Zachary Scott
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Chapter 108 - Settling In
🕑 Added 2025-06-26 15:42:48 +0000 UTCSleeping an hour a night had an odd effect on my perception of time. Every day felt about thirty percent longer, which made it feel like time was passing that much more slowly.
Two weeks ago, I’d passed the Aspirant’s Guild initiation test with Lyria. Two weeks, but it feels like I’ve accomplished a month’s worth of progress in the short amount of time.
I rolled out of the cursed bedroll, brushed off some bed bugs and used Devour Mana to heal the itchy bumps they left all over my body.
My bedroll made a low, growling sound as red magic radiated from it. I carefully rolled it up and sent it to my slip space, then sat down cross-legged on my personal space floor.
With the hour per day I gave myself to play and gamble on Vice, I’d been slowly building up my funds.
And then spending a little too much of them upgrading my personal space. I checked daily, but they didn’t have the enchanted bathtub upgrade Lyria had in her personal space in stock yet. Instead, I’d settled for a refilling bucket of water and a drain in the corner of my room. It wasn’t luxurious, but it meant I didn’t need to use common washrooms anymore, which was a great perk.
I’d also upgraded my flooring to “Havartian Darkwood.” Whatever it was, it looked nice and was an improvement over the splintery stuff I used to have in here. I had some poorly made furniture for storing and stashing various things I didn’t want crowding my slip space, a rug, and I’d applied one more size upgrade.
It gave me room to set aside a nice open space for my training dummy and practice sessions. I left the rest of the room for living space, which was where I’d placed the couch.
I summoned Pebble and watched him roll around the little wooden course Hoot helped me build for him. It reminded me of a miniature skate park, and Pebble could never get enough of it.
Hoot was also surprisingly happy to take time away from building furniture for the guild hall to do anything that would make Pebble happy.
I summoned Gregory with a flash of magic in the training area. He appeared, chitin shield held at the ready. Of my Awaken Mana summons, Gregory was definitely the weak link. Granted, the… thing that came when I used the spell on a Soul class corestone was absolutely not meant for combat, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t meant to be. There was no point in trying to train that thing. And I was pretty sure I’d never show anybody it unless my life depended on it for some… strange reason.
“Ready?” I asked Gregory.
He didn’t move, which meant he was ready.
I grabbed one of the stones we used for his blocking practice and palmed it. “Alright. Remember. Don’t let this hit the training dummy.”
Gregory didn’t move.
I threw the stone at the training dummy. Gregory lunged to try to block it, but his spindly beetle legs caught themselves on one another and he face planted, landing shield-first.
The pebble plinked off the training dummy’s chest.
“Alright, not terrible,” I said carefully. Gregory didn’t handle criticism well, so I had to be gentle about it. “Let’s try thinking about where you’ll put your feet before you have to do it, okay? Visualize… walking.”
I moved to help Gregory up, noting the strange way summoned creatures always felt, like there was a slick layer of mist surrounding them that was cool to the touch and left a subtle coldness on my skin for several seconds.
“Again,” I said, cocking my arm.
I threw, and to my shock, Gregory jumped through the air like he was the secret service trying to take a bullet for the president.
The stone missed his shield and hit him right between the eyes.
He landed hard, sliding a foot or two before laying motionless, arms and legs spread wide and his eyes were closed.
I picked him up and shook him with excitement, smiling wide. “You did it, buddy!”
Gregory sleepily opened his eyes and then raised his arms in the air, pumping his small fists in victory as his body vibrated. When I set him down, he rushed to the corner of the room and dropped several round pellets of excrement, which was another way he showed his excitement.
“Okay, okay,” I said, handing him his shield again. “Don't get cocky. Let's see if you can do it twice in a row.”
We'd been at this for nearly two weeks now, ever since I'd established something resembling a routine in Thrask. My days had fallen into a predictable pattern that was both comforting and productive. Wake up after exactly one hour of sleep, train with my summons for about an hour, practice my spells and push for tier level upgrades, which had so far eluded me, work on my meditation, and then do some strength training and combat forms with my training dummy. All told, it was about four or five hours of hard training every morning while the rest of Eros slept. I used the rest of my free time to run various errands around the city, along with a daily ritual of asking around and looking for Thorn, Sylara, Ramzi, and Zahra.
During the waking hours, I spent a lot of my time doing combat training at the Aspirant’s Guild and enjoying the process of trying to push my guild rank higher while holding back from using all but a couple of my abilities.
All told, it was a routine I deeply enjoyed, but I knew I still wasn’t pushing myself hard enough. Without real combat and real stakes, the actual progress of my experience and ability tiers was painfully slow. I’d grown used to seeing things advance at breakneck pace, but now I could see what Lyria meant about the normal pace of progression. Even with my prestige benefits, two weeks of practicing without real stakes had barely moved the needle. I hadn’t even gained a single level yet.
If the tournament wasn’t coming in two weeks, I would’ve felt pressured to move on and go looking for real danger. I had been tempted a few times to head back to the Black Wood and see if grinding on some high level Wood Rank creatures would level me up faster. For now, though, I felt like this work was still important. I’d advanced so quickly in such a short period of time that my mastery of skills and combat felt like it was lagging behind my actual levels and skill tiers.
“Last one for this morning,” I said, pulling my arm back and taking aim at the target dummy. “Make it count, buddy.”
I threw the rock, but Gregory was ready. He shifted his weight, angled the shield, and—
The deflection was perfect. The rock hit his shield dead-center.
“Two in a row!” I cheered. “Greg, you beautiful beetle bastard, you're actually getting good at this!”
He did a kind of slow-motion, shuffling victory dance, which unfortunately ended with him tripping over his own feet and bumping into the training dummy. The dummy tipped over, knocking into a poorly made shelf I’d been stocking with books, which toppled over and landed on Gregory.
“Aaaand we're back to reality,” I muttered, carefully lifting the shelf and helping him up. “Good work though. Same time tomorrow?”
Gregory gave me what I'd learned to interpret as a salute—raising one spindly arm and tapping it against his face-stomach region—before I dismissed him back to whatever dimension summoned creatures went to when I wasn’t using them.
Time to check in with the guild.
I pushed open my personal space door, followed by Pebble, who ramped out of his little play course.
I stepped out of my personal space and into a scene of controlled chaos.
“—absolute horseshit!” Bloody Steve's voice boomed across the guild hall. “I've seen sturdier tables in a whorehouse! And trust me, those tables need to handle some serious—”
“Please,” Hoot interrupted, his cosmic owl-bear form hunched over a damaged table. “These are carefully selected virgin thornwood from the eastern slopes. The grain pattern alone took me three hours to match!”
“AHHH. Virgin, eh?” Steve grinned, showing crooked and stained teeth. “You need some proper whore wood, then. This virgin stuff is piss poor. Can't handle a real drinker's enthusiasm!”
To demonstrate, he slammed his mug down. The table didn't just crack—it split clean in half, sending splinters flying and Steve's ale splashing across the floor Hoot had just cleaned.
The sound Hoot made was laced with defeat, frustration, and probably longing for the calm of the Astral Realm he’d been pulled from when I activated my guild hall.
“Morning, everyone,” I said, stepping over the puddle of ale.
“Brynn!” Kass called out from where he was arranging flowers in a vase. Unlike everybody else, Kass and Hoot had bonded over decorating and sprucing up the guild. The two had become fast friends. “Perfect timing. We were just discussing the relative merits of virgin versus experienced wood.”
“I heard,” I said dryly. “How's everyone doing?”
A steel-tipped arrow suddenly sprouted from the exact center of a target across the hall. I hadn't even seen Perch draw his bow from where he stood in the shadows near the entrance to his own personal space, which appeared when he joined the guild several days ago.
“Your owl keeps complaining about me practicing in the hall. But my personal space is too small for anything but short range work,” Perch said softly.
“He hardly ever misses,” I said to Hoot, who was bent over with his feathery ass on display as he picked up shattered wood and looked at it with concern.
“And yet he sometimes does,” Hoot complained. “Which puts puncture wounds in the fresh wooden paneling I’ve been installing.”
“He’ll try harder to stop missing, right Perch?”
“One miss in a hundred is hardly something to complain about,” Perch grumbled.
“But you’ll try harder,” I pressed.
“Sure,” he said without much enthusiasm.
“Any word on...” I started
“I scouted the slave pens yesterday,” he said. “Your friends aren't in the main holding areas. But there are deeper areas. Areas I can’t get a view of.”
My heart sank a little, even though I'd been hearing the same report for two weeks now. Thorn, Sylara, Zahra, and Ramzi had vanished without a trace after visiting the Arcanery. Every lead had gone cold. The most logical explanation still had to be that they were being prepared for entry into the tourney, which meant my plans hadn’t changed.
“Thanks for checking,” I said. “I appreciate it.”
“You know these Guild Recall Stones are incredibly handy,” Kass said. “I found myself indisposed with a tavern-keeper’s daughter the other night. I was able to recall straight out of there when he came home. Of course, I had to hope he wasn’t home when I portaled back out, but still. Quite handy.”
“I'm sure,” I said. The Guild Recall Stones had proven to be incredibly useful. Each guild member could use theirs once a week to portal directly back to the hall from anywhere in the city. I’d only used mine once just to make sure I knew how it worked and what to expect. But other than the slight downside of having to exit where you portaled from, I could imagine several uses for these things.
“Oh!” Kass snapped his fingers. “I found three more hardwood suppliers in the merchant district. They'll deliver tomorrow. That should put us over the requirement for the guild task.”
I glanced at the bulletin board, where Hoot had been meticulously tracking our progress:
Material Request (Tier 1): 187/200 pounds of hardwood delivered
Treasury Expansion (Tier 1): 7/10 gold contributed
Proof of Glory (Tier 1): Incomplete
Grimbo and the grommets had contributed most of the wood for free and refused me when I tried to compensate them. The gold had come almost entirely from me, but Kass had generously contributed some.
Below the official tasks, someone—probably Kass—had added a note: “Guild Progress: Approximately 60% to next tier (Hoot's estimate based on cosmic vibrations or whatever)”
“How does Hoot know we're sixty percent of the way there?” I asked.
“The dimensional resonance grows stronger,” Hoot said, still mourning over his broken table. “I can feel the guild hall's eagerness to evolve. Like a butterfly in a chrysalis, if butterflies were vast cosmic entities beyond mortal comprehension.”
“Right,” I said. “Very clear, thanks.”
The guild hall did feel different than when I'd first claimed it. The walls seemed to pulse with a subtle energy, and sometimes I caught glimpses of patterns in the stone that hadn't been there before. Whatever happened when we reached the next tier, I had a feeling it would be worth the wait.
“Any other news?” I asked.
“Minara stopped by yesterday,” Bloody Steve said, unsuccessfully trying to balance his broken table. “She refused to come into my personal space. Thought I would turn on the charm and land her in my bed, I suppose. Reasonable fear, honestly. The thought may have crossed my mind.”
“Did she want something?” I asked. Minara hadn’t been able to join the guild because of her connection with the Radiant Order, but she was at least dropping in every few days, mostly to check on Lyria and try to help her with her Soulbound abilities.
“Just asked about Lyria, like usual,” Bloody Steve said with a shrug.
The door to the guild hall swung open and a sudden womp sound filled the space.
“Oh no,” Hoot whispered, eyes wide with terror.
Grommets, dozens of them, each hauling pieces of wood and leaving trails of mud, dirt, and questionable substances in their wake.
“DELIVERY!” they chorused, their womps echoing off the walls.
“Wipe your filthy feet!” Hoot wailed, but it was too late. The grommets poured in like a hairy, dirty tide, depositing wood everywhere while tracking mud across every surface Hoot had just cleaned. They had dirt trapped in their hair, between their teeth, and all over their fleshy pink feet.
Grimbo emerged last, his teacup eyes wide with pride. “We are bringing more wood. And we are bringing… surprises, too!” He gestured grandly as other grommets brought forth their “surprises”—a confused squirrel, several shiny rocks, what appeared to be someone's lost boot, and a helmet that looked suspiciously like a chamber pot.
“So much dirt,” Hoot said weakly, looking like he might faint. One grommet was actually chewing on a table leg, leaving teeth marks in more of the virgin thornwood.
“Grimbo,” I said, trying to sound grateful while also stepping between him and Hoot, who looked ready to commit murder or pass out. “This is amazing. Really. But next time could you guys… I don’t know, try to shake off some dirt before you come in? It really bothers Hoot. And ask them not to chew on the furniture.”
The grommet in question paused, eyes meeting mine as his rocky teeth stopped their chewing.
“Dirt is life!” Grimbo said happily. “Your friend is feeling… wrong. He will see.” Grimbo knelt down and rubbed some pieces of dirt into the stone. “Is he seeing? Looks better, now.”
It took another twenty minutes to get them all out, and by then, Hoot was practically catatonic. The guild hall looked like a tornado made of mud had passed through. I left Kass trying to console our custodian while I escaped to my next appointment.
The streets of Thrask were starting to feel almost familiar to me. I knew which vendors gave the best prices, which alleys to avoid, and exactly how long it took to get from the guild to the glassblower's shop in the merchant quarter.
“Brynn!” Valdas Tepper waved from behind his counter as I entered. The Riverwell refugee had put on weight since arriving in Thrask, no longer looking like he might blow away in a strong wind. His daughter peeked out from behind a curtain in the back, giving me a shy wave before disappearing again. “Here for your usual, Mr. Helmet?”
“I’ll take as many of those magic vials as you can spare, if you've got any.”
“For you?” Valdas said with a smile. “We made sure to set some aside.” He produced a cloth-wrapped bundle from under the counter. “And as promised, best deals for the man who saved our lives. We’re starting to really dial in the recipe. These should preserve your potions for a full two weeks now, maybe longer.”
I'd been slowly building my potion collection, along with the addition of these preservation vials. My personal space now had an entire shelf dedicated to my alchemical arsenal, each vial carefully labeled and organized. The variety gave me options, but I'd learned each came with its own risks.
Some potions were less useful than others and hadn’t earned a spot in my combat arsenal.
“Any new discoveries?” I asked, handing over the silver coins.
“Actually, yes.” Valdas's eyes lit up with the same entrepreneurial spark I'd first seen when the refugees arrived in Thrask and he had gold in his pocket. “We’re getting a shipment of some new sand from the distant frontiers next week. I’ve got a theory it could be far more resistant to decay. Might even push the vials to hold a fresh potion as long as a month, if we’re lucky.”
“That's incredible. You guys are really making something of this place.”
“Thanks to you,” Valdas said seriously. “If you hadn't argued for us to get a share of that nectar... well, we'd probably be begging in the streets or worse. My daughter still talks about how you stood up to that Bloody Steve character for us.”
“You earned it,” I said, uncomfortable with the gratitude. “Besides, I'm getting cheap preservation vials out of the deal.”
Valdas chuckled. “You need anything else, anything at all, you just let us know.”
After packing away my new vials, I headed for the Aspirant's Guild. The afternoon sun beat down through the hole high above in the cave ceiling as I crossed into Gloomglow District, where the ever-present mist provided some relief from the heat. The guild's fortress-like walls came into view, and I could already hear the clash of weapons from the training yard as I passed through the main gate, nodding to the guards.
I'd climbed to rank eighteen in just two weeks, a meteoric rise that had earned me both respect and suspicion from other aspirants. The trick was appearing to struggle more than I actually did—throwing in unnecessary movements, taking hits I could have avoided, winning by narrow margins instead of dominating. But winning, nonetheless.
Lyria was already in the stasis dome when I arrived, dancing around her opponent with her Wind Wall flickering in and out of existence. She'd been pushing herself hard lately, frustrated by the growing gap between our power levels despite her Soulbound advantage.
With daily mentoring sessions, she was finally starting to make some progress with her mana reserves. Minara was also working with her when she had the time, and their sessions seemed to making a big difference.
“Brynn!” A melodious voice called out. “Perfect timing. I was hoping we could spar again today.”
I turned to find Naia approaching, her practice leathers somehow managing to look like they'd been tailored specifically to... well, to look good. The dark-haired aspirant was rank fifteen, skilled with both sword and flame magic with a melee focus, and had been very interested in training with me for the past week.
“Sure,” I said, not really seeing a way to politely decline. “Same rules as yesterday?”
“Mmm, I was thinking we could try something more... intense.” She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell whatever perfume she wore. “Close quarters combat? I need to work on my inside game.”
“Sure. I could use some close quarters practice. The dome can get pretty cramped during team battles.”
She smiled, a dimple appearing on one cheek. “Exactly. You really understand combat theory. It's one of the things I admire about you.”
We entered the dome together, and I tried to focus on strategy. Naia was good—better than her rank suggested. Her flames were precisely controlled, and her sword work showed years of formal training. But she also had this habit of getting inside my guard in ways that seemed unnecessarily... close.
“Your form is excellent,” she said, pressing forward with a combination that forced me to pivot. Our bodies were inches apart for a moment. “So controlled. So... powerful.”
“Thanks,” I said, creating some distance with a Mana Shield. “Your footwork is really improving too.”
She laughed, a tinkling sound that carried across the dome. “You're sweet. Always so encouraging. Have you ever thought of private lessons?” she asked, dancing away just before my Elemental Spike caught her in the stomach.
“I barely have time for my own training,” I said, deflecting both her sword thrust and what I thought might have been a different kind of offer.
We continued sparring, and I noticed Lyria watching from outside the dome. She'd finished her own match and was standing with her arms crossed, a strange expression on her face.
When the match ended—I made it look like I’d accidentally dodged a diagonal slash and gotten a bit lucky, landing a blow to Naia’s chest that triggered stasis and ended the match.
“Nice match,” Lyria said as we exited. “Was there a reason you kept yourself so close, Naia? Brynn’s weapon is shorter than yours. It seems… dumb to stay in range when you could be using your reach.”
“Brynn wanted to work on close quarters combat” Naia said, placing a hand on my arm. “That’s what I like about him. He is always pushing himself. Always trying to work on every little detail. It’s why I love training with him. I feel like I learn something new every time.”
“I bet you do,” Lyria muttered.
Naia squeezed my arm gently. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said.
“I'll be waiting,” she said with a wink, then sauntered off toward the changing rooms.
Lyria watched her go, then turned to me with raised eyebrows. “Really?”
“What?” I asked.
“'Your form is excellent,'“ Lyria mimicked in a breathy voice. “'So controlled. So powerful.' Gods, Brynn, she was practically climbing you like a tree.”
“She was trying to work on close quarters combat. I think you’re reading way too much into it.”
Lyria stared at me. “You're joking.”
“About what?”
“She's been flirting with you for a week! Everyone in the guild has noticed. There's actually a betting pool on when you'll figure it out.”
I thought back to our interactions. The close quarters fighting, the compliments, the requests for private lessons... I could admittedly be a touch oblivious when I was focused on training, but… yeah. I could see it now. “Oh,” I said. “Oh shit.”
“There it is,” Lyria said dryly. “The great strategic mind at work. You can analyze seventeen different combat scenarios in the middle of a fight, but you can't tell when a pretty girl is throwing herself at you.”
“I just thought she was friendly,” I protested. “And dedicated to training.”
“Dedicated to something,” Lyria agreed. “Just not what you thought.”
We left the guild together, and I noticed Lyria seemed irritated. She kept making small comments about Naia's “training methods” and how some people had “no subtlety whatsoever.”
“Are you okay?” I finally asked as we walked back toward the tavern.
“I'm fine,” she said in a tone that suggested otherwise. “Just think it's unprofessional, that's all. The guild is for training, not... whatever that was.”
“You're right. I'll try to avoid training with her if it's causing a distraction.”
“I don't care who you train with,” Lyria said quickly. “Train with whoever you want. Naia, the ghost of seduction past, a succubus in her underwear. Makes no difference to me.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, now completely lost. “Good to know.”
We walked in silence for a while before Lyria spoke again, the irritation finally seeming to be gone from her voice. “I've been thinking about what Minara said. About Soulbound individuals having unique innovations.”
“Yeah? Any breakthroughs?”
“Maybe. During that fight today, I tried something different with my Wind Wall. Instead of maintaining it as a solid barrier, I let it pulse. Like a heartbeat. It used less mana. And if I was smart about it, I could time the pulses, using them only when I needed them. It was tricky, but I think with practice I could hold the wind wall far longer that way.”
“That's brilliant,” I said, genuinely impressed. “A rhythmic defense instead of a constant one.”
“That's what I thought too. I want to experiment more, but...” She trailed off, frustration creeping into her voice. “My mana pool is so small compared to yours. I get maybe five attempts before I'm drained.”
“That’s still better than it was just weeks ago. Far better. We'll figure it out,” I promised.
“Maybe,” she said, though she didn't sound convinced.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of routine activities. Checking more taverns for any sign of our missing friends. Playing Vice in the common room and winning a fair bit of coin I planned to invest in my personal space upgrades. Having dinner with the guild members where Bloody Steve nearly broke another table, prompting a ranting speech from Hoot about respect for wood.
Finally, as night fell, I retreated to my personal space for my bedtime ritual. Mentally, I was exhausted. Physically, I was sore and wanted to simply lay down.
But this extra time was my advantage. My edge. Every day I used it was a day I might gain some ground on the other prestiged gods. I’d found myself thinking about them more, lately. Wondering what they were like and which prestige paths they’d chosen.
If the burned man was one of them, which I still wasn’t sure of, it seemed like his power had come at a high cost. It reminded me of the “monkey’s paw” from Earth stories. A wish granted, but with a dark twist. I’d gained endless potential but lost all my memories. The burned man seemed to gain some kind of mastery of dark mana, but at the cost of being… trapped within it? Suffering some kind of constant pain? Forced to exist within others instead of being able to walk free?
I couldn’t say for certain.
And I’d seen Azmeria back in Riverwell being loaded into that carriage. She hadn’t looked deformed or physically twisted. So what was the price she paid, if there was one?
I wished I knew more, but I didn’t even know if I could safely plan on contacting the prestiged gods. Any one of them could want me dead, and I had to assume my prestige path was a slow growth kind of route. Like building a healthy economy in a real-time-strategy game. I needed to buy time. Press my advantage as hard as I could and grow in secrecy as long as possible.
Honestly, I needed to hope I didn’t run into any of the others. Not for a long time. Especially not Ithariel, whom I trusted least of all.
I sat cross-legged for the last part of my daily routine. Dark mana training.
With the care of somebody opening the door to a cage full of snakes, I released some of the dark mana from my core.
It felt slimy and nauseating, but also exhilarating. Every sensation was amplified, like my spiritual muscles were flooding with power until they stretched and grew to double their size. I knew what releasing too much dark mana felt like. I’d learned that in Beastden.
Too much, and I lost control. Too much, and I might not even be able to trust myself to sleep in the cursed bedroll to cleanse myself of its influence.
The key was taking it slow. Releasing a trickle at a time, carefully assessing my mental state, and only when I was sure I could handle more, I’d release another trickle.
I'd found the sweet spot through careful practice. The dark mana whispered its usual promises—power, destruction, the ability to crush my enemies and protect what was mine. I ignored it all, focusing on the mechanical process of transfer.
Two minutes in, I’d managed to take on a little more tonight than the night before. It was the most I’d held since Beastden, but I could still feel myself in control. And then I heard the voice in my head.
His voice.
Finally strong enough to hear me clearly.
The words slid through my mind like a hot knife. Not the usual whispers of corruption, but an actual voice. Masculine, amused, and terrifyingly clear.
The burned man was speaking to me again for the first time in weeks.
My concentration wavered, but I slammed the doorway to my core shut, frantically testing myself for signs that I wasn’t in control. But I was. I could hear his mind, but he didn’t seem to have enough strength to actually influence me.
Interesting.
Don't stop on my account, the voice continued. We've been trying to have this conversation for weeks. Your little ritual here is the only time you open yourself enough for true communication.
“Burned Man,” I said through gritted teeth.
Such a crude name. But I suppose it serves. Yes, Brynn Stygos. Or do you prefer Seraphel?
My hands trembled, but I kept the mana flowing. Thirty seconds left.
Nothing to say? How disappointing. I did always prefer your sister, though. You were always this way. Always tucked away in your little corner, practicing. Training. Endlessly testing and trying to improve. So. Fucking. Exhausting.
“What?” The word escaped before I could stop it.
Oh, yes, I imagine you still want to know what happened to your sister. You’ll need to keep letting me talk like this. Keep giving me at least this much freedom. Once I’m sure I can trust you, maybe I’ll tell you where you could find her. Of course, I also need to know you’re strong enough to survive trying to help her. Right now, you would be crushed like an insect if you went after her. But that’s what you’d do, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Your savior complex. You were always trying to save everything and everyone. Just look at you now. The world hangs in the balance and you’re… what? About to risk your life to save a few slaves you just met?”
“Who are you?” I asked.
“She saw you coming, you know. Saw all of us falling like stars. Saw what we gave up and what we gained.”
“The fool keeping her doesn't understand that godhood chose us. We didn't choose it. But your sister... oh, she knows things. Things about the real threat. Things about what's coming through the rifts.”
I crawled into the cursed bedroll suddenly, closed my eyes, and willed myself to fall asleep as soon as possible.
The burned man’s voice continued in my mind, laughter filling my thoughts.
“Ah, you want to shut me out, hm? We’ll talk again, Seraphel. You have so much to learn. So much I could help you learn. You want to save them all, and I can help you do it. Together, we can do great things, Seraphel. I don’t even need control. I only need you to listen.”
With effort, I tuned him out, focusing on my own thoughts.
If my sister was really here on Eros, I did need to find her.
I would find her. But maybe he was right. I needed to be stronger first. But how much stronger?
And I was going to find her.
The tournament was still important—Thorn and the others needed my help. But finding my sister felt like it was now on the horizon. Something I was moving toward, even if it might still be farther in my future than I'd like.
The Burned Man's words and laughter echoed in my mind as consciousness faded.
Comments
Ricky Kukowski
Has he been repeatedly completing the hardwood quest? Because 200 pounds of oak is only like 16 8’ long 2x4s. And if you don’t need it nice, just go cut down a single tree and you’ll more than complete it. A single mature maple tree for instance will weigh around 3 to 4 tons. About 60’ tall and 1.5’ diameter trunk.
Andres Ceva
Thanks for the chapter! seemed to (be) making a big difference
Mr.Turtle
Thanks for the chapter!
James Faulkner
Interesting, seems like the burned man has gotten more conciliatory? Or maybe just craftier lol. I think this is the first time he said he didn’t need control
