Ranvir hesitated on seeing his friend. Sansir’s military uniform sat cleanly on his shoulders, folding in crisp lines. It differed from the usual heavier Elusrian style. Loose folds of clothing left room to move, yet didn’t bog him down in heavy fabrics. Unfamiliar insignia sat over his right breast, and knots of office gleamed in silver thread on his shoulder.
Sansir stood straight, his face pinched uncomfortably. He smelled of soap, as if he’d just bathed. His eyes hung heavy with bags, wearing lines on his face that belied his age. His slumped shoulders stiffened at seeing Ranvir, and he rested a hand on the gleaming bronze of his twin-headed axe. Fingers resting on the flat metal, gently stroking. Ranvir noted the grime worn into the grooves of his nails.
Sansir’s face tightened further as he assessed Ranvir, examining him from head-to-toe. Fingers flexing slightly on the head of his axe before relaxing. His features remained hard, the glyph-lights enhancing the bluff planes of his bald head.
His tether pulsed power regularly through his spirit. Green eyes flashing faintly in rhythm with his efforts. Though he lacked the Discipline of Body, the thrill of cold still gave some invigorating effect. At least until he numbed to it.
“Come in,” Ranvir said quietly, opening the door for his friend. Sansir’s lean form almost loomed as he passed by, before hesitating before his desk. When Ranvir took his seat, Sansir was still looking at the chairs silently debating with himself. In the end, he remained standing.
Ranvir smiled at Sansir and nodded. “So, what do you need?”
Sansir’s jaw tensed, temple flexing in the bright light of the office. “It’s about what you need.” His voice was harsh. Whether the roughness came from the fighting, yelling, lack of sleep, or other conditions, Ranvir wasn’t certain.
“And what do I need?” folding his hands on the desk, Ranvir attempted a patient look. The feeling of the scar on his face pulling against the movement left him wondering how effective it was.
“You can’t allow that kind of attack to happen again.”
“And I’ve talked extensively about it. I’m going to the capital tomorrow to talk with the Queen and we’re developing further security solutions. Even the students are chiming in.”
“And that’s enough? Do you really think the Queen is going to help? It didn’t help last time.”
“This time will be different. I can show her the power they attacked us with.”
“That’s hardly going to matter. You’re far from the Capital or any vital resources, she will not be invested in keeping the school safe.” Every word was bitten in half. Sansir’s eyes burned with a cold light that had nothing to do with his power.
“Sansir, maybe it’s time to go to bed. We’re all tired. The fighting has been rough on everyone, and we will need our strength for tomorrow.”
“Maybe it’s time to do something!” Sansir slammed a fist on the table, his power throbbing like an angry vein. “Maybe, just maybe, the Purists will see that the school fought off eight master-level tethered. All of them powerful enough to carve out their own little piece of the world. That one of us fought and killed five of them on his own!”
Ranvir took in a deep breath and stood up. A throbbing mote of yellow and orange anger toiled through his gray exhaustion. He bit back his anger and forced himself to see it from Sansir’s point of view.
“Ranvir!” Sansir slammed a hand on the desk again. “What does it look like to them?” He stood, head lowered, as if he was a charging bull, green eyes glowering, jaw set, one fist pressed into the desk, the other gripping the head of his axe as if to shatter it. “Who do they think is stationed here?”
A triplet master. That was about the only thing that could’ve possibly fought that many masters on his own. Elusria only had three of them, at least that Ranvir had sensed. He wouldn’t put it past someone like that to have the skill to hide, even from him.
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“Think it through, Ranvir,” Sansir leaned in closer, baggy eyes glowing as his spirit crescendoed. “What are they going to do next? How are they going to attack? Who will they put in danger?”
The mote sputtered in flashes of liquid red heat.
“How much damage will the Queen need before she actually takes care of it?”
The enclosing gray exhaustion ignited on the mote, roaring into greater fires.
“When does it become part of her best interest to let the fighting continue?”
Ranvir felt his own spirit twist, picking up speed, gusts turning to gale force. The orange and yellow mote sparking still further as anger took hold.
“The school? Students? Fri—“
The room exploded in storm winds. His desk slid roughly to the side, the carpet lifting and slamming into the wall. The bookcases rattled, the still sparse books tearing out of their place. Sansir slammed into the door so hard the wood groaned. He fell into a wheezing cough, blinking heavy eyes as Ranvir approached him.
The exhausted fog had gone up like old spirits, flashing into pure heat and fire in the moment. Ranvir’s wings flexed and spread, looming wide, the lights flickering as the winds picked up, hauling against the metal frames. His vulture hand locked, gripping as if seizing onto prey.
The winds pulled at his hair and clothes, droplets of rain spattering both of them. The winds bit harder as they turned arid, the moisture pulled from the air. Purple light reflected in Sansir’s green eyes, overshadowing his faint light. His tether-sense had locked onto the ice-tethered without even realizing.
Ranvir had to claw through the firestorm winds stoked by Sansir, anger howling in his ear as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Go. To. Bed.”
Space swallowed the bald man, ripping him out of the room and dumping him halfway across the school in his own room.
Ranvir turned. Breathing hard, he examined the room. Step by step, he stilled his emotions and regained equilibrium. The protective rage had rattled more than just his room. His spirit felt bruised as well, stemming from the cage at the center of his soul.
He ignored it, focusing instead on himself. Returning to basic exercises of tether and spirit control, he let the emotions push through him. The red-hot firestorm dimmed, losing first its light, then as minutes passed, its heat. Only the mote remained, but even that quieted. Dimming and revealing its true colors, a purple so dark it was almost black. Fear cracked, releasing toxic vapors through Ranvir.
He squeezed his eyes shut and endured as much of the wracking, stomach turning, fist clenching, headache inducing emotion as he could. Finally, he stepped away from it all, sheathing himself in his power, warding off what remained.
When he opened his eyes, most of the school had approached and left the still closed door. Only three remained: Pashar, Kasos, and Esmund. Ranvir stood up, hands still shivering, he began picking up books.
“Come in.”
They said nothing initially, just entered and began helping him. The room had been dry enough that the books had suffered little water damage, thankfully.
“What did he want to talk about?” Es finally asked, as shifted the rug about.
They listened carefully as Ranvir spun out the interaction for them. He spoke mechanically, numbed by the overflow of emotions.
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After talking with the Queen and then going more into detail with her Triplet Master, Saif, Ranvir made a brief stop before returning to the school. Here he picked up Pashar and turned to Sansir’s room.
They didn’t need to knock. He’d felt them coming, and he stood in the doorway. His eyes lingered on the second member of Ranvir’s party. Grev gave him a penetrating look that unnerved the icy-tethered more than Ranvir’s power had.
“You want to go to the Sleeping Sons,” Ranvir said, breaking the ice.
Sansir’s gaze flicked back to him, eyes widening. Then narrowed as he looked at Pashar. He licked his lips and nodded. “We are the ones handling the essential conflicts with the Purists. If you won’t to stop the problem, then you will need them.”
Grev snorted harshly, but said nothing.
“Let’s go, then.” Ranvir gathered a travel-space, letting them step inside. He’d had to leave Frija behind today. Though she’d seemed much recovered last night, part of her was still worried. Understandably so. He had to get this over with quickly.
He had examined a map of the region while visiting the Starstone estates. His affinity for space enhanced his sense of direction and they skimmed swiftly across the space. Vednar was a far smaller plane than Korfyi, and Elusria was a smaller country still.
Soon, they could see the Elusrian estates given to the leader of the Sleeping Sons, Asmar al-Firman. Ranvir stopped his space most of a mile from the houses outside of Master range. He didn’t know the etiquette of spatial traveling among tethered, but he assumed appearing within attack range of another person’s home was rude.
The Sleeping Sons prepared them a welcome as they walked up. A contingent of tethered stood before them, all standing ready, powers poised for performance. Ahead of them stood a single man, a handful of years older than Ranvir, with slightly thinning dark hair and piercing green eyes.
“My name is Idrees, Second-In-Command of the Sleeping Sons.” And all the tethered arranged before them let loose their power.