Ranvir knocked on the door for formality more than anything else. He could sense Dovar in a distant area of the mansion, too far away to hear the door knocker. The double doors were taller than Ranvir, made of a dark wood. Wear and tear had set into them since he saw them last. Their varnish was peeling, and water damage had discolored it towards the hinges.

The doors were locked, but Ranvir got around them easily enough. Shaking his head, he looked around the messy entrance. There was very little furniture and no decorations to speak of. What Ranvir remembered as a long drawer had been replaced with two worn chairs, which were liberally littered with letters.

Dirt and soil had been tracked in and never cleaned, and a strong smell was permeating the house. Stale, dry air with undertones of sour, unwashed body. The stairs leading onto the second floor were as distressed and in need of care as the rest of the house.

Looking around, Ranvir quickly found a few shuttered windows to open and get some fresh air through. He vaguely sensed Dovar moving upstairs in his room, but the boy didn’t seem to have noticed him yet.

It took some searching, but eventually Ranvir found a decently sized table, big enough for a few people to sit at. He carried it into the entrance on heavy coils of stormy air, spitting water droplets in every direction. It wouldn’t matter anyway, not like a few droplets were going to make the change, half a decade of disrepair wouldn’t.

Next, he pulled the chairs out, dumping the letters onto the floor. The chair groaned under his weight, but after some tentative shifting, proved it firm enough to support him. Flexing his wings, Ranvir closed his eyes and set to waiting.

Time passed quickly while meditating, and soon Ranvir heard footsteps and sensed Dovar’s approach. Opening his eyes, he considered folding his wings back, but decided against it. If what he’d heard about Dovar, it wouldn’t matter much.

Dovar appeared on the second-floor mezzanine, coming in from the hallway to look down on the foyer. He’d changed almost as much as Ranvir had in the years they’d been apart. His hair, long and unkempt, had thinned into a widow’s peak and felt lank to his shoulders. His once broad frame had lost much of its muscle, his face appearing gaunt and tired.

Perception enhanced Ranvir’s senses, revealing the clear bands of veins that snaked up his emaciated arms. His complexion had gone pallid as well from long periods away from the light. A shade of white closer to the yellow of his nails. His clothes, moth-eaten and smelly, hung loose on his body.

Ranvir’s entire body throbbed with a reddish haze of anger, fear, and pity. His eyes tightened as they looked on each other. “I’d heard you still lived here,” Ranvir said after a few moments of silence.

Dovar opened his mouth to speak, but it came out as a croak. “Ranvir?” he asked.

“The eyes gave me away?” Ranvir asked. Usually, his eyes were glowing a bit, just from maintaining his pockets, but in broad daylight it was immediately obvious they were anything more than an odd color. Since Ayvir failed to recognize him immediately, Ranvir had funneled a little more power into his personal spaces to make sure his eyes were glowing properly.

“They did,” Dovar sounded hesitant as he approached, then ambled down the stairs.

His eyes were narrowed, as if in pain, and he was limping. His spirit was muddy to Ranvir’s senses, which was especially clear this close. It didn’t seem like Dovar’d done mortal damage to his spirit, but he was definitely dealing with some long-term complication.

“Why are you here?” he asked, stopping on the last step.

Ranvir waved at the items he’d set out before him. “Isn’t that obvious? I’m here to play chess.”

Dovar gave him an unamused look, his eyes traveling across the board. “I think you should leave.”

“Okay,” Ranvir said, resting his hands on his thighs.

They waited in silence before Dovar’s dull eyes flattened. “Leave.”

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“I think we should play a game of chess..”

Dovar took a half-step down the stairs. “I—“ he cut himself off and retreated. “No, I don’t think so.”

“I think so.”

“Go away, Ranvir,” Dovar crawled up the stairs again and retreated around the corner. Ranvir closed his eyes and returned to his meditation.

Less than five minutes later, Dovar approached again, this time peeking around the corner. Ranvir didn’t react, letting his friend sort out his emotions. Dovar was cut off, whether by himself or his circumstances, from all of his support network, and every function he’d learned to lean on. He suffered through immense trauma and was struggling with his emotions.

Dangling an option that might ease a tiny amount of his pain would be enough. Eventually.

Over the next two hours, Dovar didn’t emerge from the second floor, though he looked in close to every ten minutes. Finally, he walked around the corner, hands trembling as he stepped down the stairs at speed and hurried to the table and sat himself opposite Ranvir. “One game.”

They played one game. It didn’t last long. Despite Dovar’s obvious state, he’d still been taught chess for many years as a young noble and had played for much of his life. Ranvir had played almost every day for almost a year, before being completely cut off from the game for four.

One game turned into two. Soon, they finished their third game and were setting up for their fourth. Halfway through setting up the pawns, Dovar looked up at him. “You’re not going to ask? We’re not going to talk about it?”

Ranvir shrugged and finished his pawns. “Chess didn’t exist on Korfyi, so I’m still shaking off the rust.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dovar said harshly. “You know what I meant. About this! About everything around me? How I’ve fallen apart! You think I don’t see myself in the mirror?”

Ranvir looked up from the table and held Dovar’s eye contact. His head cocked to the side on reflex as he studied the smoke tethered. “Would it help?”

Dovar’s face twitched, and he jerked to the side as if to rise but aborted the motion almost as soon as it started. He moved impatiently for a minute before gritting his teeth, standing up and slamming the chair onto the ground. Eyes reddening around the rim, he glared at Ranvir and turned towards the stairs.

Sighing, Ranvir watched Dovar dash up the stairs. He had forgotten about his injury and his leg gave way under him with a spiritual agony that radiated from his native presence. He caught himself on the railing, wobbled, but got his balance back and limped out of sight.

Ranvir finished setting up the rest of the board and returned to his meditation. This time Dovar resisted for a far longer, his determination strengthened by fear and guilt. Ranvir didn’t move as morning turned to midday to afternoon. He would’ve remained unmoved if not for a sudden surge in Dovar’s spirit.

His spirit roared with power, smoke measuring strongly in Ranvir’s sensed. The mana far outweighed all others as Dovar pushed for advancement. He sensed the smoke tethered Disciplines draw together, sensed the strain in presence as Dovar attempted to brute force the barrier.

Ranvir lashed out with his tether-sense, shattering the attempt and carefully bringing his spirit back to an equilibrium, even if it was still damaged. Rising, he stepped through space, appearing next to Dovar on the roof overlooking the estate’s garden.

“That’s wasn’t very smart,” Ranvir said as he took a seat next to the sweating and heavily panting young man. Right at that moment, Ranvir did not feel like Dovar’s peer.

“You—you stopped me,” Dovar managed after a few moments. “Why did you—“

“It wouldn’t have achieved anything,” Ranvir said. “That’s not how you advance to the second-stage, nor is your spirit in any state to advance.”

Ranvir reached into his personal space and retrieved two packages of food. They’d long since gone cold, since he retrieved them this morning, but they were still good.

“Hungry?” he asked, offering the stuffed bread to Dovar.

The Elusrian looked at it. Examining it from all angles. “What is it?”

“It’s called pita,” Ranvir said, through a mouthful of his own. “It’s this bread they cut open stuff full of food.”

“What kind of food?”

“Meat and greens,” Ranvir replied. “And ‘tsatiziki,’” Ranvir coughed and tried again. “Tzazikit,” he shook his head. “That’s even worse. Tzatziki? That doesn’t sound right either. Anyway, it’s tasty. Even cold.”

Dovar gave him a put upon look, but accepted the handy meal. In the distance, Ranvir sensed Esmund’s signal and smiled. Dovar bit into it and gave him a complicated look. The food was far from the Elusrian standard, but it really was tasty and someone trained in diplomacy wouldn’t balk at the taste.

Sure enough, he took another bite without complaint. Then another. Soon, he was licking his fingers clean. Before he could stop himself, Dovar gave Ranvir a questioning look.

“I didn’t bring anymore,” Ranvir said with a shake of his head. “But Esmund is coming with dessert.”

“Dessert?”

There was a flash of rainbow light, and Es leapt onto the roof to join them. He’d hurried through the city using his power to get to them so fast. “Pudding!”

Dovar made a face, more related to Es’ appearance than the food, Ranvir thought. “I don’t know.”

“You have room for some pud!” Es said with certainty.

“Maybe a little bit of pud?” Ranvir said, as Es revealed the covered plate he’d brought along.

“Just a little bit,” Dovar held against their temptation like a tent would against a ton of pudding.

“Oh, what a bloody surprise, you got room for pud,” Es said with a smile.

“There’s always a little room for a little bit of pud,” Ranvir said, amiably taking his own slice.

“Just a sliver of pud,” Dovar said.

“How much are we talking? About that much pud?”

“Maybe a little more.”