Ranvir turned the corner just in time to find Dovar pacing the hall, gnawing at a knuckle. It was a new one, for sure, but Ranvir wasn’t sure it wasn’t warranted. Dovar’s eyes were dark and heavy with bags from lack of sleep. His hair was freshly cut and short enough that very little could change its appearance.

His dark eyes seemed to stare vacantly into the distance as he walked the length of the corridor. Ranvir couldn’t help but wonder the urge that started one biting at their own knuckle, but thought now might not be the time. Dovar had gained some of his previous muscle of the last three months, which immediately made his enormous frame seem all the more imposing as he stalked dark corridors.

“Amalia said you were pacing,” Ranvir called, as Dovar turned.

Hastily pulling his hand out of his mouth, Dovar gave Ranvir a surprised look. “Ranvir? It’s not time, yet? Is it already… I haven’t even changed. I’m not ready. This isn’t good.” Dovar took off before Ranvir could get a word in, so he was forced to follow as Dovar headed into his room.

“I’m early. I wanted to check up on you.”

Dovar straightened from his dresser and looked at Ranvir. “Oh. That’s good. Better.” His hand rose, but he caught it with his free hand. He was still fidgeting at the same knuckle, only with his fingers this time.

Ranvir made a decision. “Grab your clothes.”

Dovar frowned, but did as asked. Ranvir took them before he began changing and tossed them into a bag and took Dovar into one of his largest pocket-spaces.

“Ranvir, we’re not doing what I think we are, right?”

“Are you thinking about training?”

----------------------------------------

Sand swirled around Ranvir as he slowly pushed through the last of his Ability, forcing his control to match. It was difficult; the effort leaving him sweating and his spirit trembling.

At the opposite end of the room, still in his uniform, Dovar was pushing air around. His Concept changing smoke to wind. Dovar’s wasn’t an offensive power, though he wasn’t useless in a fight.

The wind was strong enough to bowl someone over or knock them around, but would struggle with taking someone out. Especially if they had a little more durability than normal. Though he could control a battlefield, he wouldn’t be the one who ended the fighting.

That was probably for the best. From what Ranvir had seen of Dovar, he wasn’t a hard soul. He couldn’t take the kind of obsidian edge that sometimes was needed in combat. Ranvir wasn’t sure he was either, just that he might’ve broken in just the right way to provide a hook to claw with.

He summoned another Dune Blow. The sand rustling and whispering as it moved with his strike.

Amanaris

***

Dune Blow 351 -> 352

Ranvir dismissed the window, letting the wave of sand fall to the ground. He assumed a ready position once more, moving the Ability as slowly as possible. Wind swirled around him, picking grains of sand up and swishing them into the air.

They flew over to Dovar, carried on a wind as he practiced his own techniques and skills. He was much more fluid as befit a tethered. Ranvir didn’t practice his spatial techniques often, mostly finding the ones he used to be well within his control.

He was also dealing with a lot less power than his other to mana-typings. His storm-mana was similar to tethered training, much more free-form, though he was practicing the Storm Bolts, like he was Dune Blow.

It worked alright. Not as effective as his Amanaris-derived Abilities, but it gave some results, though he jumped straight to Storm Bolt, almost instinctively. Compared to Dovar’s wind, Ranvir’s storm had a lot more mass to it, which certainly helped with the ability to hit things.

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The Storm Bolts were almost little storms on their own. With enough water to hit like a physical blow and wind to send it flying at dizzying speeds. Ranvir reset his stance and repeated the Dune Blow once more.

“Ranvir?” Dovar asked, breaking his rhythm. After a moment, Ranvir let the sand fall and turned to his friend.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re gloomier than usual.”

Ranvir straightened, frowning at his friend. “What does that mean?”

Dovar paused and reconsidered his words. “You’re less excited. Usually, you’re… more energetic, even when doing those ridiculously repetitive exercises.”

Ranvir’s expression darkened further, and he readied a response in return but caught himself before speaking. He was more irritable than he’d initially thought. Maybe Dovar was right. He took a few long moments to consider his friend’s words.

“Yesterday,” Ranvir said slowly, masticating the sentence before letting it emerge. “I was talking with Morphos and he said something. I guess it’s bothering me.”

He hesitated to continue. Dovar straightened, looking almost eager for a moment, before fully turning to look at Ranvir. He even dropped the pressure, leaving his powers behind.

“He mentioned the Arkrotasia, how they would react to the bridge I’d created between the planes. I guess it’s bothering me more than I thought.”

“Arkrotas, that’s the strongest ones, right? Stronger than Masters?”

Ranvir nodded.

“So they are as strong as Saleema?”

Ranvir hesitated. “Yes.”

“Couldn’t you just close the bridge? If the King whatever didn’t want it?”

“I guess,” Ranvir said, wincing at the thought. “I guess I don’t much enjoy the idea that they get to control what I can and cannot do.”

Dovar shrugged. “There’s always going to be something. If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time as a noble, it was that politics only gets worse with more power. There’s always going to be people that want things from you, people who want nothing to do with you, and so on. It’s best to figure out what you can live with and let the rest go. Don’t reach beyond your means.” There was an uncomfortable edge to his last words.

Ranvir had approached Dovar as he spoke and now let his hand rest on Dovar’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he let the silence and companionable touch linger.

After a minute, he cleared his throat and said, “It’s time. Get changed. I’ll be waiting outside.”

Ten minutes later, a nervously fidgeting Dovar emerged into a park in the middle of the Elusria-City. Autumn was getting into its routine, yellow, orange, and reds becoming prominent as the seasons changed. Some particularly windy corners of the grassy, tree covered plain already had a carpet of fallen leaves. Granted, it there were a few cavities and holes, but summer had truly ended.

The sound of play was prominent as ever, despite the chill in the air, children and families relaxing as they enjoyed the last rays of sunlight before the gloom of winter settled in the region.

At one table sat two women. The first was a young girl, around fourteen years old, with long dark hair that covered the length of her back in a loose curtain of obsidian. She had a slightly pinched expression on her face as she occasionally looked up from the table. Ranvir didn’t sense any power on her, though he didn’t think she’d actually attempted to awaken.

It was a minor distinction, one that he wasn’t always sure he actually could pick out. Most of the time, he simply looked at age and made a guess, but she was in the unique position of potentially not having undergone the ceremony if she so chose.

“Go,” Ranvir said, patting Dovar on the back and gesturing him toward the picnic table.

Dovar audibly gulped, like he was a character in one of Frija’s children’s tales. Except there was no hint of humor in his body or face as he took staggered steps toward the two figures.

The second woman noticed him and got to her feet. She hugged him and noted how good he looked before leaving to let the two have some space. Dovar sat down opposite his sister as the older woman approached Ranvir.

“You really did it,” she said. Gudfrid had much the same hair as her niece, though hers was cut below her shoulders and gray was setting in at the roots. She had a kindly face, marked with the beginnings of crow’s feet and smile lines. She had a wide mouth that took to smiles easily. “I didn’t really believe you when you said it, but there he is…”

Gudfrid, Dovar’s aunt, had been disinherited by her father when she married for love. She had in one fell swoop neatly been cut off from politicking and backstabbing, while also arranging for herself a happy life. It had cost her much of her family and decades of labor, but she seemed not to mind at all.

“I told you, he was the one who asked,” Ranvir said. “He just wanted me to arrange it.”

Dovar glanced in Ranvir’s direction and asked his sister if she wanted to go for a walk. Asny was indifferent to the request, though Ranvir noticed she too fidgeted with her knuckles. They got up and started walking away.

“Is she… receptive to renewing their relationship?” he asked after a moment.

Gudfrid sighed. “That’s difficult to say. The day after I told her about you reaching out, she cried for hours. She’s not had it easy these last few years, but she’s been improving. I hope she can let him in, but I will not attempt to force it.”

Ranvir nodded, watching as Dovar and Asny disappeared behind a few trees. Their body language didn’t scream with excitement. “I wish them the best.”

Part of Ranvir wanted to leave and avoid overhearing anything he shouldn’t, but the visit could end more suddenly than expected and he didn’t want to leave Dovar alone for too long. So he stayed, talking with Gudfrid. Mostly about children. She had four girls, the youngest in her late teens, so she had plenty of experience to hand out.