Unbound

"He is still unconscious, your Grace. The Autarch struck him quite powerfully. I'm...surprised we found so little harm done," the Henaari woman said to Vess as she led her deeper within the single-story healer's ward. They hadn't any dedicated healers yet, not unless those mages in the Legion had such talents, but a few Henaari herbalists manned the halls in order to better care for their scouts and hunters. The woman leading Vess was tall, with the signature high forehead of her people, and large, wide-set eyes that made them look a touch too different from a Human. They hadn't the same fragile beauty of an Elf, but the grace was there, she could admit that much.

"The Autarch would never have struck to kill, Miss...?"

"Pylyk. Gatherer Pylyk."

"Gatherer Pylyk. Their duel was a formality, to...settle an old debate." She managed not to grind her teeth at the words, though her blood all but boiled at the both of them. To think, fighting over her like she was some...some object. Honor, pfah!

"Well, begging your pardon, your Grace. Remind me never to argue with the Autarch."

The hallways they traversed were all made of a uniformly featureless granite, the bedrock of the area she was told. However, the austere design had been softened by the addition of wooden panels and floors, as well as borders and lintels all carved with a hundred tiny figures and birds. Ravens, she had no doubt. The Henaari were remarkable craftsman, another point in their favor—truly, Vess would have been a great fan of them, had they worshipped a proper god instead of one of those creatures.

"Here we are," Gatherer Pylyk said before unlatching a wide wooden portal, carved with a dizzying design of leaves over a sleek hunting drake. Vess' fingers lingered on the door as she passed.

"Did you carve this for him?" she asked.

Gatherer Pylyk inclined her head. "The room was too bare to be without, so we drew inspiration from your guardian. He follows the Path of the Drake, does he not?"

The woman smiled gently. "We have eyes to see and ears to hear, your Grace. Few things stay secret for long, even in a land as large as ours."

Instead of addressing that, Vess swept past her and into the anteroom beyond. "Please see that we are not disturbed."

"...As you wish, your Grace."

Pylyk retreated, that same gentle smile on her face as the door closed with a soft, muted thunk. Vess was left alone in a dark antechamber with no furniture of any kind, only the carved detail of a chair rail depicting more ravens in flight. A single doorway sat opposite the entrance, and it lacked any sort of door at all, instead opening into a slightly larger room with an oversized bed and a simple chest of drawers. Courtesy of the Henaari's odd Blessings, no doubt. A bulk of blankets sat atop the bed, breathing deeply.

Vess walked closer.

"You have been practicing you Steps. I barely heard you," he said. Darius groaned as he sat up, letting blankets fall from his chest. "I'm impressed."

"Darius."

"Vessilia. I am happy to see you alive."

"You doubted it?" she said with a furrowing of her brows.

"I doubt everything, most of all your safety. That is my job," he said, far more calmly than she had expected.

"You came here for me," she said before planting herself on the smooth stone floor. "I intend to stay here. With my allies and friends. If you try, I—"

"As you wish."

"What?" Vess was poleaxed. The furrow of her brows deepened. "What...what is this?"

"An...admission." Darius' face creased with a frown of his own. His gaze drifted to the sole window, shuttered against the gathering chill. Not that it would have affected either of them overmuch. "Event have outpaced me. My sense of honor, of duty to your Father, it has been tested time and again these past months. The Guild, the Revenants, the Inquisition. I was to be a bulwark against danger, especially after the Foglands. Your Father...when he received that missive that said you were missing, he was in a rage. I was to find you, protect you, and train you in the Guild's stead." He sighed, and it was like the big man was deflating. "I have only succeeded in pushing you further away."

Vess said nothing, only watched as Darius wrestled with something. She could hear the edges of it—his Spirit, usually guarded, seemed tired. "I have decided to stop pushing. I was appointed your guardian, but I cannot be there for you if I am discarded. So, I will follow your lead."

"If you truly felt this, then why the duel? What possible purpose could that have served?" Vess clenched her jaw against her urge to accept the man's contrite words. Darius was stone stubborn, a mirror of her Father, and she didn't trust his about face. "If you had won, you would have accosted the System anointed Lord of the Territory within his own Stronghold. My friend. You think I would have simply gone with you?"

"No. But it was necessary," Darius rumbled. He lifted his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if literally grasping for words. "If I am to place myself in the...Autarch's chain of command, then I had to test his mettle. I had to know, for certain, what he could do. I have his measure now."

"No, you really do not," Vess said. She shook her head. "Did you not see it? He was holding back."

"What? That's..." Darius' eyes flashed back to Vess' own. "Explain." He gritted his teeth. "Please."

"No. I am more interested in what you meant before," Vess said, snagging a chair from the corner. It was carved all over with trees and ravens. "You said my father was sent a missive. From whom? When?"

"It was...from a concerned House. A minor one in Haarwatch. We received it approximately a week after you had left. Why does it matter? All of that was months ago and hardly pertinent any longer."

"Humor me. It was sent via Manaship? Waystone?" she asked, leaning forward.

"It was ciphered along the Waystone network, yes," he said.

"An official missive, sent along channels that would have taken months to reach on foot, and would have cost them a significant fee in gold," Vess murmured, half to herself. "And you never questioned its provenance?"

"I searched for the House when I arrived in Haarwatch, but they had—"

"Fallen mysteriously, no doubt," Vess finished for him.

Darius nodded, worry blooming in his face. "Yes. The last of their line had died beyond the Haargate a month before I arrived. Their manse in the Sunrise Quarter was bought up by another party. What are you doing?"

Yet Vess was already leaving, her skirts swishing furiously.

After Felix brought Rafny to see Harn, he discovered that she had not come alone. Thirteen apprentices were in tow, most of which he recognized from the Dwarf's smithy back in Haarwatch, but a few that seemed fresh recruits. When he asked her about it, he learned that was exactly what happened. Before they had left Haarwatch, the Coldfires had put out a call for new apprentices. All of them had promise, he was assured, and were more than willing to relocate to the Foglands.

Felix hadn't been sure what to expect from Rafny, but she had fallen in beside Harn with little issue, only providing him with assistance when he requested it. For his part, Harn wasn't shy about asking questions, and soon the two of them were thick as thieves. He had left them to it, loudly talking about the right sort of weapons for their growing forces.

The Legion, right, Felix thought as he left the Crafting Hall. He lingered around the Beacon upon the landing, an area now fitted with Henaari-crafted benches for some reason. I should go visit them sometime, shouldn't I? There was no answer from within him, as Pit had gone off with A'zek again, but he didn't need one. He'd provided the Legion with a type of priority housing against the base of the cliff, though each were relegated to one of several long barracks-style structures. Some Stone Shaping had carved them from the cliff itself, and he'd reinforced them with more of that blue-black stone he'd conjured to create the wall and towers. I'll give them a bit to settle in before visiting.

Yeah. That was for the best. He definitely wasn't putting off dealing with them.

"Felix!"

Coming up onto the Beacon's landing was a familiar man with dark hair and a closely-cropped beard. He had a young girl riding on his shoulders, and his smile was wide as anything.

"Hector!" Felix closed the distance and took the Inscriptionist's hand. "Been a while. How are things back home?"

"Good enough," the man said, fumbling to get his daughter off his shoulders. She was bigger than before, two or so inches taller if his memory served—and it usually did. "We finished up the Wall. Had to patch it with steel, but we scrubbed the Archon's inscriptions from it and rerouted the city's defensive power back into the structure. It's not pretty, but it'll serve."

"That's great to hear," Felix said in genuine relief. "I was worried that a monster horde would tear into the city sooner or later."

"Oh, they tried. Legion helped a lot with that," Hector said before bending toward his daughter. "Amaya, my light, do you remember Felix?"

The little girl nodded, her dark brown eyes wide and assessing. "You're the Monster my Mommy complains about."

Felix grinned and Hector tutted. "Amaya, don't be rude." He looked back up at him and shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Felix. I don't know where she gets these things."

"I heard you and Mommy arguing on the ship," she said quite calmly. "It was very loud."

"Ah," Hector said, his face heating up. "Well, ah, I didn't know you were awake, dearest. I hope we didn't wake you."

"No. I—" Amaya shrugged and leaned into her father's leg. Not shy but...hiding something. "It's hard to sleep, up so high."

"Oh, little light, it's okay to be frightened," Hector began, but his daughter shook her head and clung tighter to his leg. "Oh dear."

Felix knelt, so he could look in her eyes. She did appear tired, now that he was looking for it. But he felt something else from her small Spirit, and it wasn't fear or timidity. "You weren't afraid."

Hector raised an eyebrow, but Amaya cautiously peeked her head out. She shook it, once.

"You were..." Felix let his Affinity expand, skimming across the timbre of their Spirits and others nearby. He grinned. "Curious. You wanted to see the Mana engine."

What else was there to be curious about on a Manaship? Felix had been eager to see one himself, the first time he'd piloted a ship.

"It's not fair that only Daddy's apprentices could see it! I'm big now," Amaya said with surprising force. She looked up at her father, and there was steel in her gaze. "Please? I want to know how it works, Daddy."

Felix couldn't keep the smile off his face as he stood and watched Hector melt. "The engines are dangerous, little light. Perhaps—"

"Perhaps she could take a look at my Glyphworks," Felix suggested. The girl's eyes lit up and Hector shook his head, a grin plastered on his own face. "I know you want to anyway, right?"

"You've caught me. We climbed into your Temple when we heard where the Crafting Halls were located." He looked at the three sets of stairs, leading upward. "Up there?"

"Middle one. Big white door covered in sigils," Felix said. "I would've shown you eventually, but I foolishly thought everyone would want to settle in a bit." He laughed. "You're the second group to find their way up here."

"Oh? I suppose Coldfire stomped her way into the Forge, did she?" said another voice. Felix had sensed her, and those with her when he'd stretched his Affinity. "Typical. She never had any patience."

A woman with cold eyes and a severe face mounted the steps. She wore a woven gown over pants and a long-sleeved shirt, while at her waist was a thick, girdle-like belt absolutely filled with pockets and straps. Her long, dark hair was done up in a series of complicated braids to keep it out of her face, and a small pair of spectacles sat across her nose. Behind her were a score of young men and women of various Races—mostly Human—and a few he even recognized. Alchemy and inscription apprentices, the lot of them.

"Aenea. Welcome to my Crafting Halls," Felix said. "I see you've coming looking for my Lab."

"Indeed. I was informed that you were in the Temple, somewhere." She sniffed. "When your...assistant warned us away from the deeper tunnels, it informed us of your location."

"Oh, right, forgot to mention that," Hector said, sheepishly. "The Golem you have pointed us in your direction. Said we weren't allowed deeper into the Temple." He huffed a breath. "Must say, it gave me a fright. Never seen a talking Golem before. How'd you manage that?"

"I didn't," Felix said. "And he's right. You're not allowed," Felix said. He had a hard time not sounding like he was apologizing, but weeks of leading had given him practice. "Perhaps someday, but for now access to the Temple is restricted to myself and Karys."

"The...Golem. Of course," Hector said, mustering his good nature again. "It is your Stronghold, after all. Right, dearest?"

Aenea waved away the concern in Hector's voice. "Naturally. You are the Autarch after all."

Indeed. A cold woman, Aenea; she had never really liked him. Thankfully, his ability to learn quickly and his advanced version of Analyze had earned him some favor in the past. At least she's playing nice. She wants to see the Alchemical Lab as much as anyone. Felix smiled and felt everyone except Amaya shift, fear and eagerness warring against one another. Lucky for her, I need the help.

"How about I show you just what this place can do?" he said.

Zara leaned against the wall of her new home, willing the cool stone to drive the fatigue from her bones. That boy, Atar, had guided her to this particular house up against the cliff. Far from the elaborately carved stairs leading up toward the Temple proper. Isolated, one might say, with only the Frost Giants to one side and a bevy of Legion barracks on the other. The little fire mage had nothing to say to that point, but his Spirit had swayed more than a Zurian veildancer when she mentioned it.

He doesn't trust me, she realized. She hummed, drawing some of vibration from the dark granite behind her, pushing away a portion of her aches. Felix's grown guarded, and the feeling has spread among his team. Her skin felt hot to the touch and her skin clammy, but no Status Condition blinked in her personal display. Instead, it was her Aspects that plagued her; they were still recovering, Spirit most of all, and the push into the Foglands had not done the Sorcerer any favors.

Damned boy, making me chase him across the Continent. She took three measured breaths, letting her Skills and Chant work their magic. The Grand Harmony sang through her, soothing her fevered flesh with a hymn of solid stones, frozen winds, and water attuned Mana. Aquamarine power flooded her channels, cycling slowly. And he neglected to mention a blasted Spirit Tree.

Seated as she was on her simple bed and hay-stuffed mattress, Zara could see its branches overhead. They blocked the sky, darkening an otherwise bright afternoon, filling it with a false night. And false stars. She could see the Spirit Fruit, dangling hundreds of feet up, unguarded and utterly packed with potency. What changed? I need him to talk to me.

The sound of hollow knocking shook through her home's barren interior. Zara flexed her Perception and frowned. It was not who she expected. Not at all.

She stood and walked silently down the solid, shaped-stone stairs and paused at the front door. Gathered herself and waited. Just before the knocks sounded again, she pulled open the door, leaving Evie Aren with her fist upraised. Atar was next to her, his olive complexion ashen at her appearance. She simply let an arch smile tilt her mouth before walking away, toward what she assumed was a sitting room.

"Zara, we're here to—"

"Come in if you're staying. And help me find a kettle in this place," she said. "I'd kill for some tea."

With a minor hum, she yanked the doors closed behind them.

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