Ayvir tottered off to bed, finishing the last of his nightly rituals. Changing into a white flowing night shirt, it tickled his calves as he went through a few quick stretches. His back crackled like a fireplace as he twisted in place before slumping onto his bed.
It was of far better material than any he’d ever slept in before, the benefit of trading with other planes. Rubbing the sheets between his fingers, his other hand thumped painfully. A small monkey was quietly snoring on the windowsill, looking through the shutters into the darkness beyond.
Thump, thump, thump.
He glanced at the mirror, sighing and running a hand through his hair. Was it thinning? It kind of looked like it might be. His eyes, normally dark, had taken on a strange new tint echoing the fierce burn of his Concept. With his glyph light still on, it caught the eye as a reddish-orange color, but under less direct light, they could still be mistaken for brown.
Thump, thump, thump.
His hand hurt more than normal today. Maybe he should fold the sleeve up? It might help if he put some pressure on it. Except that was a pain in the ass to do while wearing it.
Thump, thump, thump.
Pulling the shirt off, he quickly sorted out the sleeve and started folding it. The monkey, Redpaw, was making little high-pitched noises and twitching in its sleep. Ayvir smiled at the little creature. Redpaw was probably a poor name for the monkey. It didn’t have paws, neither on its arms or legs. Nor were they red.
Thump, thump, thump.
Surprisingly, most people he’d told it to simply nodded and moved on. Ranvir had grinned oddly and nodded at him like he’d done something funny. And then Frija had spoken up. Ayvir had gotten an earful more than once in his life. As a child, his parents had worn his ears thin after he’d misbehaved, but in the army he’d finally met their superiors. Frija could’ve ripped them up one side and shredded them on the other. Redpaw was a bad name.
Thump, thump, thump.
Finished folding the sleeve, he pinned it shut and slipped it on. Right until his hand pressed against cloth. Sighing, he pulled it off and removed the pin. It didn’t matter anyway. He could sleep through the pounding, anyway.
Thump, thump, thump.
Back in the nightshirt, he slipped under the covers. “Goodnight, Redpaw.” He liked the name. The little trouble-maker shifted on the windowsill, turning his back to Ayvir. Closing his eyes, Ayvir pulled the last energy out of the glyph and the room fell dark.
Thump, thump, thump.
Sleep’s fingers settled on Ayvir. Wrapping around him heated blankets. The bed cushioned him nicely.
Thump, thump, thump.
His body grew heavy and weary. Old injuries turned duller. Sensation fled.
Thump, thump, thump.
His breathing slowed down.
Thump, thump, thump.
Glass shattered, echoing through the halls of the school and driving fire into his blood. Ayvir embraced the pressure, and Redpaw began screaming. It pulled at the shutters, but they didn’t budge so easily. He’d picked the monkey for its power, not physicality.
Light infused his body, entering his Flesh, flowing like a river through an overturned bottle. People were screaming and yelling as he blew through the door and flashed down the hall.
He maneuvered the school in silence, glowing motes his only company. At one point, he passed another corridor marked with inch deep cuts into the floor. Chips of obsidian sprayed everywhere.
Then he was out, one sleeve flapping in the breeze. His tether-sense exploded, reaching into the distance. He didn’t need its help to identify the primary source of conflict.
Ranvir was fighting five masters in the sky. Energy clashing overwhelmingly. Beyond the primary conflict, he sensed more tethered. Second-stages that were rushing towards the school. Regular people as well, though they hadn’t set up an arrow volley this time.
Another person closer still. Though… there was something off about them. In direct comparison, they felt strange. Ayvir rushed forth, cursing the darkness of the night. In a full moon-cycle there were two, maybe three, nights where he needed to fret that he had enough light.
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It appeared the Purists hadn’t chosen their attack randomly. Maybe he’d showed too much of himself last time. With so little light in the sky, Ayvir gathered what he could reach into a void hovering behind him. A shadow even darker than the night, a billowing heat haze, he could do nothing about shimmering its surroundings.
He neared the strange person rapidly. Their form was strangely bulky. Small but wide and furred. Misshapen was the only word Ayvir could think of. Second-stage tethered were closing in as well however, and he had to make his choice.
The strange one wasn’t moving that fast, or even adroitly. The second-stages were.
Four of them, they were coming in quick. All on four bits of obsidian, though only one was controlling them. Ayvir’s eyes narrowed, lashing out with his Lance.
They sensed his attack, creating a wall of ice before he reached them. They were clever about it as well, trained to fight superior tethered. Despite hovering in mid-air, it was wide enough that his Lance couldn’t wash over it entirely. There would always be enough overflow that they could maintain the lift, no matter how he broke down their Discipline.
Ayvir had been trained similarly. Normally, he would simply reach beyond it, but the other tethered were adding their Disciplines to become an actual obstacle. He could fight through it eventually, though.
Ayvir sent forth all of his gathered light. A flash of red burned against the night’s darkness. The misshapen lump yelped and fell over. Ayvir’s attack moved quickly, impacting with less force than a brisk breeze. The ice snapped to steam all the same. A moment later, the tethered fell to the ground.
The obsidian clutched his face and screamed. Ayvir was on the guy next to him before he could reach his partner. Another flashed burned itself into his eyes, as the guy slumped over. Melted bone bubbled and steamed on the damp grass.
Ayvir turned his attention to the last two. One on either side. Warp and light. “What are you?” cried the light-tethered in Kisi staggering back. He wasn’t important. Ayvir turned to the last one. A woman.
It was tough to tell on her dark skin against the dim night, but she seemed to have paled. “You- you wouldn’t hurt a woman?”
Ayvir threw another flash of light, but it shattered on a rippling rainbow wall, showing her wide-eyed, fear-filled face.
“Please, I woman,” she said in broken Elensk.
Ayvir dipped around her wall and shattered her throat with a swift knuckle blow. She fell to the soil, coughing up blood. He waited for a moment to see if she got anymore in her. It didn’t seem so. He’d been trained with Anva-Diin on the front lines. She’d appeared to be a feeble woman in late sixties, early seventies. She’d liked that tactic as well.
He turned his attention to the fleeing man. He clearly lacked a physical discipline from how he was running. Though it was dark enough that Ayvir couldn’t even see him anymore, only his tether-sense kept track of him.
Lights flared wildly above him, and Ayvir’s stomach dropped. It had felt like Ranvir was holding his own, which was wild enough, but apparently the tables had turned. Somebody crashed into the fleeing tethered, throwing clods of dirt beyond even Ayvir’s reach. He looked up to see colors streaking in from five directions, thankfully none of rippling rainbow. Ranvir’s form, wings spread wide, had a dull yellow light surrounding it.
Purple light shimmered in front of Ayvir. “Get Vasso inside.” And it was gone. Ayvir blinked as black obsidian, shimmering red at the edges, lifted from the crater. The low red shimmer revealed shattered limbs in dark loose cloth. A dark-skinned man smeared in dark liquid rose from the hole, never once looking at them.
Behind Ayvir, he heard the lump whimper and struggle to its feet. Vasso, he realized, almost taking his eyes off the master. The man had gray in his hair and a well-developed second-stage Lungs on top of his Mantle.
The man glanced towards them, hesitating as he sensed Ayvir’s own strength. Then stopped entirely. Their eyes locked. One pair, a dark green, another smoldering glowing red. Ayvir was still gathering light, but even with the advantage of his alignment, he might not have enough.
He took off, not towards Ranvir, nor towards Ayvir. Away from the school. Rushing low over the ground.
Fleeing.
Ayvir realized dimly.
“Vasso,” he turned towards the boy. Letting just a hint of red leak through his store. Just enough to make out the boy’s pale face and curls. “Let’s get you inside.”
The kid looked at him in confusion. Outside the translation field, Ayvir realized, and held out his hand. Vasso looked at him, but didn’t reach for the hand. Ayvir worried at his lip, looking at Ranvir. The obsidian master had rejoined the fight ganging up on him.
How long could Ranvir hold out?
More people were pushing towards them as well. Regular soldiers, as well as more tethered. Though the masters were occupied, Ankiria still had a wild surplus of second- to third-stages.
Then a ululating cry rose from behind Ayvir and a ball of fire the size of his finger-tip flew through the dark. As it traveled, the ball grew bigger and hotter. A hand. Torso. Body. Room. Then it hit among the already screaming soldiers. It didn’t explode, instead stretching out. The flames burned lower but created a wide line, creating light and pressure on the soldiers.
More powers flared and attacks roared from the ones stepping out of the school. Teachers and students, Ayvir was surprised to realize. One Korfiyan, all the Elusrians, and two Belnavir, though they only appeared to be watching.
“Come on,” he tried again, offering his hand to Vasso. The boy still looked at him frightfully. It wasn’t until Redpaw, still ululating, leapt onto his shoulder and cheered that the kid snapped out of it.
Together, they rushed past the defenders and into safety. He set Vasso down on the floor and patted his shoulder. “You okay?”
He shook his blond curls.
“Vasso? You’re still here?” A worried and disheveled looking Laila asked, her high-pitch voice biting into Ayvir’s ears. Even Redpaw chittered at her, though she didn’t notice. Too busy checking Vasso for injuries. He was a little dirty, but seemed to be fine to Ayvir’s eyes.
He left them and went out to the defenders, standing by their side. Light and power burned within him. His eyes glowed as much as the faint pinpricks of purple in the distance. And his hand didn’t hurt at all.