Ranvir cleaned up after dinner. Spending even half an evening in his own home felt like a luxury. Laila and Shiri had been returned home and only the last of the dishes remained. Upstairs, he heard the occasional shift of paper as Vasso read, and he could hear Frija and Menace playing outside.

Sighing as he dried off the last of the cutlery, he rolled his neck. We’re gonna have to get to bed early. If Dovar and Kirs doesn’t want an early start, then the Commander will. She hadn’t seemed that well disposed to Elusrian weather. Not that Ranvir could blame her.

There was something to be said for regular day and night schedules, more consistent heat temperatures, even if the strange seasons still freaked him out at times. A minor quake had been shaking the house for most of the last two hours. The cracking was a distinctly unpleasant season, though often very short-lived.

The ground rent and tore from build up stone mana. This season was relatively small, no split wider than a child could walk across it. He wouldn’t let Frija play outside if it got any rougher, of course.

They’ll probably need to get a wide-ranging examination of the entire terrain. His mana would be the best for that, easily able to scratch out all the details they’d need. Able to raise them on platforms of hardened space and more.

He briefly gazed out the kitchen window, getting a view of the sun disk. Only a single flare remained empty. Soon even that would fill out and night would take over. Apisaon handing the plane over to Nysea. Maybe once upon a time, Ranvir thought. He hadn’t seen any signs of a god in all the years he’d lived here. Perhaps Arkrotas counted, though. If civilization was a little more primitive, they could certainly be mistaken for deities, Ranvir was sure.

Drying his hands, Ranvir quickly pulled out a little sand and swept it over the floor. Cleaning up any crumbs and spilled food. Frija was not a clean eater. Though if Vasso forgot himself, neither was he. Ranvir wouldn’t have thought it of him.

Stepping out the front door, Frija and Menace both looked up. Pouting at him, she sat down right where she was, arms crossed and head shaking. “I’m not coming in!” she yelled, turning her head away from him.

Ranvir looked at her for a long moment. He had spent time with her since the attack on the school, or he’d spent time around her. Those two were hardly the same, however.

“One moment,” he said, making his decision. In a purple flash, he was upstairs knocking on Vasso’s door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

Sighing heavily, Vasso voiced his agreement.

“Those books you like,” Ranvir said, gesturing to the one currently resting in the curly-haired boy’s lap. “Is the first one too much for Frija?”

Frowning, Vasso shook his head. “I don’t think so. There’s a bit of violence here and there, but nothing graphic.”

Ranvir nodded. “We’re going to do a sleepover thing in the meditation room. Want to come along?”

The teenager considered for a moment, before nodding and getting off his bed.

“Grab the book, by the way.”

“Duh.”

Ranvir fished out a pad of paper and wrote a quick note.

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

I can’t come to the office today. I’ve accidentally spent quality time with my children and stayed up way too late.

-Apologies, Ranvir

Kirs threw her hands up in defeat, nearly hitting Es in the face.

“Whoa,” he muttered, dodging her unplanned attack. “Careful.”

“He’s out?”

Kirs sucked air in through her teeth. She’d come to him asking for help with something so delicate and he just stayed away! She should box him around the head until he could see good sense.

“Don’t smile like that,” she grumped, which only made Es chuckle and wrap his arm around her waist. She scowled at him, attempting to stay mad. She felt herself sliding from frown to pout and pulled out of Es’ arms. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, realizing she was mirroring his crooked grin.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Goddess, he looked good like that. Hair tussled from sleep, in his uniform, yet enough undone that he revealed just his collarbones.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “We’ll go find Dovar. That’s what he’d tell us, anyway.”

She let him drag her along. He looked even better from behind.

“Yah!” Es cried, jumping around the corner to Dovar’s hallway. He slapped Kirs’ hand away, creating a loud smack that echoed slightly in the passage. Dovar stood opposite an Ankirian in their loose military outfit. She wore her outfit crisply, not a fold or hair out of place. Her boots, the woman’s only capitulation to the Elusrian weather, were shined and clean.

Dovar, on the other hand, had half his hair wet, a pair of pants without a belt and bare feet. He squinted through one eye, where Kirs could clearly see tracks of soap had run into it. A bit of scruff covered his face from not shaving for a couple of days. The army didn’t require someone to shave every day, but often enough that Dovar would be pushing it.

“Lady,” he said, hunched shoulders bunching imposingly in what Kirs recognized as an attempt at placating her. “Can I just finish my bath? I’ll be right there.”

“When I told you first light, I meant it, Soldier!”

“Whoa,” Es said, stepping between them. “First, it’s not dawn, yet. Second, he’s not your soldier. Third, this isn’t the army, we’re not military.”

“And who…” she trailed off, staring at Es. At his eyes. Into his eyes.

“Hey,” Kirs cut in, stepping between the Ankirian and her husband. She was shorter than the Ankirian.

“And you…” the lady took a step back.

She better.

Shaking her head, she looked from one to the other. Her lips worked, but Kirs couldn’t hear what she was saying. I’m being silly, she thought. It’s all that tension between Ranvir’s girls that’s getting to my head. She chortled at the notion. Ranvir’s girls. He’d have died if someone had told him about that four years ago. He might die today.

“I’m Kirs.” She offered the Ankirian a hand. “I’m supposed to help facilitate the defenses.”

Visibly shaking herself, the lady took her hand. “Commander Tulaiha of the Sleeping Sons.”

“Sons?” Es asked. “That was not the impression I’d gotten.”

Tulaiha snorted and shook her head. “How is that your eyes look like that? Are they not the mark of us? Yet, your color is different. Tell me, is Ranvir older than I thought? Has he hidden himself from us for so long?”

Es snorted a laugh so hard, snot shot out of his nose. His giggles broke off as he stuck his neck out at an awkward angle, holding his mouth open in shock. Kirs rolled her eyes and pulled out a napkin. He caught it out of the air and wiped his face clean. Giving her a thumbs up, he stuffed it into his pocket.

“I’m not Ranvir’s son. Although…” He drew the word as he considered. “No, I’m way too funny.” Mana flashed through him for a moment, his eyes flashing into a rainbow, red, blue, yellow, and green flashed across his iris before dulling to his normal discolored brown.

Though she loved his eyes now, it had taken some getting used to after he’d managed spiritual alignment. Not that they’d known what he’d done back then. He only had a few of Ranvir’s notes, complaints, and the knowledge that it was possible to go on.

Dovar’s door opened again, Kirs only now realizing he’d shut it. Dovar looked much improved. His eye was still red, yet he wasn’t squinting. His jaw was shaven, and he had a proper uniform on.

“Let’s go look, then.” He said, looking them over. “Ranvir not coming?”

“He’s taking a day with his kids,” Es explained, before Kirs could complain. Not that she would. She would not importune her point to them when it wouldn’t help.

Commander Tulaiha sighed and ran a hand over her hair, pulled back into a strict and straight bun. “Is there no order here?”

“We try not to,” Es said.

“I wish there was,” Kirs muttered.

Es smiled and kissed her on the cheek before skipping ahead. His sleep-tossed hair bouncing oddly as he nearly skipped down the black obsidian path.

“We’ll provide enough of a troop to sustain the initial attacks and then some,” Tulaiha said. Dovar and she continued arguing over the specifics of what that meant. They’d drawn out a map of the near-lying area.

“I don’t know what that means until I can get plans laid out. I can’t get plans laid out until I know what kind of manpower I have. If I say ‘put a shield wall surrounding the school,’ will you give me the men to do that?”

The Commander scoffed, describing perfectly how stupid that question was without ever saying a word.

“What would the ideal terrain look like?” Kirs asked, standing next to the map.

“That’s a fool idea, girl.” Tulaiha said, earning a scowl from Es. Kirs ignored her, instead pointing at the rough sketch they’d outlined after both flew over the field. Tulaiha, as a ghost of gray smoke, Dovar flying on thin air. “Forming the terrain using obsidian will only be used against you. Any fool hill you make just becomes a barrage waiting for the first tethered to reach it.”

“What if we didn’t make it of obsidian?” Kirs said, ignoring the older woman’s digs.

“And how would you propose to gather enough obsidian off-shoots to create a hill of dirt within the time allowed? Most would struggle to get out of here.”

“Just show me the ideal terrain. I will make it happen.” I hope. She narrowed her eyes as Dovar began working. No, not hope. I will complete this task. I will show her and everyone just how much there is yet to gather from rituals.

She realized Es had crept up behind her and gently taken hold of her elbows. Her arms were crossed over her chest, tapping chalk against a board. They were still good for temporary notations. The pressure of his hands lifting her was steadying in a way she hadn’t realized she’d needed. For a moment, it felt like her spine turned to jelly.

“With a hill there, we could funnel them into a path like this.”

“That would leave…”

Kirs tuned them out as she leaned back into Es’ muscular chest. “I love you.”

“You’re pretty cool, as well,” he pecked her cheek and she could feel his grin against her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, guilt writhing in her stomach.

His grip hardened for a moment, before a deliberate sigh released the tension. “Don’t be.”