A weight was settled on Ranvir’s chest, warm and spread out as if to lock him in place. A breath, soft and slow, worked through the blanket and onto his chest. He remained in bed, sensing the world without his eyes.

It was different. Perception had changed. Or his body had and Perception was taking advantage of it. Smells filled his bedroom. Old ones, his sweat, a hint of soap lingering on clothes, and the pervasive smell of Menace.

Below that lay both fresher and older trails. Vasso, someone had moved his bed into the room, slept soundly near to them. Faint traces of Graywing, gone for a long time now, yet still lingering.

In the kitchen, he heard Kyriake washing up. She was preparing her approach, her tether-sense gently probing to make him aware. Pashar sat in the living room, working on papers. Her spirit was focused, finely honed.

Sighing, he sat up, rubbing at his neck. Whatever changes he’d gone through releasing Latresekt’s spawn must have been temporary, though he felt the cold metal like feel of plates against his sternum.

Frija groaned and pulled tighter against him. He rumbling low in his chest and carried her as he rose from the bed. “I got you,” he muttered into the messy red fringe intruding on his vision. Below his bed, a long tail curled up once and Menace’s peeked out, yellow cat eyes gleaming in the dark.

Ranvir swallowed and turned to look at the other bed, awkwardly placed with its head against the wall. Vasso’s curly head of blond hairs emerged from the blankets and Ranvir tugged it down to check on him. Restive, he breathed deeply, blissfully unaware of the world.

Smiling, Ranvir flicked his ear. Vasso’s cheek twitched, and he squirmed momentarily before calming himself. “You want me to carry you, too?”

Vasso groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. Ranvir laughed, which caused both Frija and Vasso to groan in complaint, pressing deeper into their respective covers. He glanced into the mirror. Someone had replaced his clothes and washed him up.

His face was clean shaven despite the long days, weeks really, fighting. His eyes, a muted brown tinted towards purple, stared back at him. Strange, he thought. It had been so long since he’d last gone without his power that he forgot his eyes didn’t always glow like that.

Even as he thought it, he embraced the pressure. Power welled into him, suffusing his tether-space and turning his eyes. Bleeding from the dull muddy brown, they first grew brighter, then started glowing. Finally, it grew bright enough to reveal the runnels now running through his eyes. Like a shattered plate, tumultuous gray and tan shooting through his iris.

“Your eyes are different,” Vasso groaned, sitting up and stretching. His thin frame and olive skin were exposed to the waist as he ruffled his hair. His comment caused Frija to look up at him. She blinked sleep-swollen eyes, then shook her sleep-swollen head and rested once more against his neck.

“Put a shirt on,” Ranvir said, gesturing to his closet.

Vasso groaned and shook his head. “Why?” He glanced at the closet. “You’re too big for me.” There was a hint of jealousy and perhaps annoyance in his tone.

“I’d suggest you do it, anyway.”

Groaning and mildly mocking him, Vasso trod to the closet, took one look, and sighed. “Nothing fits.”

“That’s an interesting new development,” Kyriake said, opening the door and seeing Ranvir’s eyes.

Vasso yelped, leaping for his blanket. His knee hammered the bed frame, and he fell across the bed. Groaning, he curled up and halfway covering his bare chest against the woman’s indifferent stare. She gave him a single raised eyebrow.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“What’s up with him?”

“If you have to ask, you won’t understand.”

Kyriake gave him the same look, then softened. “How are you holding up?”

“Can insane people tell if they are insane or not?”

“Could she?”

“What are you talking about?” They both glanced at Frija.

Vasso slowly crawled to hide under Ranvir’s bed next to Menace. His face flushed so deeply crimson it looked like he might pop.

“My new eyes,” Ranvir said after a moment.

“They are insane?”

“They certainly look strange.”

She shook her head and began pushing away from him, so he let her down. “You have to play with us.” The moment she touched the ground, Menace emerged from the bed. Vasso yelped as the massive cat forced him out by sheer bulk.

Ranvir looked to Kyriake. “One hour,” she said.

“One hour and then we’ll play all day.”

“Wai—“ Kyriake said, but was interrupted by Frija’s cheer. She sprinted around her legs, Menace, twice as wide and ten times as heavy, following. “He is growing too big,” she grunted, recovering her balance. “I meant you can play with her for an hour.”

Ranvir took a deep breath and smiled. “I know.”

Walking to the window, he opened it and reached out. The comforting heat of Korfyi had almost been forgotten during his time in Vednar, but now, arm out-stretched into the light, he felt it strongly. Graywing burst free. Mana and power surging into the sky, culminating as the vulture screeched and took form perching on the roof above.

Next came Loce. The locusts streamed from him in a gentle wave, splitting into three groups. One part layering over the nearby land, the other reaching to Eriene looking for his friends, and the last part pulled Vasso from out of hiding, covered his form and returned him to his room.

In the mirror, his shattered eyes changed, the runnels of power dulling to the regular brown.

“What’re you going to do about that?”

Ranvir frowned. “Glasses?”

“Be serious.” Her tone brooked no compromise on this part.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shrugging. “It’s hard to take it too seriously. I’ll figure it out.”

“It’s my understanding no one has ever recovered from that.”

“Me too. Let’s go see what Pashar is working on.”

Entering the living room, the smoke-tethered was already cleaning up. “You’re finally awake.”

“Hope I didn’t sleep for too long.”

She shook her head. “You’ve gotten some missives. Letters from both Minul and Saif, the Sun King.” She waited a moment to make sure he understood that gravity of that. Yet, somehow, it didn’t really matter either. “As well as a letter from King Phormos, who was masquerading as Morphos.”

Ranvir winced at that. “Sad to see him go, then.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Kyriake crossed her arms. “Phormos is as duplicitous as Arkrotasia comes. He’s more devious than the Kaesara and nearly as ruthless as Bacenor.”

“Really?” Ranvir asked, his eyebrows rising.

Kyriake nodded. “He abandoned the meeting of the Arkrotasia to join your school. Upsetting the balance of the most powerful people in the nation. People like them do not simply disappear. If either Bacenor or Kaesara Isadora took offense, or his officials panicked, as it stands, supply lines got interrupted and the potragodes haven’t been running for near two weeks.”

Ranvir frowned and looked down at the letters Pashar was now proffering him. “This is going to be political, isn’t it?”

Kyriake placed a hand on his shoulder. “Intricately and intensely.”

Ranvir sighed. “Can I stop it?”

“You are high-Urityon, borderline Arkrotas, hold the only current connection between multiple worlds, and have the loyalty of one of the most accomplished members of the Inner Eye. Your existence is political. If a place where opportunists can’t find exists, I don’t know of it.”

Ranvir gazed at Kyriake for a moment, then nodded and turned to Pashar and the three letters. “What do the letters say?”

“It’s mostly assuring alliances,” she explained. “They are essentially all approaching it as if you’ve already agreed to join them and are hashing out details.”

“Minul and Saif are acting separately?” then he shook his head. “Why haven’t any of them taken over the connection yet?”

“I broke the entrances,” Kyriake said, moving to take a seat on the couch.

Ranvir nodded. “We’ll have to expand the school’s premises before we can open it again.” He rubbed at his forehead. It would be dark outside the building. Would he have to make a sun?

He shook his head and straightened fully. “If we cannot avoid these political games,” he glanced between them. Pashar shook her head and Kyriake rolled her eyes. “Then we’ll have to convert the school into a plane of its own.”

They both blinked at that.

Pashar leaned forward, eyes intent on him. “Is that possible?”

Ranvir shook his head, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Pashar, after the months I’ve had. I haven’t the slightest comprehension of what’s possible.”