It was hard to fill a stomach on just berries, so Firnix and Syra got moving. With bleary eyes and legs full of lead, the two shuffled along the side of the river. Neither had any idea how to head to Mistbound Lake, but their minds were occupied with finding a place to sleep first.

  The sun crept across the sky. Along the way, Syra talked at length on the Soulcasting capabilities and tendencies of the four Redcloaks, but Firnix was too tired to pay attention, so he nodded along absently. He was content enough staring intently at plants they passed on the walk that he’d only previously seen as drawings and descriptions in books.

  Along the way, he had to explain a concept most children learned at the same time they learned addition and subtraction.

  “Firnix, Firnix! I remember you mentioning something about a Trunk back in the root cave,” she said. “And something about a Branch ability, back at the glade. What are those?”

  I really don’t want to talk about this, he thought.

  He blinked rapidly to keep awake, then turned to glance at her. Judging by the unexplainable energy still burbling beneath her sleep-deprived self, she wouldn’t let the matter go. And upsetting a Soulcaster, even one as seemingly innocent as her, could never end well.

  “Have you heard of the conceptual Soulcasting tree?” he asked wearily.

  “No. What is it?”

  “The Soulcasting tree is the prevalent theoretical model for Soulcasting abilities. One component is the Root, which encapsulates passive improvements to the soul and ardor control. At your rank, it just means being able to see and interact with our own ardor.”

  “My rank?”

  “Have you not heard of ranks? The stages of advancement?”

  “No.”

  “That’s fine,” he sighed. “The stages, from weakest to strongest, are Base, Medial, Adept, and Apex, but I believe you won’t have to worry about advancement anytime soon. All you need to know is we’re Base Soulcasters. Every Soulcaster starts there. There’s limits to what our abilities can do, for each of Root, Trunk, and Branch.”

  “You explained Root, but what’s Trunk and Branch?”

  “Those are the other two parts of the conceptual tree. Trunk encapsulates physical improvements. It’s the reason you’re many times stronger and resilient than any normal human.”

  And the reason no ordinary weapons can harm the more powerful Soulcasters. They’re near invincible to all but each other.

  Syra patted her stomach. “I guess I have my Trunk to thank for helping me survive my lightning outbursts, huh?”

  “It’s a purely conceptual term.”

  “Alright, and what’s Branch?”

  “The same way a tree has many branches, there are many possible classes of abilities that fall under Soulcasting’s Branch.” Like making spheres of orange light. Firnix collected himself, fighting to keep his gorge down. “Everyone has one particular focus. Yours has to do with lightning. Most Soulcasters develop Forms around their particular Branch.”

  “So that’s why…” she glanced sidelong at him. “I’ve been wanting to learn this for years now. You don’t know how much I appreciate learning this. So— so what are the kinds of Branches? There’s lightning, there’s wind, fire, what else?”

  “Actually, all of those belong to the same Branch. According to the conceptual tree model, I mean.”

  “Huh?”

  He halted to gather his thoughts, watching the running, swirling water of the river. He only knew as much Soulcasting theory as anyone else, but it was enough to place her ability. And his own.

  “There’s five widely accepted Branches, along with some others rumored to exist—”

  “Tell me about the rumored ones!”

  Firnix pursed his lips. She must think this is a game. He didn’t put much stock in the rumored Branches, and he hadn’t met any who did either. One rumored Branch was said to grant the ability to gain power rivaling the goddess Auri. A child’s tale.

  “Wouldn’t you rather know more about your own Branch?” he tried.

  “Oh, of course! So you think I’m on the same Branch as Jeol and Duri?”

  He nodded. “You all fall under the Elemental Branch, the most common one. You can cast ardor into a particular element, either based on mass or energy. Forms can build on properties of that element, or, I suppose, the way Soulcaster sees the element, to allow for special abilities based on those properties.”

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  “Properties? Like how my lightning is really fast? That could make me fast?”

  “Possibly.”

  He could see more questions ready to burst through her lips. There were plenty more details he could’ve shared, but he hastily moved onto the other Branches.

  “The next most common Branch is Enhancement. Enhancers can imbue objects with ardor. Many are weapon-type Enhancers, who cast Forms through a particular weapon. Some Enhancers instead enhance parts of their bodies.”

  Syra frowned. “I don’t know any of those.”

  “Next most common after that is Summoning. Summoners can make contracts called Soulbonds with animals or plants.”

  Firnix recalled Grand Warden Cerrejon, an Adept Summoner, and his behemoth of a pet snake. He shuddered.

  “Then there’s fusion. Fusers can create artifacts or items, called fusions, by collecting materials and infusing them with ardor. Each fuser can only create fusions that follow their own guiding principle, which could be anything from something literal like ‘cold’ to something abstract like ‘death’”.

  “That sounds like what Da can do,” Syra said. “Or, could do. Elkah made a law preventing him from making any offensive fusions that could accidentally hurt her.”

  She was a careful woman. Fusers had among the most unique of abilities; no wonder she’d prevent that uncertainty by eliminating it entirely. It was a miracle he’d escaped from right under her nose.

  “And what about you?” Syra asked. “What’s your Branch?”

  “Based on the Form I unlocked, it must be the fifth and last real Branch,” Firnix said. “Also the least common one.”

  “If it’s rare, it must be striking! I’m kind of jealous now. Is it the strongest?”

  “For combat purposes, it’s the least powerful.” In Arla, combat purposes were all that really mattered. But he wasn’t concerned about that. He wouldn’t use his Branch abilities any longer, after all.

  “It’s a Branch called Harmony. Anyone with the Branch is called a sage. Abilities are focused on connecting to nature, focused on a particular aspect unique to the sage. Whatever my aspect is, Ardor Eye has to be a Harmony Form. Base sages are limited to perceiving environmental ardor, and that’s exactly what my Form did.”

  “Only perceiving? You can’t do anything with it? Like, strike me, uh, attack with it?”

  “No.” Not as a Base sage. “As I said, Harmony is not suited for combat.”

  Syra’s face fell, but only for a fleeting moment. “But that’s such a useful skill. Even Jeol couldn’t do what you did to escape the Root Horror, and he’s really strong!”

  Firnix kept silent as they continued walking along the riverside. He couldn’t tell what her angle was. Mockery? Simply running away wouldn’t against other Soulcasters. His power was too limited. But it was the for the best; all the less temptation that could corrupt his mind.

  It took a few hours, but the village finally came into view, bisected by the river. Syra broke into a sprint, energized by the sight. Firnix hastened to follow, but with some trepidation. They desperately needed food, and a place to sleep, so the village was a welcome sight — but he was worried about hostility from the villagers. The people from the last village hadn’t given him the warmest welcome. His hand subconsciously slipped over where he’d been stabbed.

  This village didn’t look much different from Sylvanshade at the ground level. There was more to it, though. Overhead, ladders and bridges swayed gently in the wind, leading to and from a few houses built over the thick branches of the surrounding greatwood trees.

  On the ground, the tightly packed wooden shacks draped in vegetation and moss gave off the impression the place was abandoned to nature, but the many people milling about dispelled that notion.

  A quaint, picturesque scene, if not for the Umbras on their foreheads.

  Some of them noticed Firnix and Syra, but they didn’t seem very interested or surprised to see the two. That was a relief. Firnix had worried Elkah would make a new law to capture anyone wearing dark green robes like his own, or anyone with silver hair like Syra’s.

  It was a mystery why Elkah hadn’t made a new law like that, but perhaps she’d been confident that the two had died in the underground cave, or perhaps she couldn’t make a new law as easily as he thought. There was too much he didn’t know.

  They made their way through the dirt thoroughfares. He kept an ear out for any sign of danger, but there was nothing but a sort of rural peace he hadn’t experienced before. The murmur of the river bisecting the village was an undercurrent to the muffled sounds of talking, the leaves crunching underfoot, and the soughing of the wind.

  “See that?” Syra looked back to him with sudden excitement, then pointed to a particular large three-leveled building beside the river. “That has to be an inn. You know what that means?”

  “Food and shelter?”

  She paused. “Oh, right. That’s important, too. But, what it really means is that this is a drake village. Elkah introduced them all around Oberon Island starting a few decades ago. I’ve always wanted to see one!”

  “What do you mean by a drake village?” he asked. “Do they hunt forest drakes here?” He wasn’t sure how that could even be possible, but he wouldn’t be shocked to learn they had some method for hunting even those fearsome predators. He’d already seen many things he wouldn’t have believed before setting foot on this island. He couldn’t be shocked by anything at this point.

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Hunt drakes? No, drake villages are for contracting drakes, to ride on them far across the island.”

  “R-ride drakes?” he stuttered in shock. “But no dragons of any kind have ever been tamed!”

  “They’re not tamed, I don’t think,” she said, scratching her cheek absently. “Drake villages just provide a huge amount of meat for the drakes. In exchange, the drakes allow some trips for travelers to ride on their backs.”

  That was still incomprehensible. How had the practice started? From what he’d read about drakes, such an exchange would go very differently. If villagers presented a large sum of meat as an offering, the drakes would accept it, then promptly treat the villagers as dessert.

  “And this is exactly what we needed,” she went on. “On a drake, we’ll have the speed to cross the island’s breadth in just a few days. We can search for the lake with ease.”

  They reached the inn’s doorstep before he could ask any further questions. The matter slipped from his mind, however, as thoughts of eating his first square meal in almost two days flooded his mind. He’d only eaten some berries, and his rations had more than spoiled in his bag during his time underground.

  He slid open the door and entered.