61 - Leaving The Spirit Well

Twenty two days into our occupation of the Spirit Well, the security door’s scripts stopped functioning. 

After getting that… concerning news from Dross, I went on a milk run with Palutin and Dolph to refill our supply of Dream Well water. We had initially filled four barrels out of the nine we had carried. I was now in the process of upgrading that to five; the Dream Well’s water had proven itself so much more valuable than I had ever predicted. 

“Oi, you done yet?” Palutin grumbled, as my Ruler tools refilled the barrels, one globule of liquid after another. “Your constructs flow slower ‘n my grandpapy’s piss on cold winter morning.” 

“I won’t let my babies take criticism from someone who smells like wet fish,” I said, giving him a side-eye. “I put my life savings into these things, they don’t deserve insulting. I’ll kill you.”

“Old fishermen never die, they just smell that way,” Palutin grinned, and it was all teeth. He looked like an orphaned kid of the worst kind, like something between a homeless vagrant out of a desert and a backalley purse-snatcher. “And if you did, you’re poorer ’n a seagull.”

I flipped him a halfhearted bird. “Fuck off, midget.”

Marigold, the giant red rabbit with aura akin to a small firestorm, thumped her paws on the ground angrily and then chirped and chittered out some absurd attempt at language. Whatever it was, it was short, and probably an insult–especially since Palutin, after a pause, started laughing uproariously. At me. 

I sighed, and thought forlornly of the current state of my account at the Naru bank. Poorer than a seagull, huh? Sadly, accurate.

Still, I had, ah, hopes for fixing that situation. Just these barrels of Dream Well water alone could sell for a king’s ransom on the outside, not that I had any plans of actually selling. Nothing beyond a couple of vials at least. We had enough to spare on that. As for the Life Well, I had predicted that the Life Well might not be able to fill three barrels, and that prediction was accurate. We were now down to a barrel and two thirds. That left us with two barrels leftover that we had dedicated to the Spirit Well. We had also found a reasonably intact barrel in one of the dream tablet library’s storage rooms, and after some spit and ducktape (and salvaging for parts from a few other barrels), we now had an extra barrel of Spirit Well water jammed (very tightly) into Ekeri’s former void key. That made for ten barrels in total: five for the Dream Well, three for the Spirit Well, and two for the Life Well. .

In the three whole weeks we had spent in the Spirit Well, I was proud to say that we had only used a third of a barrel of Life Well water; we would have plenty left over, even after this adventure was done and we, ideally, walked away with an entire barrel of Ghostwater. All we had to do was play it safe from now on, finish raising the last few of the crew to Truegold, and not take any undue risks until we approached the fourth well. 

I knew that Akura Harmony only planned to approach the fourth well in Ghostwater’s final hours. Meaning that, as long as we timed it right and only approached in the last few days, preferably well before him, then as long as our approach didn’t overlap with his, then we should be fine. In theory.

That meant we still had a few days left until the end stage of my plans. I’d budget between four and six days for this final stretch. These would be the several days in which we would leave the Spirit Well behind and hunt down extra stockpiles of Northstrider’s soulfire. 

I had had Dross speculate as to how much soulfire we would need. Given the lack of data as to the size of the stockpiles, there hadn’t been much for Dross to go on, but I had found research on other elixirs that were refined with a final sanctification by soulfire. Working off our loose estimates of stockpile size and the consumption demands of other Archlord elixirs, our best guess was that we would need three soulfire stockpiles; in other words, the mother flames of two habitats and the font beneath the fourth well. Preferably, I’d go with four–just to be safe.

The ride back was as rough—and brief—as the ride to the Dream Well. We saw nothing, but that was mostly on account of Dolph’s breakneck speeds. I hadn’t even bothered to wear the mask with how quickly he had rushed us through. As I jumped off Dolph’s back, Ziel was there waiting for us.

Palutin still hadn’t jumped off Dolph. I gave the dolphin a bow of my head and a thanks. Dolph yipped back and winked at me again.

He was extremely cute.

“Heading out now?” I asked as Dolph swam in circles with Palutin on his back.

“Ayup, just gonna check on the kids for an hour or two, make sure Trask ain’t gone and poisoned hisself on the crittermeat.” 

Ziel seemed dead-eyed as usual, but he was actually holding his hammer over his shoulder as he mounted up behind Palutin. The former Archlord showed strikingly more signs of life when he was doing something or another related to teaching others.

“You’re going too?” I asked Ziel.

“Lanata is on a force Path,” Ziel said, with an ever present sigh in his voice. “According to Palutin, she could benefit from some of my wisdom.”

“Don’t be too long,” I said to them. Ziel shrugged, and Palutin gently kicked Dolph’s sides with his heels. They shot away.

I watched them go, and wondered. Tomorrow or the day after, maybe, would be our last day at the Spirit Well. I hated even the thought of leaving this paradise for advancement behind, leaving it to die with this rest of this pocket world; but perhaps it was for the best. I was uncomfortable to say the least with the security scripts dying or becoming unreliable all around us–Dross had been swearing that something strange was going on with them, like there was a ghost in the system, watching him personally.

Personally, I thought he was just becoming a bit of a chatty little fiend being fed too much power. He was clearly going through a phase. It was almost adorable really. The mind-spirit had gone a little crazy after the infusion of Life Well water and the additional system authority gained from consuming multiple Eyes of the Deep. Last I’d seen him, he was talking about creating a watery legion of carp soldiers with laser constructs, all operated by him as a hive mind of death and destruction–

In any case.

As predicted, Mercy had advanced without much fuss or drama a day after I had made my own advancement, and now all we were waiting for was Lindon. Or more realistically, for Orthos to push Lindon the rest of the way. I hadn’t broached the topic because I knew that Orthos probably felt a certain type of way about our quick advancement, and I would like to avoid him leaving us this time around.

The extra time spent wouldn’t bite us in the ass anyway. We were five Truegolds—six, in fact, as Marigold had actually advanced during her time in the Spirit Well. Seven, if you counted Ruby. 

With Ziel in the mix…? It was a wrap. Nobody could beat us as long as he stuck by us. We quite literally had it made already. 

I doubted there were any threats that could handle us now if we all fought together as one.

All that was left for us to do, besides pushing for advancement, was digging up those caches of soulfire. It was just a matter of picking our targets. We would seek out the larger habitats with the most complete functions, the most intact scripts and support systems; those most likely corresponded to the habitats with the most soulfire remaining at the hearts of their foundation script arrays. But that…

That.

Was the problem facing us.

Finding the foundation script arrays was the issue. We had intended on continuing to observe the Ninecloud team and their excavation of the Life Well, mostly to learn from what they were doing, possibly to swim over and rob them if they uncovered a soulfire stockpile in addition to whatever foundation treasure they found–but then, at a certain point, the video feed had abruptly ended. 

Which had been strange, but not particularly concerning. I figured that the Nineclouds must have broken some critical backbone script in the course of their digging, something that outright shorted out all that remained of that habitat’s security scripts. Dross, though, had been silent for a while, only later saying that the moment of cutoff had felt… strange, not like a dying of a script but more like a crossing of them, as if some other force had shoved him out of the viewing port. But I dismissed those concerns–it was ridiculous. No one else could have access to the security systems, there was just no way. Dross was still a baby mind spirit, so he lacked the range of experiences that were actually needed to make accurate judgements–which he himself was the first to admit. I figured my hypothesis was likelier, because when we checked back later, we found that security monitoring across the entire Life Well habitat had been taken offline; meaning that their foundation scripts must have been destroyed at the source, either by the pocket world’s general breakdown or by the Ninecloud’s excavations, it didn’t matter. We had lost our chance to rob them. 

Without constant surveillance on them, we could no longer fish for a valid reason to void our oath and give those assholes the business, which had been my intention from day zero, and I was reasonably certain that Yerin would have jumped at the opportunity to run their void keys with me. Yerin still needed one after all.

It was a pity, but my intentions of banditry fueled by a desire for revenge would have to take a backseat. It was probably for the better anyway. No use getting greedy for chump change this close to the finish line, where the real prizes awaited.

I walked into the Spirit Well with an upraised fist, then punching the air like a prized fighter. “We got the training juice!”

My fellow trainees stopped what they were doing to look at me. Mercy lowered her bow, which she was using for target practice on a distant wall, Yerin slammed her sword into her sheathe at the exact same time that Ruby did, both eyeing me intently, and Lindon stood up from his cycling trance, Little Blue on his shoulder, while Orthos was nearby, cycling as well. He stood up, too, noting my arrival.

“I was sweating for a beat,” Yerin said, “Would have sworn that something would have happened.”

“Nah, the well was basically untouched since we left it,” I said. “It’s running dry now, but I don’t think anyone even ran into it. Anyway, status update!” Since the only person we were waiting on was Lindon, we all looked at him. 

Lindon frowned in obvious irritation, which on him, made him look like he was contemplating gruesome torture. “My pure core is making good progress. I have been focusing on it because of how difficult it is to raise it.” That would eventually flip on his head once he had Consume up and running. Then he could purify and consume all madra and use it to fuel his Twin Star Path, while he had to go out of his way to consume Black Dragons for his Blackflame core. “Progress has slowed slightly, so I am reasonably certain I might have a few days more.”

“Right,” I said, and then I eyed Ruby. Yerin still hadn’t pulled her in, which was a slight rarity. “I’m assuming you’re on an equivalent level to a Truegold now, right?”

Ruby frowned, but nodded. Then she dematerialized and… left. Ouch. Yerin spoke for her, “She fights like one. Good enough for me.”

I looked at Mercy. “Any chance you can open your fourth page now?” Mercy had explained to me the mechanics of her book, even though I didn’t really need the explanation. But it made it easier to track her progress. 

“Opening any of the Lady-level pages as a Gold isn’t the same as hopping between the Gold stages,” Mercy said, regret evident on her features, “It would have been different if I was at the peak, but as I am now, I might only have a few seconds at best. But I’m able to raise myself to Peak Truegold whenever I want, so that’s nice.”

I shrugged. “Even a few seconds could make all the difference in a fight, but a fulltime Peak Truegold is great for our chances.”

“What about you?” Yerin asked, arms folded, “You make any progress with your tapeworm?”

I summoned my Blood Shadow. It had taken the form of an eight-legged bug. It looked drastically different from the Lightningroot Parasite, however. It was edgy and angular where the parasite had been bulbous and soft. And unlike the Parasite, this creature was as large as my entire arm. From its eyeless, mouthless ‘head’ sprouted a crown of tendrils that defied simple description, and continued running down the length of its ‘spine.’ The tendrils were not like a weaver’s threads, and not like spiderwebs either. Something closer to fungal mycelia, if anything; tens of thousands of… not exactly hairs, but elongated circuitboard’s etchings, for lack of a better descriptor, up to an entire half-meter long and softly glowing with light madra, all jagged crimson lines and short edges and long curves, finer than fine, tapering to the point invisibility, all rustling to an unseen wind. 

Exquisitely creepy stuff, honestly.

“Bruno has fully assimilated the Lightningroot Parasite,” I said, looking him over, “I’m going to run some trials on animals before I try this on myself. I’d prefer a mammalian test subject, but I might just have to make do with fish.” My goal in the initial stages, at least once I got around to using this thing on myself, was not to subsume my existing nervous system, but to overlay its own on top of mine. That way, in case the Blood Shadow proved more of a disappointment than anticipated, I wouldn’t be crippled for life.

Currently, I was just spoiling for better test subjects than fish. The Life Well habitat would definitely have something for me.

I took the Blood Shadow back into my spirit and looked at Orthos, “Anything to report?”

Orthos took a bite out of the floor and ripped a solid chunk of it out. Three days ago, he wouldn’t have been able to do that on account of the scripts. 

Now the floor was littered with divots and potholes.

“No,” Orthos said.

Did he do this because he knew it pissed me off? He was turning this place into a total wreck and—

Ugh. Whatever.

“Good,” I said as I opened my void key, walked in, and came out of it with a valuable prize: a circular, golden shield, a sacred instrument that used solid Goldsteel as its physical vessel. It bore concentric rings of nine-colored glass, obviously Forged madra of Celestial Radiance, and in the middle was a mirror.

A sacred instrument of the Nine-Light Mirror.

“I got real distracted with all the tablets,” I said, “And it almost made me completely forget—or ignore the existence of—this beauty. But I think it’s time that we decide who should get it.”

“It’s a pretty piece,” Yerin eyed it intently, “But…” she shook her head. “Not my style. I’m not on the Path of the Endless Shield anyway, and master would have laughed himself to death seeing me running around with one.”

I looked at Mercy. She immediately quailed under the attention. “Ah, no way!” she shook her hands in front of her face rapidly, “I could never take this from any of you!” 

In any other situation, I would have chided her for putting herself out of consideration like that. She was a part of the team. Right now, I felt way too greedy to care. Still, I tried to say something a good friend would say. “Are you sure? You fought too, you know. You shouldn’t discount yourself.”

“No, it’s just… all I would have to do to get a treasure comparable to this would be to swallow my pride and return to my family,” Mercy said. “You guys don’t have that option.”

I mean, on the one hand, I wanted this shield. On the other… “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re a part of this team. Your pride is important to us. I for one wouldn’t be happy with you just swallowing it to do something you obviously don’t have any desire to do.”

Mercy looked pained, but she gave a smile. “I’m sure. Please. I don’t use shields anyway, it would only get in the way of my line of sight.”

“But if we did have a treasure useful to an archer,” I said, “And it was also similarly priceless, you would take it, right?”

She looked down on the ground and shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe?”

I sighed, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. In any case,” I said, looking at Lindon, “I suppose that just leaves you and me. May I be so bold as to nominate myself for this prize?”

“Explain why,” Lindon said, not giving me an inch. Ah, what a dickhead. 

“Because I’m as fragile as an eggshell,” I said.

“You can’t stand and defend anyway,” Lindon said, “You’re too light. Any decent physical blow would only launch you off your feet.”

I gave him an incredulous grin, “Alright, Lindon. Tell us why you should have it.”

“I’m stronger than you,” Lindon said, “I can stand and take a blow from it.”

I tried not to take this personally. “You can recover. I can’t.”

“Apologies, but…” he looked to the side, to where he had deposited his scythe against the Spirit Well, “You owe me a useful sacred instrument.”

I gaped. This motherfucker! “Is Dross just chopped liver?”

Dross materialized right then. After the Life Well, he now looked recognizably like himself: a round creature with one huge eye, a mouth rowed with stubby, triangular teeth, pebbly purple skin, and two floppy tentacle arms that ended in stubby suggestions of fingers. “I am most certainly not! In fact, just for that, Lindon, I would suggest that you let Sky take this shield!”

“Hey!” Yerin shouted. “Knock it off. Both of you.”

I shut my mouth and looked at Yerin questioningly. “What do you suggest, then?”

Yerin looked at Lindon, “You fought those Ninecloud people the longest. If it wasn’t for you, most of you would probably be dead and buried.” Then she turned to me, “And you need better protection. You’ve almost died so many times in the last thirty days that I’m surprised you haven’t hung up your spear and retired. Way I see it, you both have a decent claim.”

The claim of glory, and the claim of necessity. I felt like if the tables were turned, I probably would still have acquiesced to the claim of necessity, even if it would have cost me such a prize.

Lindon sighed and glared at the shield. “Apologies, Sky. It’s not as if I’m not worried for your safety, but… I deserve it, too.”

I sighed. I guess he was right. It’s not as if I didn’t have other options to keep myself safe. Dodge tanking had worked pretty well for me thus far, considering how many fights I had been in up to this point. That I had only almost died while I was up against the aftereffects of a Dreadgod, and then again while fighting with crippling injuries, was to be expected.

“Why don’t you leave it to chance?” Mercy suggested.

“Ah,” I said, “Rock, paper, scissors?”

They looked at me in confusion. I explained the rules. 

Lindon’s frown intensified. “Apologies, but I don’t… relish leaving things up to happenstance.”

“But if you do,” I said, “We have no one to blame, really, for the outcome. No hard feelings either way, right?”

Already, I was channeling the effects of the Dream Well water I had drank earlier, revving up my cognition as I forced my brain to open the floodgates of perception. Come on, Lindon. I know you want to.

Lindon looked at me, “If I win, you can’t complain.”

“Yes,” I said, looking solemn as I spoke, “Let’s leave it up to the heavens.”

Lindon put his hand in his pocket and subtly fondled something. I only noticed because I had my eyes on his every movement. He was probably touching Suriel’s marble.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“We release on go after a three-second countdown.”

I’m sorry, Lindon. 

“Three, two, one, go.”

For a pregnant moment, I felt the world standing still, as well as my thoughts. All I could process were rudimentary cues. All I was looking for was how many fingers Lindon would uncurl from the passive ‘rock’ position, and I prepared three responses for each cue that would trigger automatically, leaving no room for thought. Lindon uncurled four of his fingers. Just as I noticed, I uncurled only two.

I cut his paper.

“Ah!” Dross said, “It seems like Sky has won!”

“YES!” I shot my fists in the air, celebrating my success. That could have gone badly if he had retracted his four fingers. I had committed fully to that slight signal. Had he done it as a feint only to clench his fists, I would have been shit out of luck. Clenching was faster than straightening your fingers, as the muscles responsible for holding things were naturally far stronger than the ones responsible for keeping your fingers straight.

Perhaps if he had had more experience with the game, he could have beaten me.

“Sky,” Yerin said, and I turned to her, “My turn.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Yes,” she said. Despite the situation, her mood was dead serious.

Wait, fuck, had she noticed something?

“What are the stakes?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said with a shrug, “Just laying eyes on something.”

Oh. She wanted to see if it was possible to anticipate the other opponent. 

Or maybe she wanted to check if I was cheating by being able to consistently win?

In that case, should I throw this match?

Rock. I would do rock.

She did paper. My stomach fell. She narrowed her eyes at my fist. Then she looked at me with those narrowed eyes. “Again.”

Uh-oh.

This time, I’d win.

I looked at her hand as we both released. She held rock for suspiciously long. I caught sight of her eyes, and noticed that she was staring at my fist.

Both our hands flashed into paper in an instant, at the very last moment.

Yerin scoffed at me. “Neat trick. Lindon, never play a game with this clown again. Both of you close your eyes and play again.”

“What do you mean?” I furrowed my eyebrows. 

Lindon looked at me with wide eyes. “You cheated?”

“I would never! How dare you imply that?”

Dammit. I got caught.

“Fine!” I growled at Yerin, then turned back to Lindon, “Since my honor is being called into question, let’s play again, eyes closed.”

“Mercy, watch Lindon,” Yerin said, “I’m watching Sky.”

Wow. “When did I give you such a downright dastardly impression of myself? And look at us!” I threw my hands up, sighing theatrically.  “We’re tearing each other apart for mere treasure! What has become of us?”

Yerin just shrugged, “It’s a treasure. You wanting it really badly isn’t a crime. I’m not even mad about the trick, honestly. Would have done the same in your shoes, plain and true.”

“No tricks here!” I said, channeling my inner Eithan.

“Sure,” she rolled her eyes. “Alright now, face your opponent and close your eyes.”

Yerin counted down, and I tried my best to get into the head of Lindon. He would play this safe. That was his preferred path. And the safest option now would be… to stick to his initial option. What were the odds that I repeated scissor while he used paper? By committing to paper, he could either force a tie in case I picked paper, or he could outright win in case I picked rock.

So I, too, would stay the course.

Scissors.

I opened my eyes.

My scissors…

…cut Lindon’s paper.

I gasped in relief.

Lindon looked ill at ease, but honestly? Womp womp. He was getting Dross. 

“This is ridiculous,” Orthos said, “You should have fought over it.”

Off to the side, Mercy giggled like a schoolgirl.

“He’s a Truegold,” Lindon responded sourly. I stuck my nose in the air victoriously. 

“Even so!”

I picked up the sacred instrument.

“There is still the matter of compatibility,” Lindon said, and I detected a hint of hope in his voice. I pushed my madra into the buckler-sized shield. Immediately, it forged a large mirror around it, large enough to cover almost half my body. The mirror shone with nine colors that painted everything that was reflected within, and it made it go from the size of a regular old buckler to a full-on hoplite shield. 

It made a fine pairing with my spear, that was for sure.

Dross’ eyes widened in realization, “Ah, I forgot to mention, but constructs and sacred instruments on the Path of Celestial Radiance are legendary for being universally compatible with all aspects of madra!”

“Heh,” I chuckled as I looked over the Nine-Light Mirror projected over the shield. Using it, I could now reflect techniques, and I could add my own power to that reflected Striker technique.

Lindon looked like a kicked puppy.

“Now,” Yerin said, “Why don’t we go sniffing around for that soulfire? Four out of five Truegolds are good odds in my book, and I’m positive that, with what we’ve got tucked away from the Spirit Well, all of us could make the peak inside a month. I’m already near touching distance against a ceiling myself.”

I looked around the Spirit Well room. “I’m going to miss this place,” I said with a fond smile. “And the library. I wish we could take it all with us.”

“No use getting greedy,” Yerin said, “We should put our backs to this pocket world fast. Dross already said it’s falling apart faster now.”

“Pardon, Orthos,” Lindon said, “But I would like to speak with you for a moment in private.”

Orthos sighed, but trudged on past us, following Lindon away from the crowd. Orthos wouldn’t like that conversation, but we would have better odds if Lindon became a Truegold with us as well.

Having to raise two cores must have been hell. He only ever made half the progress we did. Less, really. Because in addition to his dual cores, Eithan’s cycling technique–by increasing Lindon’s core size and madra capacity–made it additionally harder to raise his madra density to the level required for advancement. 

Of course, once he reached Underlord and could begin using the binding in his arm, he would grow the fastest of all of us. But in the meantime, sucked to be him.

But enough about Lindon’s suffering from success.

I wanted to test this baby out.

I didn’t know if it was the supreme confidence of having a legendary treasure that I could finally fucking use, or it was all the ceaseless training I had committed to in the past three weeks warping my ego, but I was eager to give this a go.

“Yerin,” I said, grinning at her, “Wanna go a round?”

Yerin raised an eyebrow. “You stone certain?”

Even her quiet skepticism couldn’t quench my thirst for battle. “I’ve been meaning to test out my newfound abilities now.” I started skipping to loosen my calves. I only used my calf muscles as well, and I still managed to launch myself up almost a foot in the air. I was completely weightless. Then two feet. Then three. I giggled at the ridiculousness of my spaceman routine.

Yerin had eaten far more of the fish than I did, and actually had a lot of the Sea Drake, where I had only been able to have one steak at best, and that almost put my system in shock. I had to drink the Life Well water to save my life. Even a subsequent attempt hadn’t allowed me to fare much better. 

It seemed like I had genuinely hit a ceiling for how strong my Iron body could become at my level, and more Sea Drake would only have me waste Life Well water without even giving me any appreciable gains.

This time I jumped with all my leg strength, flipping once, twice, thrice, four times, five times… eight times in total before landing on both feet, arms outstretched theatrically.

Before entering Ghostwater, I would have just barely been able to do this… with my Enforcer technique activated. Even then, I had my doubts.

Now, even my baseline was an agile force to be reckoned with. Yerin would do well not to take me so lightly anymore. 

Pun not intended.

“Weapons or hands?” Yerin asked.

Hm, we could start slow. “Hands first.” I did want to test the extent of my newfound durability/flexibility.

000

Chiara stood by the bow of the cloud skiff, keeping a lookout and projecting an aura of supreme confidence. They were four miles above the ground, and ten miles away from their target, a border fort in the southeast of the empire, now infested by Seishen-backed insurgents and opportunists willing to take advantage of an empire in crisis.

On their own, they didn’t pose a significant threat. The fort they had taken was only one among thirteen such fortifications. The problem was that once they had seized one fort, seizing another would be dramatically easier. If the empire were to lose all thirteen, they would effectively have lost an entire chunk of the southeastern provinces.

That was where the Skysworn came in.

“Can you see them, yet?”

Hui Su, one of two Lowgolds in her team, once again posed that incessant question with a nervous tone.

“Yes,” Chiara lied. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. She could make out the fort with her naked eye, but so could anyone else that simply looked. 

It just never paid to make people aware of the limitations of one’s bloodline legacy. Even the Patriarch’s limits were unclear to everyone in the family. 

“How many are there?” He asked.

Chiara turned her head and flashed a confident grin. Her hair was now more blonde than black, now that she no longer had to haunt  too many harborside pubs while undercover. Even the best dyes faded. “Are you asking for the sake of gathering intelligence, or are you just spirallin right now?”

Hui Su ducked his head. “Apologies, Highgold.”

“Let go of your worries, Hui Su. You’re battling scavengers, not cultists. And we’re Skysworn. Do you really think even a hundred of them could pose a threat against us?”

They absolutely would, but again, it never paid to let people in on your weaknesses.

“A hundred?” he asked in fright.

“Gather yourself. That’s an order.”

Hui Su stood straight and bowed at her back before retreating into the skiff. He visibly calmed himself as he cycled his madra, and Chiara nodded to herself. He would be fine, given that the fort didn’t actually contain a hundred warriors. That was its previous capacity, but the battle to take the fort must have cost the invaders a lot as well. If they had brought a thousand, it was likely that perhaps only fifty remained alive to man the stronghold. Such was the price one paid for attacking such a heavily armed position.

This operation wasn’t riskless, but Chiara felt like it had a more-than-decent chance of success. Of course, she could have increased those chances herself.

Deep within, her core roiled with the madra of a snowstorm, cycling through her body in calming, chilling loops that kept her mind cool, chasing away distractions and hotheadedness. Thanks to the new Paths knowledge, advancement resources and improved cycling technique the Patriarch had given her, her sacred arts had never been more refined, and her madra was as advanced as it would ever get within the stage of Highgold. All it waited for was a push.

A push that Chiara could have provided at any time in the last week; but she had… waited, for reasons that confused even her.

Hesitating to advance. It felt like a betrayal to herself, to the clan, and to the Skysworn, even though on paper it was a perfectly reasonable thing to do, given the Skysworn’s chaotic circumstances. 

Still. An advancement now would… change everything.

It would bring with it a whole host of expectations and responsibilities, but also, freedoms. It would herald the beginning of a lifetime of climbing up the only rankings that truly mattered in the empire, constantly sharpening her skill, and competing in an entirely different arena of combat. 

Most importantly, it meant that she would mostly be giving orders, rather than taking them. The Skysworn only had one Underlord, and Naru Gwei and Stormrock were currently far west of here. On ninety nine days out of a hundred, Truegolds were the last line of command of the Skysworn. Thousands of Skysworn, the Empire’s most elite peacekeepers, would be looking to her for leadership.

She honestly wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

And her brother had already stolen a march on her. Again. There wouldn’t be a point to advancement in order to impress her parents either now. All that awaited was mediocrity, being profoundly lacking in every aspect.

She had always intended to leave the Highgold rankings on a high note, while she was in the top tens Empire-wide. She had stalled out at top eleven for weeks after the Bleeding Phoenix’ attack, all the way until Cassias and Jing decided it was time to advance.

By that virtue, she was now number nine.

The accomplishment felt hollow to her. It wasn’t something that she would ever celebrate, not that her squad hadn’t been enthused on her behalf. In the Skysworn’s internal rankings, she was the number one Highgold, out of thousands. That didn’t matter. No one truly skilled ever stalled out at Highgold.

She would have to leave this squad behind once she advanced. The Skysworn would give her the armor finally, and she would be given far more freedom. In exchange, she would be shackled by greater expectations. Those two things would end up canceling out.

Once she proved herself even more useful, those shackles would multiply. It was a nasty trap, but that was life. Advance, advance, advance, even if it made life measurably worse.

Even if it dug an uncrossable chasm between her and that stupid, reckless, idiotic man that she couldn’t help but love.

The man that she wasn’t sure loved her anymore.

They were supposed to talk. Instead, after returning to her mission, she had found out from others that he had run off to some long-term mission, breaking his promise of a conversation that she had hoped would clear everything up. She hadn’t been sure whether to take that as a sign of simple misfortune, or a deliberate signal of his intentions to end things for whatever reason.

Then she had read the letter that he had left in her room. It was an apology, as well as an explanation of why they couldn’t see each other for the time being. He was chasing a miracle elixir to heal his body, and promised to return with enough for the both of them to share. It seemed as absurd as it was naive. She doubted even the Emperor could get elixirs of that grade; they were a thing out of legends, not reality.

The second half of that letter had been a long winded, overly saccharine poem of how much he loved her, a goofy string of words littered with ridiculous and over-the-top similes and humorous metaphors, once more evoking the chronically unserious Sky that she had come to love.

Once more, he had promised to have an illuminating conversation, and he profusely apologized for his behavior in the hospital.

The letter was unbearable. Infuriating. Saddening to the extreme.

It gave her hope. Hope for his recovery, and hope for the continuation of their relationship. With that hope, however, came pain. She felt like she almost would have preferred some sort of parting of the ways, some inexplicable turn in their relationship and an imminent separation. At least then, she wouldn’t have been battling against so many misgivings, so much anxiety and uncertainty, on a daily basis. She knew, knew that it was pointless to have hope in a sacred artist who had been crippled that badly, with a Blood Shadow roiling around their core to boot. So why was she still hurting herself by feeling hope, of all things?

There was much she didn’t know about her future, his future, much that she wanted to know. But there was one thing that she was certain about. Even if it would end up harming her relationship with him in the long run, if that long run even existed for the two of them, she should advance to Truegold and become a full member of the Skysworn.

In doing so, she could at least take control over Sky’s squad back from those bumbling idiots Renfei and Bai Rou, the Skysworn that had been responsible for almost causing Sky’s death to begin with. In gaining strength, she might increase her distance from her loved ones, but at least they would be alive to look at her in awe and not the familiarity that she so craved.

This would be her last mission as a Highgold, and she would make it count.

Once they were half a mile from the fort, concealed by clouds, their skiff stopped. So did the four others in their little fleet.

Out from the cabin of the skiff walked Gosha, her team’s Truegold officer. He was a tall and dusky man with a thick horseshoe mustache, and eyes that were perennially shielded by half-moon discs of black glass: his Goldsign.

Chiara spun on her heels and gave the Truegold a salute—one arm held behind her, and her other fist raised above her forehead. Her squadmates all mirrored the salute, snapping into position.

“Report,” Gosha demanded.

“Forty-nine belligerents,” Chiara reported, “Nineteen defensive constructs currently in operation. The scripts are drained. Their crystal flasks will need refilling, but they have already noticed us. They are scrounging up emergency power-sources as we speak.”

Gosha turned to the side, singling out Chiara’s fellow Highgold, Kai. He carried a rolled-up map of the fortress’ interior with him. Kai immediately handed over the map before being asked to, and Gosha unfurled it. “Point out the operational defensive constructs.”

Chiara did, quickly dotting the points with Forged madra. Then she painted a streak on the map. “This is a security blindspot.”

Gosha nodded, eyeing the spot intently. “What do you have in mind?”

Chiara fought down that uncomfortable feeling of being put on the spot. Gosha had nothing but respect for Chiara over the years that they had worked together, and she considered him to be somewhat of a mentor to her.

A mentor that hadn’t had anything new to teach her for… a long time.

Now, he had become more and more comfortable with giving her more responsibility, allowing her to outright direct many of their operations. She had long-since crossed the point of being a second in command, or even an advisor. The only reason that the Skysworn even allowed him authority over her was because of their difference in rankings. 

Gosha being well aware of that fact didn’t make her feel any less awkward.

She had surpassed her mentor, and it felt wrong.

Chiara swallowed her discomfort. “We attack now,” she said, keeping one eye on the quickly scrambling insurgents within the fort. They were cursing and raving as they prepared their defenses, panicking at the mere prospect of facing off against a fleet of Skysworn, even though the entire fleet were only twenty-five in number. 

“We have the psychological advantage. They’re scared. And the aura here is good for my Blizzard.” There was enough wind to allow her to convey all of the ice aura that had built up from the natural treasures she had brought with her. That ice aura now hung above the skiff like a cloud of jagged blue ever-shifting sand. “I will throw the Blizzard down, and while they are blinded, everyone else will attack the blindspot. But I want this ship to head right behind the Blizzard. We can scuttle it and fly on clouds to land before they have any idea what has happened. We attack the crew manning the defensive constructs, giving the others free reign to land their ships and meet the infantry.” 

It went without saying that in a straight battle, even five times the number of these wild sacred artists—who were mostly just acting as cat’s paws for the empire’s enemies—wouldn’t stand a chance against the might of the Skysworn.

The fleet would crush them.

Gosha raised his bracer closer to his face to speak into the messaging construct, relaying her plans to everyone. 

Even when her plans demanded that they scuttle an entire cloudship, Gosha was ready to bear the burden. When she stopped to think about it, that level of trust in her plans astounded her. Sure, it would be possible to salvage the cloud madra and use materials already within the fort. They were sure to have some extra skiffs lying around as well. 

Still, it wasn’t a cost that should be paid with so little hesitation. Chiara felt the pressure mount on her.

This was officially the largest Skysworn operation she had ever directed, and all the pressure now lay on her. It was why she had insisted on putting herself in the greatest risk by volunteering herself as a commando.

Still, she couldn’t ignore the risk she was putting the less-advanced members of their squad through. Hui Su didn’t seem ready for this level of pressure. 

“Skysworn,” Gosha said, “Prepare your clouds. We will–”

“Officer, if I may,” Chiara spoke evenly, “I would ask that we only bring four along, to keep ourselves mobile, and to maximize chances of success. Stealth and nondiscovery are paramount for the success of our intended sabotage.”

Gosha nodded, and then immediately singled Hui Su out, just like she had expected. “Take a cloud and board another ship for now. Report to Truegold Lo.”

Hui Su grimaced at the dismissal, but saluted with a “Yes sir!” and retreated to the cabin to retrieve a cloud.

Gosha let go of the map, and a dark force pressed it down to the ground, framing the map in a black border. “Everyone, gather around!” Gosha shouted. They went over the infiltration plan, all the while Chiara kept an eye on the situation and updated the officer as needed.

One minute later, Gosha gave the order. “Arelius! Release the Blizzard!”

The eponymous Ruler technique of her Path could take several aspects of attack depending on how the technique was cycled and what the intent behind it was. It could be used as a hailstorm, a chilling wind that slowed all within, or it could obscure visibility.

Chiara Arelius knew the importance of sight. Eithan did, too, and with his help, she had been able to refine the technique in that direction of obfuscation.

The stormy ice aura above her shot off towards the fort, becoming a cloud that spewed snow, obscuring the entire fort from view.

“Clouds!” Gosha roared as he threw around emerald Thousand-Mile Clouds. All four of their squad clambered upon them and shot off from the skiff as it flew towards the blizzard cloud. Striker techniques shot out from the cloud. All missed.

The Skysworn followed their scuttled ship from several angles, diving through the blizzard cloud. Chiara kept them protected from the harmful effects of the technique, but their visibility would be impaired until they crossed the influence of the cloud. Chiara guided them through a communication construct, directing them all in the optimal direction.

She jumped off her cloud when she was ten feet above the parapets, and quickly rushed towards a cluster of the garrison blinded by the blizzard. She shot off several Icebound Manacles at them. The glob-like Striker technique struck them and immediately covered them in ice that both paralyzed and harmed in the long-term.

It gave her ample time to smash the defensive cannons and move on. 

Her group were quiet as they rushed through the fort upon her direction, all efficiently taking down their opponents and taking out their defensive measures. 

Ice pumped through Chiara’s veins as she identified another cluster of targets. Even as she travelled inside the fort, the Blizzard’s effects were still noticeable, suffusing the air in a thick frost fog. The effects were less pronounced while inside. It did make it easier for her to take potshots at her opponents when they were on the far side of a hallway.

When everyone else was blinded, it truly was the one who could see that reigned. 

The rest of the fleet converged as Chiara’s group systematically dismantled the fort’s defenses.

Within two minutes, she had destroyed nearly a dozen cannons, absolutely gutting their defenses. The insurgents were angry, but they were fearful as well. They knew that it was only a matter of time, now.

All they could do before then was take as many Skysworn with them to the grave.

Chiara intended that number to be zero.

Towards that end, she unsheathed her two-handed sword from her back and activated its binding. Acrid smoke gushed out from the sword, filling her surroundings. She wasted no time activating her Blizzard’s Fury. The Enforcer technique filled her body, giving it the rigidity and power of a glacier, and the agility and speed of falling snow.

She made a beeline towards the biggest target. More importantly, it was a target that would probably give her squadmate Kai some trouble.

Her new cycling technique had already dramatically enhanced the efficacy of her techniques. She found that they activated more easily than ever before, and cost less madra to use as well. Weeks ago, she had been afraid to push herself for fear that the modifications that Eithan had made to her Path might not be that potent, and that she could accidentally cross some line and hurt her madra channels. After all, she hadn’t even pushed them into significant soreness as of yet. That was incredible enough on its own considering their state of emergency.

Now she would give it her all. Her last Highgold mission deserved nothing less.

She zoomed through the hallways, taking several turns within only a dozen or so seconds, before she arrived to meet her quarry, a Truegold on an earth Path, holding up an enormous glaive as he parried and blocked Kai’s sword strikes.

He was a dangerous opponent. Stronger than her. Likely faster than her. She had to make sure that a fight wouldn’t happen when they met. 

To that end, she had been watching him for quite a while, reading him like a book for long enough that she knew exactly the right page to rip out of its spine, causing all the other pages to fall off.

With this, she would make sure that when they met, they wouldn’t fight. She would just dismantle him and move on. 

He sensed her arrival, turned around to get a look, and blinked smoke out of his eyes, taking a step back.

The foot, frozen solid by an Icebound Manacle, landed solidly on the floor. It shattered under his weight.

A Coldrealm Icicle, a solid Forged spike of her Blizzard madra, ran through his stomach, freezing his internal organs from the inside. He had minutes to live at most, but that was the point. This way, they could move on to another battle, and the Remnant could just as well be the problem of these insurgents as it would be a problem to the Skysworn.

That was one Truegold down. There were five more to go. Chiara intended them all to bleed to death slowly by the time the reinforcements arrived.

Her madra kept her head cool as she picked out each target, racing through the fort, ignoring lesser opponents, dodging and weaving away from their shoddy attacks. She put her full concentration into learning every opponent, making sure that she knew exactly when to strike for maximal effect to not drag out any single engagement.

In many ways, she was quite weak. This was the best way to stay ahead of her opponents. Sometimes, she would wonder how Sky did it. He would meet people in open battle, risk life and limb, and do so with all the confidence in the world. His were the sort of fights you could write books about.

Chiara’s were far less glamorous. She faced the backs of her enemies, poked from afar, blinded, confused and acted around their perceptions. It was… boring.

No. Chiara dispelled that thought. She was too old to give in to self-deprecation. This was her Path, and she had chosen it because it was what she was good at.

It wasn’t boring, not to her. It was just… cold.

And she preferred that. 

By the time she, Kai and Gosha faced off against the last Truegold, killing her and her Remnant in only a handful of seconds, their reinforcements had arrived.

The Skysworn fell on the insurgents and reaped them like wheat. No quarters given. It was a thorough extermination from start to end, a removal of an infestation. The Skysworn harvested the Remnants worth turning into weapons, and soon, only ten minutes after Chiara had cast her Blizzard technique, the battle was over.

Heartstone Fort had been recaptured.

Chiara stilled her madra. Her channels ached like a frost burn, but she had done no damage to her spirit. Instead, she had just… pulled out far more from her Path than ever before.

As she sat down against a random wall, greatsword spread over her lap, Gosha approached her. Chiara set the sword aside and stood up to give him a salute.

“At ease, Skysworn,” Gosha said, and Chiara let go of her salute. Beneath those dark discs, his eyes softened. “Well done today.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve… gotten stronger. So much stronger.”

Chiara squirmed. “Thank you, sir.”

Gosha chuckled ruefully. “You won’t be calling me sir much longer. Don’t think I haven’t sensed your spirit as of late.”

Chiara grinned bashfully. “I look forward to reaping the benefits of the Skysworn’s many gifts.”

“Advancement is hectic,” Gosha shook his head. “From the outside looking in, all people see is greatness and glory. But to those who have experienced the precipice that you stand on… they understand the weight.” Chiara bowed her head as she listened to him talk. She appreciated this immensely, more than he could imagine. She hadn’t ever spoken a word of her issues with advancement to anyone. Leave it to Gosha to suss out such a thing.

He always was the better detective.

“But,” Gosha continued, “I want you to stand proud, Arelius. Stand proud, and know that even in the ranks of Truegolds, you will not be disrespected. You truly are a talent. At only twenty-four, you are expected to make your last Gold advancement. Very few in the empire can count themselves among those ranks at your age.”

For a moment, Chiara felt silly about her misgivings. She had worked hard to attain the necessary advancement resources to get as far as she had. It was no accident that she now stood where she did. Still, there was a difference between simply working to obtain greatness—a thing everyone is expected to do—and being on the precipice of that greatness, now considering all the consequences it carries.

In the end, she was grateful for the reminder.

“Thank you, sir,” Chiara said, “And… thank you for teaching me all that I know. Without you, I would have made a considerably worse Skysworn.”

“Hah!” Gosha laughed, “No need to butter me up. You could glean valuable insights from a rock. Your eyes were always the sharpest thing about you, and I’ve met quite a few Areliuses that let their bloodline blind them.” 

She was no different, really. Her bloodline opened the entire world up to her, but it was so much. The world was entirely too big, and she was entirely too small. She remembered when she was a little girl, how she would curse the name of the first patriarch for foisting such expectations on her. He had wanted his descendants to see the truth of the world, but all she was aware of was her own ignorance.

The first patriarch had ascended millenia ago, so many thousands of years in the past that many branch Arelius had forgotten him, and others knew him as nothing but a name. But the core bloodline of the House had a longer memory than most, and she had always paid attention in her lessons. And he had always struck her as a man that had downright dangerous expectations of his children, expectations that had probably led to many of their deaths throughout history. 

She gave Gosha a polite nod—he only meant well.

“Don’t forget me once you advance, alright?” Gosha chuckled. “I’m going to make sure that high command has you to thank for this successful operation. By reinforcing this outpost, we’ve bought this region quite a few months of continued stability. That won’t go unrewarded.”

“Thank you, sir.”

After a few more traded niceties, Gosha went on his way, and Chiara returned to her rest, slowly letting her madra channels heal from the overuse of techniques.

Distantly, she got the impression that someone was looking for her. She knew him well—they had once shared squads. When Han was still around.

He was a tall, well-built man in his late twenties. He had a handsome, chiseled face, short-cropped black hair above which was a placid cloud. On each side, he carried a pair of two-sided short-handled warhammers, the typical choice of arms of his Cloud Hammer school. He wore apprentice robes, befitting his rank of Highgold. Robes like hers.

She tracked him as he circumnavigated the halls of the fort. He didn’t mention her name as he looked around, but she knew he was looking for her. It was evident in the brief quickening of his heartbeat every time he turned a corner, the dilation of his pupils, and other minor signs of nervousness.

Finally, he turned the right corner, and Chiara could regard him with her normal eyes.

His pulse quickened and he had to cycle madra to calm himself down and put on a cool and collected mask, an act that she was intimately familiar with. As an expert on the field, his act could definitely use more work. It was nothing like Sky. He truly was cool and collected most of the time. He only broke when she was present in some capacity, but she liked those instances.

It made her feel like she was an exception to him, the one person that could instill in him that raw uncertainty and jitteriness that always heralded the feeling of love.

“You’re looking tuckered out,” said Brolin, arms folded as he looked at her with his head tilted back.

Chiara snorted, “It’s nearing a month now since I last had a day’s rest. I can’t remember the last time I went to bed without feeling sore all over.”

Brolin laughed as he walked up to her and sat down next to her, a little too close for comfort. He was being quite bold today. She wondered if today would be the day that he finally confessed his feelings, and she would likely lose another friend.

She had hoped for a long time that he would have taken the hint and let things lie, considering how careful she had been to keep a distance from him, both physically and emotionally. She wasn’t oblivious enough to ignore signals, whether spoken or unspoken, and made sure to always be clear in her communications.

Evidently, that wouldn’t be enough in this case. He truly was smitten.

“The world’s gone mad,” Brolin muttered. “I hear your patriarch is out in force hunting those damned cultists.”

Chiara nodded. He had recently killed an Underlord Redmoon  Emissary in the top five of the entire Empire’s most-wanted lists, Longhook, from what her superiors had been whispering. “Everyone is doing their part.”

Bizarrely enough, Eithan had actually managed to get the branch elders to agree on a southward expansion, into the lawless borderlands between the Blackflame Empire and the Seishen Kingdom. Several formerly independent city-states were now poised to be flying House Arelius banners, soon, from what she had heard. 

Honestly, there was probably some relation between this new Arelius colonial project and this current offensive from Seishen-backed insurgents, though grand imperial strategy was far above her pay-grade.

Recently, several different empire-wide factors had been converging, all at the same time, all to the benefit of House Arelius, and the relation between those factors was far beyond even her sight. 

To hear her brother tell it, their newest Underlord, Mu Shu, had relished the opportunity to throw the weight of the Arelius name around like he was a natural born member, and Naru Gwei himself had agreed to a collaboration as well, further ensuring the safety of the expanding Areliuses. 

How the Patriarch had gotten Gwei’s cooperation was beyond her understanding. The animosity between the two Underlords was legendary.

The branch elders were apparently ripping their hair out with their bare hands at all this ‘needless risk’ as they called it, but the Emperor himself had sent his commendations; he couldn’t have been happier with Eithan. Her own father, Gaien, was fully on board and had dispatched most of their combat-capable Truegolds to the south on Eithan’s orders. Apparently, three separate Arelius Truegolds were now commanding armies of mercenaries paid for by the Patriarch himself–where he had gotten so many scales was beyond her understanding, even given what had probably been looted from the Jai’s treasuries.

It all made Chiara extremely suspicious. The Patriarch was usually never one to make anyone happy with him. His entire tenure in the Blackflame Empire could be characterized as gratuitous at best, with him convincing everyone else that his whims were worthwhile and that it was logical to devote undue levels of resources and attention to them. They rarely ever paid off in a way that the branch elders appreciated, too. 

But at least Serpent’s Grave was ranked number one in art and culture now. 

Eithan Arelius truly picked the strangest battles.

This–bizarrely successful–turn towards useful clan politicking in the last year was completely out of character for him. It was almost like he was finally starting to put the family ahead of his personal ambitions.

“Not least of all you,” Brolin said with a boyish chuckle, interrupting her reverie. “You were quite something today, you know?”

Chiara nodded, not sure what else to say, really. Even gratitude felt risky in this situation, even if it made her feel shrewish. “I just did my part, as did you.” Chiara hadn’t kept an eye on him during the battle, but she assumed that he had fought as he normally did, with skill and ferocity. Ever since Chon Ma had ascended to Underlord, the standards of the Cloud Hammer school had shot up dramatically. One truly had to be a prodigy to be accepted now, and Brolin had made the cut even after Chon Ma’s ascension.

“Humility doesn’t suit you,” Brolin said with a grin, “Just thought you should know. You’re too incredible to talk that way.”

Chiara suppressed a wince. Okay, so we’re doing this. “Brolin,” she said, preparing to let him down gently before the conversation would have a chance to start.

But she sensed at the last moment that she was already too late. Brolin’s pulse quickened once more as well as his breathing. He cycled for strength, almost Enforcing himself as he spoke, “I know you don’t have a shortage of people that tell you this, but I do think you’re incredible. You’re the most incredible woman I know. And I would relish the opportunity to know you more… deeply.” He could stand to use another word than ‘incredible’ all the time. “And I know that you’re… with someone else right now. I heard what happened to him. Would you like to talk about it?”

Really? Right after he had all but announced his intentions to court her? His intent to listen to her only felt manipulative, now knowing that he was doing it in order to gain her affection.

The worst part about that question was that she did want to talk about it. Just not with him. She had left behind all the people that she could call friends when she had advanced to Lowgold, friends that she would have felt comfortable sharing this sort of thing with.

Now, all she had were rivals, superiors, and those that looked up to her, those that others less benevolent would call ‘inferiors’. No friends, however. A community filled with sacred artists rarely made room for such ‘frivolous’ relationships.

“No,” Chiara said, “I don’t.”

“I understand,” Brolin said. “Just know that I’m here for you, no matter what. Fighting by your side.” Implying that Sky couldn’t. Because he was a Lowgold.

Maybe she had been too nice to Brolin.

He was basically dancing right in front of her boundaries, saying just enough to only imply things that stepped over the line instead of outright saying those things. It gave him plausible deniability, allowed him to dodge accountability from his words. Even if Chiara had been single, she still would have been put off by this serpentine, indirect overture.

Rather than continue to stew in displeasure, she decided to plot a petty revenge instead.

She would talk about it.

“Sky is strong,” she said. “Stronger than Han ever was,” she continued. She watched for Brolin’s wince at the mention of her ex-boyfriend, his friend now retired from the Skysworn. “He has a strength of mind that I can’t quite fathom, and a strength of character that allows him to do whatever he puts his mind to. I never doubted for a moment that he would one day advance. While he’s away working, in spite of his injuries, all I’ve been doing thus far is moping around, feeling sorry for him for his injuries.” Among other things, though Chiara would sooner walk off a flying cloudship than share her relationship problems with this opportunist. “But he wouldn’t want that. He would want me to trust him, to feel confident that he has everything under control.” 

And maybe he didn’t, but why not at least try to hope? What if something beautiful came of it? A fantasy ending where everything worked out: Sky returning not just healthy, but also a Truegold, ready to wear the Skysworn armor only a month into his apprenticeship? The thought made her genuinely happy. And wasn’t that what mattered? To be happy?

Maybe she was setting herself up for a heavy heartbreak, but she also felt a rightness in this approach. This ability to hope for such beautiful futures was exactly one of the things that she loved in that maddening man.

“So I will,” she said with a nod of finality. “He’s crazy. He mouths off to every authority figure that looks at him wrong. Narrowly avoids death on a regular basis, courts death like it’s his business. He’s antagonized no less than three Underlords of this empire that I know of, and sleeps soundly at night without a care in the world.” She both hated and loved that about him. “He is insane, but he always finds a way. And I love that about him.”

Brolin looked thoroughly discomfited by her monologue. He tried for a derisive chuckle that he probably would regret later on, but he was clearly too shaken to regulate his emotions. “Surely you should know that such people rarely have happy endings. And who is to say that he will find a way now? He has a Blood Shadow now, doesn’t he? He could really hurt you, you know. He might just drop dead and become a Blood Vassal at any moment!”

In his distress, Brolin had completely forgotten to be a friend, and was now making his agenda painfully obvious. A part of her had hoped for him to react with more grace. They went back a long way, years in fact. Apparently, the disappointment he now felt meant more than that.

She wanted to be offended—he was basically cursing Sky with an ill fortune, using his situation to sow uncertainty and a sense of danger in her—but instead, all she felt was relieved.

She truly was grateful for the opportunity to get these things off her chest, even if her listener wasn’t the most graceful of people.

Chiara stood up smoothly and sheathed her sword behind her back. “That won’t happen,” she said. “If there’s one thing that’s stronger than his ability to hope, it’s his spite.” She chuckled darkly, “Heavens forgive whoever gives him a reason to direct his full malice on them. He won’t forgive them. Not even if it’s a Dreadgod.”

Like a little girl, she found herself believing her words, even knowing how ridiculous they sounded. They gave her a cleaner kind of hope than that latter. It was just like Sky to declare a vendetta against a Dreadgod.