Ranvir chewed on a sandwich and enjoyed the view. The hill overlooked the ranging forest ahead of him, eyes catching new details with every glimpse. A strangely grown tree, so filled with knots and shoots it resembled a bark-covered boulder more than its neighbors. A fox leaping above the canopy, tiny clouds coalescing under its feet.

These lands were distant from other people. The animals in this region hadn’t seen a human in over fifty years. Often, the more curious ones would approach him, unaware of the need to hide from him.

He watched, enjoyed the weather, ate, and thought. Below him near the tree line, a rabbit scurried by, dark fur barely disturbing the brush. The critter’s disguised movement couldn’t hide from his eyes, though.

For long hours, he thought about the school. He thought about why he was doing this. Was it worth it? What did he stand to gain from it? Would he be okay not gaining anything from it? If the school never manifested to anything greater. A finished product, as it was. He sat and thought and wondered.

There was no satisfying conclusion, no vast epiphanies that shook him to his core and changed his path. In the end, he simply decided that the experience was worth the time. Which forced him to think of other things. Stuff he didn’t want to spend effort on, yet needed more.

Pashar’s role going forward. She’d broken confidence, stepped in where she didn’t belong. Overwhelmingly, his initial response was to throw her on her ass. And if that wasn’t far enough, kick her. His temper was hot, yet he’d stuck himself in the boons. Eventually, his heels cooled.

The first noticeable effect was after he finished gathering the materials he’d wanted. A pocket-space filled with items gathered from Belnavir near elements of fire. The space wasn’t large. Less than two meters in all directions, but the stones, gems, ivory, and shells he’d gathered could start a fire. Or fight off a chill. He couldn’t fight off the cold, but maybe this would make it too difficult to work.

And with that mission gone, so was his initial drive. Without something driving, he let himself sleep more. Regained rest gifted fresh perspective.

Ranvir had gone off on Sansir in the middle of the school. Only the ice-tethered and he knew the specifics, but that didn’t matter. He’d still gone off, still thrown enough power around that no student questioned what happened. Against a friend.

So Pashar had clearly been on edge. The first few days after returning from the Sleeping Sons, Ranvir hadn’t been caught. But his efforts couldn’t go unnoticed forever. Gazing the Lines as deeply as he had left ripples. Let alone for hours and hours at a time. Chatter had begun during the breaks.

If Pashar had feared he’d go off again, maybe she was right in her choice to intervene. Maybe. There was more yet to this question and he would not get his answer until he questioned her. Which he couldn’t do in Belnavir.

Which didn’t stop him from returning. With a security measure against cold and having settled his approach with Pashar, there was little to take his mind. Until he noticed bird song.

In a nearby tree, two gray little birds whistled, their tones like delicate flutes inter-playing expertly, and flew around each other. Their dance formed an intricate pattern that captivated Ranvir. He felt there was something powerful in their motions, the behavior, yet no matter how long he searched, there was neither mana nor anima involved.

It was simply the dance of two bodies and two voices, expertly interwoven into an immaculate weave. The effort and skill involved grasped at his heart in a way he’d never imagined something as ‘simple’ as nature could.

Eventually, the two singers ducked back into the canopy and a small shelter of sticks, grass, and mud. It was nothing special in terms of nest, but nor was it where they’d put their efforts.

Ranvir observed until he realized what was about to happen. He decided there were other things worth examining within his surroundings. Yet, his mind did not evade the topic quite as well as his eyes.

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Women floated behind his eyes, thoughts about each. His mind traveling in circles significantly less adroitly than the lovebirds. He felt mired in the thoughts and emotions that surrounded them. Estrid, strong, bluff, and difficult to get through to. Shiri was kinder and more sensitive, yet vulnerable.

He found his mind returning to his parents often, when the women snuck into his mind. About late dinners. Seeing them smile, seeing them laugh, seeing them dance. About late nights with dad. Tending with fresh buckets of water and washcloths. About seeing his hunched form in the morning. Hearing her cry at night.

Anger filled him, incandescent to the point of burning out all colors. A pure rage. One that left him shaking, eyes stinging, nauseous. A fire that left nothing but fine ashes drifting on the breeze, sparkling with colors too deep to pursue.

And he got no closer to an answer. At least not one that satisfied. The one who pursued no matter how he’d tried to make her stop. The one that made him pursue without thought.

Frija’s mother.

A stranger.

He flung a stone towards the tree line. From the hill, he saw it land in a puff of dirt some ten meters from the forest shadows. He flung another, putting a little more mana into it.

Sand Storm Vortex spun around him, and the stone launched high into the air. Arcing into the distance, so far even his ears didn’t pick up the impact. Yet, he saw the knotted tree shake and thought he noticed a bruise on the bark.

His breaths came harshly. The air tearing from his lungs before they inflated properly. Fists knotted, wings quivering, he slumped, falling back down again. Last time, he’d impacted the weather. The time before that kicked up a storm strong enough to drive even him into cover.

If for nothing else, then to gather mana.

It got to him. Yet as he lay down and watched the sky. Clouds drifting by in odd patterns. One looked enough like a bird to make him think of Graywing. Another looked like an anthill from his childhood. Eventually, emotions abated, leaving him emptily holding the truth.

Which he eagerly discarded and focused on better things. More interesting subjects.

He was at a standstill with his powers. Like a wall filled with framed puzzles, he’d run out of space to fit more. Each puzzle piece represented a sliver of his power, each frame a system.

Amanaris was a huge intricate frame, yet perhaps also the most efficient in form. Didn’t quite butt against Graywing’s enclosure, nor tether-space, yet there wasn’t enough room to expand either.

Tether-space’s frame was more moderate. Didn’t nearly take up the space of Amanaris, yet still bigger than Graywing’s enclosure. Tether-space provided some guidance, but limited certain growths. Could he apply some of these principles to Amanaris to create more space?

Yes, he could. In fact, he already was. Day by day, it was getting harder to generate sand material. Within a month or two, he’d be totally reliant on existing material. This should allow him to shave off a large part of Amanaris’ system. Though he’d have to do so carefully. A slow process over months, if not years, he suspected. No immediate power there.

Graywing’s enclosure was by far the most intricate frame. So densely packed, it just became a wall of noise. Yet it also held the least guidelines, as evidenced by the Belnavir people. Solidifying the space, granting it more second order material seemed to expand the space and changing behavior within it.

Interesting, since this interaction did not happen inside the other spaces. Except for forcing him to stand on the tiles he’d imported, there was virtually no effect on their spaces.

While his reserve of storm mana had not grown, it was becoming more lively, yet easier to control. The occasional movements of Graywing did not go unnoticed, either. The bird wasn’t nearly as dead as he thought.

Again, however, there was no expediency in the growth. At least, not that he could see. The smallest pieces hung on the wall. The ones taking up space, yet sat in no frame at all.

Loce was bound to Amanaris, attached to its frame, yet apart from it. Bonded to him through the system. What Loce would become, should that bond strengthen, Ranvir didn’t dare speculate. Risky, to let something else claim that much access to him.

The egg was a risk as well, though it had grown to be an unavoidable one. The remnant of Latresekt, it was violence incarnate. A spirit of war. Capable of even pushing Arkrotasia to their limits. Examining the egg, he found seepage. The spirit was still trapped, yet part of it had slipped through and touched him.

Become him. As far as he could tell, he couldn’t. At some point, the part seeping out of the egg turned into him, yet the transition was so intricate he couldn’t pinpoint it at all.

Whatever he worried might happen to him and Loce should their connection grow stronger, he worried tenfold on the egg and how bound it actually was.

There was only one real truth. Ranvir’s wall was about filled up. Frames, puzzles, and paintings. No room for another painting or expanding a frame, yet he needed more. Either he had to seriously optimize the room he had, or expand his wall well beyond its current dimensions.