Ranvir sent images and impression through the layered barriers and chains that sheltered and trapped the spirit of war inside himself. Moments later, images slipped past the cage and emanated into him. Echoes of the very same ideas he was feeding it.

Fortress walls, bricks wide as a man stacked by the dozens. Shields made of gleaming red-tinted tane-steel, so strong only the Arkotasia could break it. But also other images, things Ranvir didn’t send towards it. A line of trees forming a windbreak, protecting a field from gusts of wind. Fences capturing sheep, yet keeping them within reach of the shepherd. A huge cat, hackles up and fangs bared, crouching over an indistinct girl.

This ‘echoing’ of images and concepts was a recent occurrence, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He was certain Latresekt had some malicious intent by leaving a seedling of itself behind. It was a spirit of war and stories of the Red Raid chilled Ranvir to the bone. Yet, it never once showed any signs of aggression. The only hint of violence came as images deflecting or protecting others from it.

More worrisome was the realization that it could send images back to him. It could somehow pass messages through all the defensive constructs Ranvir had created to contain it. Getting messages inside was one thing. The shields were meant to restrain and were a part of him. The seedling getting past it spoke to spiritual developments that worried Ranvir.

With a sigh, he retreated from the nugget of power nestled between his other three spaces. He felt an excited, and mildly irritated, tugging coming from Amanaris. Specifically, the connection to his physical flesh.

“I know, I know,” he muttered, emerging fully.

His office was colder than he’d expected. He’d left his window open and the evening chill had set in harder than he’d expected. Shaking his head, Ranvir closed the window, chastising himself for not keeping better track of his body. He grimaced at the slight flare of spatial mana as he pulled the shutters tight and headed outside.

Walking down the now well-lit corridors of the school, Ranvir avoided the populated areas. He didn’t want to get bogged down in conversation at the moment. The students had clocked that he was one of the more knowledgeable teachers for their general studies than the others. Some of them even thought he was the best, despite Kasos often standing right next to him.

Yet, it was most often the Old-man’s students who went to Ranvir when they had the chance. He wished he knew what Kasos had told them, just so he could disillusion them and sick them on the Old-man.

Ranvir hadn’t been sure of the test initially, but it had yielded excellent results. The two students who’d failed had made decent progress in the short time since then. The bonded had just needed to open her mind to how she could use water mana, while the braced developed an explosive Ability to throw the sand off.

Estrid had borderline failed the test. Mostly in her approach to it. Instead of attempting to overwhelm the pressure of the sand, she’d attempted to fight him with her tether-sense. In the end, Ranvir decided it was an interesting path that no one else attempted.

Perhaps because they knew it wouldn’t succeed, which it also didn’t for Estrid. Though he warned her that next time, she’d have to actually achieve escape. She had taken little better than their spar before the test.

Ranvir paused at the door, hand on handle. She would be outside, practice-fighting with the other Elusrians. Maybe it was better if he went elsewhere to let Loce out. He shook his head. Or maybe it was the excuse he needed to go talk to her.

The evening air was even colder outside than it had been in his office. Immediately, the screech of shattering ice split the air, as well as cheering and whooping. His tether-sense picked up the two combatants, and he paused for a moment. One of them was the fire braced who’d failed the sand-pit.

Holding his human hand to the side, sand started piling from it, Loce writhing free from his body and spirit. Soon, a swarm of insect ascended into the air, hurling towards the grasslands. Ranvir knew Loce could eat, but it preferred to just act like locusts.

Estrid’s group burst into cheers and clapping as they bunched up on the two fighters in the middle. Ranvir saw one of the Elusrians, barely in his twenties, take the balding thirty-year-old fire-braced by the shoulders and shaking him and whooping loudly. The older man smiled, stuck between embarrassment and happiness.

They only celebrated for a moment, then split into watchers and fighters. Two Elusrians this time. Ranvir noticed Estrid’s tether-sense washing over him none-too-gently. She soon stepped away as the sparring began. Ranvir was pleased to note that they weren’t going all out. It seemed to be a place for experimentation and practice as much as fighting.

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Estrid walked towards him. Her hair pulled back into a bun, her chin lowered, and jaw set. She looked as if intent on charging through a wall. A few people followed her with their eyes until they saw him. From the distance, Ranvir could see their surprise, but none followed her.

Good. Then this will be a little easier, Ranvir thought.

Estrid stopped a few paces away from him, staring him down as if she intended to fight him again. Her spirit rippled and shook as if under violent assault, a deep set yearning for distance clear in every attempted disengagement. Yet she held her ground.

Sickening yellow bubbled from the soil of Ranvir’s mind, claws digging in the ground and hauling the rest of its bloated guilty form up behind it. Wobbling and filthy, the guilt slid across dark passages.

“How are you holding up?”

Her brows drew further down.

“I’m sorry about the spar, earlier. It might have been harsher than I intended. Or at least, worse than I wanted.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but her spirit eased a little. Before she could say anything, a low-flying swarm of sand-colored insect buzzed so close overhead their passing lifted strands of Ranvir’s hair.

Estrid stared after Loce as it settled on a new patch of grass. Her tether-sense followed, settling on it for a moment before returning to him. “They- that? Feels like you?”

Ranvir sighed and looked towards the swarm. “Part of me, yes.”

“That’s… I don’t know how to feel about that.”

Ranvir chuckled. “You’re not alone.”

“They looked fucking big, also sort of like one thing?”

“Loce is a storm locust, a creature of sand-mana. It takes the form of many individual insects. And its individual form is about the length of my palm.”

She stared after it and shook her head. “Unbelievable. I never knew.”

“Never knew?”

She turned back to him. Her eyes had transformed into huge glittering orbs, reflecting the orange light of the fading sun in her brown eyes. They seemed to have a pull all their own as she spoke. “Mana, power. There is so much more to being a tethered than I’d ever imagined.”

Ranvir grinned and watched as parts of Loce meandered in tiny leaps that barely cleared the grass. It didn’t move in unison, but more like a wave passing over the land. A soft buzz vibrated up from the covered ground.

“Anyway, I just came to check up on you. I wanted to make sure everything was fine after the fight and test,” Ranvir said.

Estrid rolled her eyes and waved him away. “Don’t even worry about it.” That seemed like all she was going to say on the subject. “Though I was surprised you wanted to do it. You seem to hate fighting.”

Ranvir looked at her for a long moment, considering. “I don’t hate fights. It’s just fighting. There’s not much more to it than that. But I also don’t love it and shine it with romantic colors.” There was a sharp rise in the buzzing sound, overpowering the sound of his voice. Ranvir waited patiently for Loce to finish and it soon did, calming once more. “I try to look at it through clear ice. No distortions.”

Estrid looked toward the locust from the corner of her eye, before returning to him levelly. She sniffed and admitted, “It was jarring. I think you know, but the closest I’d ever come to a legitimate fight was the riots,” she kicked at a clod of grass and soil. “And I never even went beyond the walls of the school. My parents want me to be a prudent girl. I’m the only tethered in my family, so they wanted me to just finish with the Royal School and be a good girl.”

She swallowed and Ranvir got the feeling that it was difficult for her to meet his eyes. “I knew they were wrong. I’d never even questioned it since I was fourteen. Yet, when you lifted me off the ground, and that…” her eyes welled and she looked away. “I was questioning myself for the first time.”

Ranvir scrutinized her. Tall and strong, yet unable to meet his eyes. Tears gleamed on her cheeks, yet she didn’t wipe them away. “And what was your answer?”

She sniffed and steeled herself, visibly and spiritually. “You’re not that scary,” she said, turning fierce dark eyes on him.

Ranvir smiled and looked toward Loce, who’d found some bushes to rattle. “That’s good to know.” In the distance, he heard the door open and shut, followed by shaken cursing.

A calloused hand landed on his forearm, fingers gently resting against his skin. Ranvir followed the fingers up to Estrid’s intent face. “And you didn’t scare me off,” her voice left no uncertainties as to her meaning. Ranvir’s wings bristled, a cold rush of livid energy chilling his blood.

He shook his head and took a step back. “I don’t think so.”

She quirked her eyebrows and turned to Loce. The storm locust had gathered into a pile resembling a three meters tall cresting wave, all pointed toward Estrid.

She took a step closer and Ranvir turned around, his stomach flipping. “I gotta go. Vasso’s looking for me.”

“Now who’s scared?”

Ranvir ignored her and walked towards his son’s approaching form. If he was walking fast, it was only because Vasso appeared in distress. Nothing more.

“Dad! Dad! Oh no!” Vasso mumbled and nearly tripped. “I messed up!” he stopped and rubbed his hands together. He was shaking from top to bottom, looking as if he was going to fall apart. “Oh, no…”

“Vasso, hey,” Ranvir said, crouching and grabbing his shoulder. Vasso was right at that height where crouched felt slightly too low, but bending over would be demeaning. “I’m here. What’s happening?”

Through half a dozen false starts, Vasso finally answered him. “I… I asked Laila out! Oh, Dad, this is bad…” he grabbed at his curly blond hair and pulled. “Oh, no…”

“She said no?” Ranvir asked, worried she’d laughed at him.

Vasso shook his head.

“She said yes?”

He nodded. “I thought it was over.” Vasso cradled his stomach as if he was going to be sick. “It was supposed to be over. But I feel even worse.”

“Are you excited?”

“This does not feel like excitement, Dad.”

“Nervous?”

This only seemed to derail him into a series of stuttered half words before nodding.

“Do you want a hug?”

Nod.

Ranvir held him.

“Do you still want to go out with her?”

Nod.

“Do you want help to plan it?”

Nod.

I am so not the man for this, Ranvir thought, as he held his son.