Unbound

inexorable enkindling!

“Primal Firestorm!” Atar shouted, and his voice overlapped with Flame’s own.

The emerald inferno washed over them, but it was nothing. Atar’s Body had turned to white flame which rendered him immune to the attack’s damage, and his other Skill pulled the viridescent Mana into his channels.

In the span of an eyeblink, the green blaze was gone, consumed entirely by his chatty companion. Only Atar remained, still composed of whirling white fire.

Inexorable Enkindling is level 81!

Primal Firestorm is level 84!

go, atar! destroy your enemies!

While Primal Firestorm rendered Atar immune to the effects of fire, Inexorable Enkindling allowed him to absorb sources of fire Mana and burn it for Strength, Vitality, and Endurance for a brief time. He crouched, gathering himself like a coiled spring, before unleashing his stolen might against the earth below. Atar shot upward, easily clearing thirty feet before arcing toward the charred window sill.

yes!

Atar melted through what little glass remained and landed in a neat crouch amid a terrified classroom.

Wait.

“Monster!” a Gnomish man cried out, pointing at him. A whip of water surged from their hand, splashing ineffectually against Atar’s white flame countenance. “Elemental!”

More took up the call, and Atar barely had a moment to register the classroom full of students before he was inundated with a dozen Skills of varying strength. They were weak, though, much more so than the emerald inferno he’d absorbed, and Atar endured all of them without flinching.

“Stop!” he yelled, trying to be heard over the discharge of magic. Instead it came out as a powerful boom that sent several benches toppling backward. And the students with them.

now! crush them into paste before they can recover!

“Verdant Bloom!”

Another wash of emerald fire blasted across the chamber, igniting the floorboards before slamming into Atar. It got no farther than that, however, as the green radiance was sucked into his white flame Body and consumed utterly.

weak. their mana runs low.

“Be still, all of you.” The new voice broke through the chaos and it was as clear as the ringing of a bell. “Drop your Skills. Now.”

Atar recognized the woman. A Half-Orc Chanter, one of those he’d seen hovering around Zara. As the students let their Skills flicker or fade, she turned to him expectantly. With a sour grumble, Atar deactivated his Skills, silencing their alluring song and forcing his flame to once again become flesh. Immediately he felt a wave of weariness wash over him as his boosted stats deflated, but he leaned onto his cane and withstood it.

“Glyphmaster!” cried out the wielder of the emerald flame. She was an elderly Hobgoblin woman with iron-gray hair and dusky red skin. Apart from looking vaguely familiar, she was also utterly terrified. “I didn’t know it was you. I swear!”

Atar lifted his hand, cutting off the excuses before they could pour out. He looked at the Chanter. “What’s going on here? I was in your courtyard and was attacked. I thought—it doesn’t matter. This is a classroom?”

The Half-Orc folded her arms across her chest. “It is. Who attacked you?”

“Th-that was me, I am afraid,” the older Hobgoblin admitted. Like the others, she was wearing pale green robes marked with a burning blue eye. A uniform. “We were sparring and my first Skill went awry. It hit the window.”

Atar raised an eyebrow. According to his Analyze the woman—Heva Groktis, apparently—was barely Journeyman Tier, but that initial blast had been strong.

“You used the Chant to boost your Skill?” the Half-Orc instructor asked.

“I did. Sounded it out with my Affinity and shaped it with my Intent.”

Several in the room murmured appreciatively. Atar got the distinct feeling that this was a beginner’s class. Taken in that light, what the Hobgoblin had done was a real achievement. She perked up, as if she too could feel their positive emotions bolstering her. Perhaps she could.

The Chanter grunted. “Impressive. But power means little if you have no control. Had it been anyone but Master V’as, your mistake could have cost someone their life.”

The Hobgoblin bowed her head. “I understand, and I take full responsibility.”

“No. As your instructor, the responsibility is mine.” The Chanter bowed to Atar. “My apologies, Master Va’s. How might I repay this slight?”

Atar’s emotions were still in a bit of turmoil. The abrupt shift into aggression and back out left him unsteady, but he leaned on his cane to buy him time. “It’s..fine. I came to speak with Zara. Is she around?”

“Ah, yes. The Maven is in her chambers. I can lead you there.”

“Thank you.” Atar glanced at the class, many of whom were still on the floor. Staring. For the first time, he recognized that many were actual children. He said nothing more as the Chanter led him out into a wide hall.

you were wronged, atar, and you seek no recompense? fool.

I’ll take no advice from you. If I had, those children would be dead. Atar shook himself, a shiver rolling across his shoulder. It was an accident. Leave it at that.

Flame grumbled something inaudible, but, for once, listened without being forced.

The Chanter led them across lacquered flooring and through decorative doorways that, while ornate and appealing in design, were nevertheless devoid of all but the most necessary of furnishings. The sounds of other instructors reached his ears as they passed by, accentuated by snippets of an ethereal song here and there. To Atar, who had grown up in the temples of Ahkestria and then schooled himself in the Eyrie tower, it felt at once familiar and unreal. Attending lessons on utilizing his Skills was normal for him, but the methods he overheard were not. Sorcery, the Chant, was being used without fear, and his Harmonic senses picked up so much more than his Perception ever had in the past.

Emotions swirled within the school—too many to count and too dense to pick apart. Atar could only say that, on the whole, it sang of joy. Of hope.

Eventually they reached a large staircase that appeared to dominate the central portion of the mansion. From outside the structure was clearly five stories tall and he’d leaped onto the second, yet it appeared that at least three more flights extended upward.

“The Maven Cyrene resides at the top of the manse,” the Half-Orc said. “Follow me.”

Atar did just that. The stairs were well crafted—typical of Henaari work—but they were great in number, and while Atar’s Body had greatly improved, he was still beleaguered by the after effects of his Inexorable Enkindling. It was more than a loss of boosted stats; it was a deep weariness that soaked into his bones and lasted for typically half a glass at its current level. Still, he bit back his complaints and tackled the stairs much as he would an array in need of solving. By the time they reached the sixth floor, however, his gray skin was coated in a sheen of sweat and his mood had fallen from annoyed to outright dour.

Inexorable Enkindling is level 82!

Atar drew up short. What? Why did that happen?

i put that woman’s verdant power to use, Flame said. your weakness after utilizing that skill is shameful. we must correct it.

You can direct stolen power into my Skills?

only stolen flame, and only into skills that make use of our shared element. Flame made a dismissive sound halfway between a caw and a growl. i can do nothing for lens of the magus or your precious sigaldry.

Atar felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the revelation or a lack of blood flow, but his Mind whirled with possibilities.

yesss. you see it now. the power just within your reach.

Like Felix. Atar regarded his thin hands, already irrevocably changed by his experiences. The ability of his mini Urge to absorb fire Mana had already grown Atar’s own power considerably by increasing the density of his core, and that had slowly trickled into his odd new flesh. It was why he could manage the trek across the city at all. If he could garner more…

“We are here, Master Va’s.”

They’d arrived at another set of stairs, but it was offset from the main ones by a short corridor lined with doors. Somehow they had traversed the distance without Atar’s notice, and now he glared up the narrow, spiraling assemblage of steps toward yet another level.

“Up there?” he asked, balefully.

The Chanter smiled, baring her short tusks. “I’m afraid so.”

“Very well. Thank you for the guidance.”

“Of course. I shall return to my students now, and instruct them on their aim.”

Atar barked a laugh and without another word, began to climb.

The narrow spiral steps took him entirely too long to ascend, but in time Atar reached the next and final story of Zara’s ridiculous school. Once there, he beheld a modest chamber that surrounded the stairs in a ring. Empty alcoves indented the walls at regular intervals, eight of them, with the last wider and holding a large wooden door banded in red-gold metal.

Atar whistled under his breath. According to his Analyze, the door was made out of Tier V wood as well. He hobbled toward it, but before his fingers touched the latch the entire thing swung open. He dodged backward, cane tapping so hard against the lacquered flooring that he left a divot.

“—cannot convince me otherwise, Zara.”

A group of four Chanters emerged from beyond the door, a Goblin, Elf, Orc, and Human dressed in fine clothing that was far removed from the pale green uniforms Atar had already seen. In fact, they wouldn’t have looked out of place in a grand ballroom had their Spirits not been fully bared. The pressure shoved against Atar’s Aspects like a physical weight, and his cane bowed beneath his bent Body.

Zara followed them, walking from the office toward the round chamber. “I wish that you would see reason, Anguin. The Cantus has chosen its path forward.”

“Our Will was ignored at the council, Zara. None of our wishes have been taken into consideration regarding this place, nor the subservience demanded of us.” The Goblin’s face twisted into a sneer at the word. “And for what? A temporary shelter?”

Zara’s frown was loud. “I would have us work together, with the Unbound.”

“You would have us expose our weaknesses. You of all people should know the dangers inherent in that—” The Goblin Chanter started, finally noticing Atar. “You. Another ally of the Autarch. Did you summon reinforcements for our meeting, Zara? Were you so afraid of our collective Will?”

enough of that!

Flame spread his wings and the pressure around Atar began to boil away. Enough for him to straighten up, at least.

“I am summoned by no one,” Atar said. He pushed through the Chanters, holding tight to his own emotions. He refused to show them fear even when they weren’t at odds with him or his allies, and now… The Flame burned within him, fierce and bright as he entered Zara’s office and took his place next to her. “But you seem to have been dismissed.”

The Goblin glared at him a second longer before turning his attention back to Zara. “Heed my words, Maven. The Cantus will face consequences for its decision, and unless someone listens, we will all fall to Ruin.”

Without another word, Anguin spun on his heel, and the rest followed him out. The door slammed shut, all on its own, and the Chanters’ bared Spirits were cut off entirely.

after them, atar! i sense a great power among them that would—

No. Back in the cage.

you would deny me, after the aid i’ve given? deny yourself?

Get. Back. In. Your cage. A piece of Atar clenched, exerting his Will and Intent upon the fiery bird within his chest. Flame squawked indignantly, but after his initial protest he fled back behind his obsidian bars.

Atar groaned in relief. “Well. Friendly sort. They remind me of my old master. They stink of the same self-assurance.”

Zara laughed through a long, tired sigh before retreating to a large desk. “They aren’t so bad as the late Grandmaster of Flame…but they certainly are a pain.”

“So the orichalcum reinforcement is just for show, then?” Atar asked, tapping the door banded with red-gold metal.

“You could say that.”

“An expensive demonstration.”

“The useful ones usually are.” Zara sat in her high backed chair. “I imagine your own defiance was quite costly.”

Atar shrugged. He didn’t have the energy to lie. His mental strength had taken a beating and it was barely noon. “The Flame remains too useful to ignore.”

correct.

“Anguin shares your sentiment, though his thoughts are focused on our shared friends.”

“So I noticed. Do we truly have nothing to worry about from them? I could only feel an overwhelming conviction from their Spirits, and I’ve faced emotions like that before. Usually though they’re wearing red cloaks and trying to kill me.”

Zara steepled her hands as her eyes drifted off toward something in the middle distance. She was no longer staring at Atar, but through him. She remained silent for a time, giving Atar a chance to look around. The Maven’s chamber was a curious half circle, with the door-bearing wall bent inward as if her office was wrapped around the room with the stairs. It was also one of the few places that seemed fully furnished. Shelves were built into the walls, as was a wide fireplace, and both were covered in books, statues, and small oddments. A few paintings were up on the plastered walls, featuring rivers and lakes rendered with an ethereal skill. The Fiendstone desk and the chairs around it were perhaps the most stark pieces in the place, and they practically exuded a phantom sense of authority.

Her hands came down, after a time, resting on the surface of her desk. “I’ve told you before that the Cantus’ decision to serve under Felix was contentious.”

“You did. That’s all this was?”

“All?” Zara chuckled. “A tradition of individualism and isolationism stretching back entire Ages has been overturned, albeit temporarily. The Sorcerers of the Fallen Halls have relied upon those tenets to keep us all safe. This was no simple decision the Cantus came to, and it was not done lightly. Still, for all our care and consideration, there are those among our number that still oppose it.”

“Alright.” Atar sat heavily in one of the overstuffed chairs. “You know, in most places, dissenters like that would have been taken care of quickly.”

“Are you advising me to have my own people eliminated?”

“No. Just admiring your restraint.” Atar shifted in place. His long walk had reawakened a great deal of muscle soreness. “I barely had enough to walk through the door.”

Zara considered him over the length of her dark desk. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

Atar only nodded.

“Let’s talk.”

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