that had a bit of Gia already, it would siphon it like a sponge. Purifying Gia had little benefit to Kurt, but it made Dorian's castings stronger, or so they said.

The exciting parts for Kurt were sparring with Moder. It was fun to instruct Dorian and all, but unless Dorian cheated, Kurt generally wiped the floor with the poor pill bug. Sparring with Moder was a different animal, however. Yes, he was freaky as all get out to look at, but once you got past that strange demeanor and even stranger looks, he wasn't all that bad. He had much more in common with what Kurt could do than with what Dorian could.

Every month or so, they'd get together and have a little meeting. They'd eat, talk about how they would topple the Monastery, show off some skills and ask questions of Moder. Moder, being older than dirt, had answers for most things, but failed miserably at will casting and control of his Gia.

That will take some explaining. Moder, though strong, had a kind of blockage. He could summon Gia, but not very much, and he couldn't purify it worth half a damn. Something about how he had been altered, it changed the way his powers worked. The worst part was that since he was mostly Shade, not Gia, and the Shade he had came from Bacchus, he literally couldn't harm the mad priest. His Shade would pass right through, much like you couldn't hurt yourself with your own Shade. Kurt pondered on that for a while, wondering how he was able to spar with Dorian using his own Shade, if they were bonded in the same way. Moder explained this away, saying that his own binding was distorted and wholly unique. Almost the opposite of Dorian and Kurt, Moder could only die once Bacchus had. Thinking on how that worked made his head spin, so Kurt put down the thoughts so he could focus on another question he had.

“Moder, how is that I can solidify my Shade at the range of my Gia?”

“You can't.” Moder replied, sounding as though he was tired of dealing with the two .

“But he can, I've seen him do it.” Dorian chirped up.

Raising a hairless brow, “is that so?”

Kurt nodded, “want to see a demonstration?”

“Oh yes, I would find that quite amusing. Little squire, I don't know why, but I love to watch you fail.” He laughed to himself for a second, then gestured a clawed hand over at Kurt. “Let me see.”

Kurt summoned a cloud of Gia, extending it over to Moder. At the edge of the cloud, he allowed Shade to flow through, solidifying it as it moved, making the shape broad and thin. It wasn't sharp, but with the way it flattened out, it made a pretty reasonable paddle. It wasn't the first time he'd made the shape that way, he'd been tormenting Dorian for weeks doing this. Nothing like a slap on the back from twenty yards away to get your tubby brother moving. Every time he had, he quietly thanked the gods for such a gift, as the distance was exactly what he'd usually need to make a clean getaway. Just like he had to his brother, he sent out the paddle to slap at Moder's side. It made a thwap noise, and a hefty chunk of Moder fell away. Stunned, Moder just stared at Kurt.

Kurt, meanwhile, was stunned as well. The chunk of skin was moving, and after a moment, a bipedal little monster crawled out of the chunk of flesh and started to scream. When all three sets of eyes fell upon the little creature, it quieted. Then, looking between the three of them, it got nervous, started crying and ran away, flailing its arms as it did.

Dorian's mouth was agape, as was Kurt's. Moder, seeming to finally come back to the moment, said, “That, as far as I knew, isn't possible. We'll go over this later, I have to take care of that one before he goes too far, I think he might be a good one.” He turned, wearing nothing but trousers he looked ghastly, save for the concerned look he wore. He shouted, “dentin tee Moder krentu teek!” Then scampered after the little bugger.

Dorian burst out in to laughter. It was funny, but Kurt had to ask, “what did he say?”

Throughout the bursts of laughter Dorian managed, “he said... He said,” he laughed again but finally spat out, “don't run away when your mother is speaking to you!”

Kurt laughed as hard as Dorian, it was a long while before they got to anything productive, even longer before Moder returned.

“I hope you found the, uh, kid?” Kurt asked, unsure what to call it.

“I found my pup, yes. He's surprisingly bright, that one. I'm going to name him after you.”

“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”

“You're the one who knocked him loose, and since you've become my favorite turd, I've decided to honor your memory. I've named him Turt, blending your name and title.”

“Isn't that technically a portmanteau?”

“Yes, little Dorian, I believe it is.”

Dorian nodded, playing along.

“Okay, okay, very funny.” Kurt paused, then asked, “figure anything else out about what I did?”

“No, but I've thought on it.”

“And?”

Moder's thinking noise was like a distant hallow clicking starting from his throat. “Summon your Gia, I have a theory.”

Kurt did so, holding a mass above his hand. The blob just floated there, amalgamate and globular. “Okay, now what?”

“Try to sweep this up using your Gia.” Moder pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, shredded it, and tossed it on the ground.

“Couldn't you have just thrown the whole paper on the ground instead of shredding it?” Kurt said, giving a sour look.

“Yes.” Moder said, smirking.

Kurt sighed, and sent his Gia out, guiding it to sweep up the shredded paper. At first, it wasn't thick enough, it could move the smaller pieces but not the rest. Thinking on the fly, instead of purifying his Gia, he mixed in more Shade. The result made his Gia behave more like water, giving it more consistency. The difference was the density of air to the that of water, the papers flowed upwards, following each other in a circular route. He moved it, his range was about twenty yards with Gia so long as it wasn't too heavy. That is to say, if it had any real weight to it. It had mass, moving it took time and energy but was easier to use so long as it kept momentum. Though he could move it without moving his body, he hated to. It made him want to crawl out of his own skin, but when he engaged his entire body it felt so natural. Like breathing, it moved through the air. Kurt began to siphon a bit of Gia back to himself, thinning out the range of movement until it kept to small circuit just above Moder.

Kurt let go, the Gia dissipating after a moment, the paper shreds drifting slowly over Moder.

He looked unamused as he plucked a piece of paper from his shoulder. Dorian began chortling, doing all he could to stifle his laughter but failing miserably. Moder sighed, a few shreds of paper drifting to the floor as they dislodged.

Kurt smirked, but didn't lose his shit like Dorian. That kid couldn't keep a straight face to save his life.

“That's very interesting, little squire, but It seems to me that you have a much deeper range than anyone. Summon a unit of Shade and let me see it.” Kurt did so and handed it over to Moder. Moder inspected it, tinkering and inspecting it as his eyes glowed. “That is fascinating.”

“What?” Kurt and Dorian both asked. Dorian was concerned, Kurt was curious.

“Your Kraken is as solid as mine, but this must be twenty percent Gia. I wouldn't believe it if I weren't holding it right now.” His eyes widened, then he tossed it into the white exterior to their courtyard shed. It wiggled free and started heading towards them.

“Wow, that's fast.” Dorian said. Moder nodded.

“I suggest you focus your attention on that for now, that is unique. It may save your life in the future, and it is something no-one will expect, as even I have never seen the like.” Moder grimaced, turned on a heel, and left leaving a trail of shredded paper in his wake.

Dorian watched him go, smiling the entire time. He turned to leave as well when Kurt stopped him.

“Hey, Dorian, we need to talk before you disappear on me again.”

“Oh, why's that?”

“Because there's some things I need explained.” Kurt said in a serious tone.

Dorian stopped, turned to look at Kurt, then nodded. “Sure, just give me a sec, I need to restock our fruit stores.” Kurt nodded once as Dorian systematically used his abilities to ripen the fruit off a pear, apple, and orange tree. He stretched a piece of stone out to catch everything, which he sealed in to a large sphere, roughly half of Kurt's height. As they headed back to the entrance to their little castle, Dorian used his telekinesis to roll the sphere along with them.

“Why don't you just pick it up?” Kurt asked. “Like with the telekinesis.”

Dorian laughed, “I might be able to, but I'll run all the calcium out of my bones so fast you'd need a mop.”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

“As in, without my bones holding me together, I'd be a big pile of Dorian soup.”

“That's not disturbing.”

Dorian shrugged, “telekinesis has an awful ratio, someone using it so recklessly wouldn't make it far. I'd do more with it, and if my ball of fruit wasn't so heavy I probably would just float it, but just to get this thing off the ground I'd probably break my back.”

“Wait, how's that? It's not like you're picking it up, it's all mental right?”

“Ha! I wish! Otherwise I'd just fly about, probably just fly right out of the valley and drag you along with me.”

“Wait, can't we? Just like how we entered this time bubble, can't we just, I don't know, go?”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” Dorian asked as the sphere came to a stop by the stairs that led to the front doors.

Kurt shook his head, “not exactly, but it has been on my mind.”

Dorian gave a sad smile, “after we fought against Moder, after you passed out like a dandy, I-”

Kurt punched Dorian in the arm. Dorian laughed but rubbed at his shoulder. “Ouch, you know I could fold you like dough, case you in stone, and launch you all the way across the valley?”

“Yes, but I'm your big brother. It's a private club, you just wouldn't understand. Please continue.”

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes. “After you passed out, Moder took to explaining a few things, what opportunity we have, and how I to bring back Ohmer.” Dorian reached a hand out, creating a ramp on the side of the stairs, then began rolling the stone up as he ascended the steps. “First, I had to take Ohmer into myself, at the time I was just desperate to save him, so I wasn't paying the closest attention to Moder's words.” Dorian rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. “In order to have the power to save him before I died of old age, I had to bind something else to myself.” They came up the final step, and Dorian headed straight inside, ducking to the left and rolling his ball of fruit along with him.

“On a side note, how are the fruits not going to be pulp by the time you get it in there?”

“Oh, its not hallow, I use the stone to support the fruits. They'll be fine.” They came to the cooking area, a large room with a cooking pot, stone ovens, and ample shelving for various pots, pans, and other assorted cookware. Dorian held up a hand and the top half of the stone melted downwards, revealing the fruit, and melded to the base, making a crude bowl. He tossed an apple to Kurt who caught it deftly, cleaned it on his tunic, and took a bite.

“When Bacchus first came into power, there were other Priorius, people that could challenge them. When one of us dies, we flow through the currents of Gia until we find an “empty” vessel, whatever that means. Anyhow, Bacchus has a unique ability, he's a very gifted telepath, he can literally will most anyone to do as he commands. It's basically mind control.”

“What does that have to do with Ohmer, or you for that matter?”

“I'm getting to that, what's the rush anyways?” Dorian looked worried.

“My rush? What about mom and dad? Don't you think they’re worried, even if we're gone for a few months, they'll assume we died.”

Dorian's face shifted, and his now sad expression made Kurt feel terrible. “Sorry to bring it up, but you know how they get.”

Dorian nodded, “I do. Kurt, I'm doing this for them too. Let me finish explaining, and if you don't agree then by all means, we'll go back home.” Dorian took a long breath before continuing. “As I was saying, Bacchus would compel the Priorius to take out their own essence, much like how we exchanged memories during the bonding.” Dorian pulled down the edge of his tunic, revealing the four scars that lined his chest. “Two were for Ohmer, and there will be another before this is all over. Another for you, but the first one I took in was someone else. Someone old, even older than Bacchus himself. He was there at the beginning of all of this, born before the calamity. He's in here, somewhere.” Dorian pointed to his head, “but I still have the reigns. There were others, but Bacchus did something with them, turned them in to something else or sealed them away.” Dorian started walking out of the kitchen. “Are you coming?” Kurt nodded and followed along. They made idle chatter for a bit, but Kurt knew where they were heading. Dorian had several fruits with him still, but he had crafted something like a jug around them. They made their way to the presumed destination, a high balcony that overlooked the courtyard. From this vantage, Kurt could see the rows of vegetation, mostly trees for fruits or lumber for harvest, though there were grapevines, and various herbs. The false sun was beginning to rest over the trees, and they both took their customary seats. Fine oak chairs, thrones really, with a small table between them. On it sat two glass cups.

“I think I've finally got the trick of it, by the way.” Dorian said, looking confident.

“Lets see it then.” Kurt said, bemused. This had to be Dorian's one hundredth attempt.

He set the jug down as they sat, then pushed it into the air using his telekinesis. He spun it violently, until Kurt could hear the sloshing that was coming from the inside of the jug. Then, he reached out his other hand and the air where it floated seemed to ripple, then again, until it was so intense that Kurt could feel a certain kind of chaos coming from the air. Letting go of whatever Dorian was doing, he summoned the jar to himself and unplugged the top by shaping a hole in the stone. The liquid he poured into their cups was a bit dirty, but no chunks of the fruit remained. He set the jug down, and they both lifted their glasses to clink them to the setting sun.

Kurt took a sip, it was like drinking fire. He coughed, and shortly after Dorian joined him.

“Smooth.” Kurt said gruffly as he held his hand to his mouth. “Maybe a bit too long though.”

Dorian nodded, and when he did a few of his hairs fell out. He noted it, but didn't care, finishing his drink and sitting back. Kurt wasn't inclined to be outdone by his little brother, so he finished his own as well. They spent a spell there, just watching the sun set over their little domain.

“It was Bacchus's tutor, what we would consider the first Grand Elder. He wasn't even born a Priorius, he was made one. I don't know what the three had in mind when the calamity struck, but it wasn't this.”

“So, what's it like having someone else scrambling your noggin?” Kurt asked, slouching in his chair.

“Like this?” Dorian thought at Kurt.

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. “Showoff.”

Dorian snorted, then said, “It's hazy, I have a complete understanding of some things, other things... not so much.” He shook his head but continued. “Its like when you tell a story you're really excited about, and you forget to mention all the parts that are implied to you but not to the listener.”

“Oh, so like how you tell stories?”

“Hey! My stories are good, and have variety, unlike you. How many times have you told that ridiculous story about those Shoemaker twins?” Dorian asked, sounding exacerbated.

“That's a really good story!”

“It's a really lame story, with a lame premise and bad punchlines.”

“Damn, Dorian. Don't hold back now,” Kurt said, putting his hands up.

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean. I thought the whole thing was crude before I was ten.”

“It was a fine example of when a prank goes wrong, which is why I tell the story. Your stories never have a lesson, you're great in the telling until the end, then you just flop about like a fish.” Kurt sucked his cheeks in and stared at Dorian.

“Real mature.”

Kurt nodded enthusiastically, keeping the face locked tight.

Dorian looked away, then got back on topic. “Some things, amazing things really, were such common place to him that he didn't even understand how it worked, or how to make them. Just that when he pressed the button, it came on, and from it he had access to all sorts of information. But that was all lost, and his new life began here, his mission clear. To find the balance required for homeostasis, to exist on this new world without risking obliteration or extinction. Eventually, naturally, when the valley had found balance with the environment it would release them into the next cluster.”

“What do you mean, cluster fuck? I have no idea what cluster is referencing, cluster of planets? Gods? Demons? My balls?” Kurt put his hands out like he was a balance scale.

“Did you just put your testes in the same company as planets, gods, and demons?”

“Well, I would have thrown something else in there if there was anything else up to scale.” His brows lifted, and he smirked.

“Damn it, Kurt.” Dorian shook his head, but he couldn’t help grinning. “I don’t know what the Cluster is. I don’t know much in general. But I do know that when the sun sets, I get the urge to drink strong liquor, and that Bacchus won’t stop with the Valley.”

He fell into thought for a moment before speaking again.

“He wants to undo what was released, but he doesn’t realize he’s already destroyed everything. He thinks he’ll save the world by sacrificing the Valley. Kurt, he’s close, so close that he’s willing to instigate a war, to sacrifice everyone just to end the time stream. But whatever good he thinks he’s doing, it’s already corrupted. He’s going to slaughter everyone and use the tangible soul of each of us to unleash madness on the world.”

Dorian poured them each another glass.

“That’s why I had to do this. I have to do this, no matter the cost. The voice in my head and I are merging. Sometimes I act before I even choose to, making decisions I have no right to.”

Kurt frowned. “Sounds a lot like a parasite. Are you sure you don’t have worms? I think we should cut it out before it gets any worse.” He summoned a blade of Shade, spinning it lazily on his fingertip.

“It’s not like that,” Dorian said. “Every time I’ve acted without thinking, because of him, it’s been something I agree with. I’ve felt the urge to act on several occasions now, but I still get the final say. Even so, I know this needs to be done, and I’m the one who’s here.” He exhaled sharply. “Everyone is going to lose everything anyway. That means I won’t lose anything, or anyone, that wouldn’t be lost if I did nothing.”

His grip tightened around the glass.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I’ve signed you up for something hopeless, a desperate last effort. And I’m scared. If we don’t get this right, everyone dies.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at Kurt.

“That’s you, me, Mom, Dad, Quena, Diana, Master Kel, everyone, Kurt. And Bacchus is going to do it after he takes his next body. That’s why he’s holding the tournament, a massive one. Once he’s taken on his new form, he’ll rile up the crowd, push them to express themselves, to release their energy. Then, he’ll sink the Colosseum, trapping every living soul inside and dragging them straight into the Reservoir.”

Dorian dropped his face into his hands as the last light of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

Kurt stood, summoning Gia to light the crystals lining the chamber. The room filled with a deep green glow.

“Dorian, it’s going to be all right. I know you can do this. And besides, I’ll be there.” He grinned and clapped a hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “When it comes to dastardly deeds, we are the dream team.”

Dorian lifted his head, his face lined with exhaustion.

“Kurt, when the time comes, you’ll have to find me.” He looked away, suddenly seeming much older than he was. “You’re going to leave soon, and I’ll continue alone. If you’re too old, they won’t take you into the tournament. I have to stay. And when I leave, I’m going to take out my own memories, put up a blockade against my power, and let it sit, ferment.”

He grabbed his cup, holding it up as an example.

“Like this, the power will grow when left alone. When I took on the Ancient One, most of the strength you see in me now came from him. Not that I could never reach this level on my own, but it would have taken years, maybe a lifetime. After his death, his power had been sitting, ripening for thousands of years. By the time the tournament comes, I’ll be fully attuned to his abilities. I can save us, Kurt. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. But if I fail, we all die.”

Kurt frowned. “Wait, why do you have to go? Why not stay here, improve your skill instead of just your power?”

“Skill is something I’ll develop while I’m away. Hopefully, I’ll gain allies. But if Bacchus finds out his predecessor is loose, he won’t stop hunting me. The safest place to hide is in plain sight, right there with the rest of his crop. And the tournament is when he’ll be at his most vulnerable. Whatever he plans to do to those people, whatever influence he’s going to exert, if I can push back, he’ll be weakened.”

Dorian’s eyes locked onto Kurt’s, his voice steady.

“I’ll have to break his will. You have to trust me. And when the time comes, you have to find me.”

He took a slow breath, steadying himself.

“Find me at the tournament. The Valley depends on it.”

“Fine, but only under one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“You have to beat me in a game of darts.”

Dorian wiped his face, his skin flushed red. Kurt could see the pressure weighing on him. He had faith in his little brother, but he also knew Dorian’s confidence could waver just as quickly as it surged.

“Shade darts or regular darts?”

Kurt waved a hand, summoning several black darts into his palm, and smiled.

“I don't see this storm lasting another day.” Kurt said, looking Quena in the eye. “Can I count on you, Quena?”

She looked him over again, sounding indifferent she said, “what did you have in mind?”

“We have to get my father to safety, and we have to hide. Its all going to come to a head, and I'll have to find Moder before we're done. Will you help us save the Valley?”

When she didn't respond right away, he added, “would it help if I added fame and my undying appreciation to the pot?”

Her brown eyes held his, assessing his conviction and finding it adequate to the task. She raised a finger, “If you screw this up, Kurt, I’ll kill you.”