Wyn was afraid to get closer, worried that if he did, the dream would shatter like glass. Tine stared back from atop the stairs, eyes slowly widening, like it took a moment to understand that he was really there.

  “Tine?” he said again, still reconciling Sadirah’s younger sister with the girl in front of him now. There was no doubt about it—she’d undergone apotheosis, but somehow, she’d survived, like Zavi had. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  Her whole body shook at the question, and more tears welled up in her eyes. Unable to form the words, she just nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

  The wheel clattered out of his hands as he crossed the gap in an instant, wrapping his arms around her tight. She tensed at the unexpected movement, then relaxed after a breath, burying her face in his chest.

  “You’re alive,” he whispered, relieved tears slipping out. “You’re alive. You’re alive.” Desperately, he pulled her tighter, and was glad she couldn’t see the smile on his face, as he felt pure joy from the bottom of his heart. “Thank you. Thank you. I’m so glad—so glad you’re safe.”

  “Everyone else… is gone,” she whimpered. “Sadirah… Arnim…”

  “I know.” What else could he say? “I know. But you’re safe now, I promise… I promise you’re safe.”

  Her fingers twisted tighter in the back of his shirt, and for a while, she just cried quietly, the sound muffled against his chest. Eventually her breathing steadied a little, and she pulled slightly away.

  “It started hurting…” she said quietly. “When the monsters came out of the ground, Arnim grabbed my hand and said we had to go home.”

  They weren’t here, Wyn realized. They were out in the city.

  Tine’s voice trembled. “But I couldn’t move—my legs wouldn’t work, and my chest hurt so bad. He tried to grab me, but then he started hurting too. It came back Wyn—black cracks all over.”

  Wyn’s fist tightened. He knew for certain he’d cured both of them of the Withering. But Iskareth was responsible for the ‘disease’, and he’d probably reinfected them himself. If Wyn could cure them all, then it would have made Sadirah less likely to stay.

  Bastard.

  “Arnim hugged me, and he said it was going to be okay. He kept saying it.” Her gaze unfocused slightly, like she was trying to remember everything. “Everything got dark, and tight. I couldn’t see anything, but he was still there. He was holding me really hard, and I told him it hurt. He said it was okay.

  “I think I fell asleep after that. And when I woke up, I wasn’t stuck anymore. But Arnim wasn’t there. I called for him, but he didn’t answer. He was holding me before…” She looked at the black lines spiraling down her arms. Her voice grew even quieter, and fresh tears shimmered in her eyes. “But when I woke up, it was just me. I ran back here, but…”

  She couldn’t finish.

  But of course, Wyn knew the rest. It surrounded them, silent as a grave. The ruined courtyard behind them, the shattered buildings, Sadirah’s body… Spirits, had Tine seen her? Eia had been right, this place was poison, they should be anywhere else.

  “Tine,” Wyn said softly, “Let’s leave, okay? I can take you back to a safe place, with a nice warm bed.”

  Immediately though, she shook her head. “No.”

  Her answer surprised him, but he looked again. The stairwell they were in was a deep dark, descending even further into shadow, where there was nothing to see. The broken doorway above blocked what little light remained. There was nothing here but them. Compared to the ruined streets, it was almost peaceful.

  “I don’t want to go,” she whispered. “I don’t want to see.”

  Ah. Wyn knew what she meant. He’d been here before. What had he wanted back then? Someone to coax him out of the cellar? No, not at all. It had to happen eventually, she couldn’t stay here forever. But right now, he didn’t think that was best.

  He exhaled softly. “Alright… Then I’ll stay with you.”

  Carefully, he shifted, settling onto the step beside her, resting his back against the stone. She hesitated for only a moment before curling closer, leaning against him, her head in his lap.

  “Wyn…” she whispered. “Will you hold my hand?”

  “Of course.”

  Her small fingers curled around his and tightened, like she was worried he might leave if she let go. They stayed like that for a long time, silent, save for the occasional shuddering breath. Somewhere in the distance, a loose shutter knocked softly against a wall in the wind. Eia dimmed her glow, hovering nearby like a lantern.

  How did you survive? Wyn wanted to ask. Though he knew Tine didn’t even understand what had happened. It was supposed to be impossible, and yet it had happened. Arnim hadn’t made it out either, but she hadn’t mentioned a monster around when she woke up, as he would have expected. Did that have something to do with it? In the end, Wyn could only guess.

  Amidst the low, smooth chirps of distant night birds, and the gentle hum of the spirits, Tine’s breathing eventually grew steadier, quieting as she drifted off in Wyn’s lap. Her hand loosened around his, but he kept ahold of it, offering any comfort he could.

  “It’s terrible.” Eia flew down and gently touched a hand to Tine’s cheek. Her tone was soft, but tinged with a righteous anger Wyn had never heard before.

  “Yes, it is.”

  She looked up, sitting against his leg. “What will you do?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to talk to the others. But considering her situation, it won’t be simple.”

  “And yet, you feel happy?”

  Wyn smiled sadly. “It’s terrible. But I can’t help it. It’s just… someone else lived. I can really help someone. I can still try to save her, because I’m still here.” He chuckled. “How ugly is that?”

  “Wyn…”

  “It’s fine. I can’t be sad, see? She’ll be sad enough for the both of us.” He reached back and pulled the Eightfold Wheel off the ground, running his fingers along its smooth gold surface. The craftsmanship was beyond anything he’d ever seen, bearing no marks of its construction, like it had been born from a thought alone. Nonetheless, it was inert in his mana sight, its purpose opaque. “I just… I have to get stronger.”

  Eia landed atop it, her glow catching the cut of the clear gemstone in the center. It sparkled more brilliantly than any stone he’d seen before.

  “Do you know how it works?” he asked.

  “Not any more than you.”

  From within his pocket, he pulled out the seed Haoma had given him, holding it closer to Eia so he could see. It was about the size of his thumbnail, and strangely shaped, with two ‘wings’ like the inside of a walnut. Those two things represented everything left to him by a great spirit, and between the two of them, he could grow stronger—if only he knew how.

  “Shouldn’t it be obvious?” he muttered.

  Couldn’t Haoma have given me some kind of hint at least?

  “Have you noticed?” Eia asked. “Ever since you bound that seed, our own bond has gotten stronger.”

  Wyn shook his head. After all that had happened, he hadn’t paid much attention, much less noticed a change like that. His own spirit fire felt weak, but it might have just been his injuries.

  “The flames are stronger,” she said. “Not as much as while we were bound to Haoma, but still, they feel at least twice as strong as before.”

  Nothing happened when he tugged on his bond with the seed, but it did allow him to notice something. “It’s different.”

  Eia flew in, inspecting the invisible flames. “Is it?”

  “It’s not a contract—it’s a proper bond, like the one you and I have. I’m not sure I could break it even if I wanted to.” Mana trickled into his eyes as he inspected the seed closer. Though he’d missed it before, now that he was looking, the seed held a small drop of life mana, speckled gold within green, the same as that which flowed through Haoma’s roots.

  “Or maybe… this is the hint.”

  “What?”

  Without responding, Wyn grasped the wheel once more. It was made specifically for him, for his blessing.

  Spirit fire is the power of bonds.

  He willed the flames into the wheel, seeking a bond, as though it were a living thing of its own. As they reached the surface, something seemed to grab on, pulling more spirit fire out of him.

  “Wyn? What’s—”

  The wheel leapt out of his grasp and into the air, hovering as it spun faster and faster, drawing more fire from his chest. In its center, the gemstone lit up, and the frame blazed lavender around its edges. As it did, Wyn watched his bond with the seed jerk upwards, getting pulled in as well. Abruptly, the rotation slowed, drawing to a stop. The gemstone in the center pulsed green, and then grew clear once more. Then, the whole wheel dissolved, breaking apart into countless shards of golden light, which drifted apart before disappearing entirely.

  Eia shouted in alarm, but Wyn sent a pulse of reassurance through their bond.

  “Wait, I can still feel it.”

  It was strange, as his bond with the wheel seemed to fold in on itself within the embers in his chest. He couldn’t see or feel the other side, but it was there, waiting. Whatever it was, it had affected his bond with the seed too, which vanished into that space and came back out, like thread through the eye of a needle. Hesitantly, Wyn pulled on that thread, trying to draw from it.

  His soul twisted, and a chill ran through his whole body.

  The air behind him suddenly lit, and he turned to see the wheel once more manifest behind his head, the gemstone bleeding from clear to green. Slowly, the wheel turned once, and a heavy clanking sound struck the air, stirring Tine in her sleep.

  Wyn didn’t notice though, too focused on the metamorphosis occurring within. Like a drop of paint into water, gold-specked green appeared in his channels, staining the pure aura running through them. It began to suffuse further as it circulated through, deeper and deeper with each passing moment, and as it did, the aching from his countless wounds grew lighter. Soon, no remnants of his original aspect remained. Behind him, the wheel dissolved once more, and Wyn was left sitting in the dark, his eyes wide.

  His aura had transmuted, from pure, to life.

  “Oh.”

  ***

  Wyn burnt spirit fire through the night, experimenting with the wheel almost obsessively, watching it change his aura over and over. When the sun finally peered over the horizon, and Tine woke up, he was able to convince her to leave the stairwell, and he led her away from the House of Spring, covering her eyes until they’d made it out of sight, then walked hand in hand all the way to the estate.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t much explanation needed when he arrived, as Eia had gone off to explain things to Corrin on her own. After finding a healer they could trust, they stood outside the infirmary while she checked on Tine.

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  Inevitably, they ended up discussing the wheel.

  “I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Luscien said, watching closely as Wyn’s aura slowly bled from white to green. “But the result speaks for itself. That’s life aura alright. And you can change it back?”

  “When I stop pulling, it snaps back on its own.” Wyn released the bond, and in an instant, his pure aura was back.

  The floorboards creaked as Corrin shifted on his wooden crutches, awkwardly avoiding a servant passing through the hallway, and settling against the door to the infirmary. All three of them watched in silence, heads following, until the servant turned the corner out of earshot.

  “It takes longer to go from pure to life,” Wyn continued immediately. “A couple minutes if I’m focused.”

  Corrin leaned against the door. “Can’t you just go halfway?”

  “If I try to manipulate my aura before it fully transmutes, it just snaps back to pure.” Wyn shook his head.

  An entire night spent exploring his new ability had revealed a lot about his aura, and the wheel. If he pulled on his bond with the wheel directly, he could manifest it without transmuting, and he could move it around his body if he focused, so long as it remained within a few feet.

  “Spirit fire is something else,” Luscien muttered into his hand. “Aura bonds are range-limited, and artificial bonds aren’t as efficient… damn it really is a perfect medium.”

  “You’re speaking gibberish,” Corrin said.

  Luscien sighed. “Sorry, it’s kind of like discovering a new metal stronger than steel and lighter than feathers. With bonds, there’s always a tradeoff between efficiency and range, but spirit fire doesn’t have that restriction at all, especially if it’s efficient enough to pull an aspect—it must be close to a hundred percent! I can think of noble families who would kill for something like that.” He paused when he saw their faces, and held up a hand. “Not literally—well…”

  Wyn grew a bit worried.

  “It’s probably fine,” Luscien shook his head. “Blessings that don’t use mana are basically opaque to analysis, at least from my understanding. Still, probably best to be vague about the details.”

  Another servant walked by, a young woman carrying sheets under her arms. Wyn smiled politely as Corrin glanced upwards, studying the ceiling. Luscien tapped a finger on his arm. Her footsteps receded down the hallway.

  “Noted. Any other insights about the wheel?”

  “Your guesses are as good as mine. If I had to wager though, I’d say you can probably get more aspects the same way. At least eight.”

  “Ah, one for each spoke?”

  Luscien nodded. “Artificers love symbolism like that. They all consider themselves artists.” The distaste in his voice made it seem like he was talking about someone in particular, and so Wyn wasn’t sure how unbiased that really was.

  “Is having multiple aspects really that useful though?” Corrin frowned.

  “It’s incredibly useful!” Luscien paced back and forth across the hallway. “With eight—no, nine aspects, you’d have endless options. Offense, defense, support, it doesn’t matter. And if you knew your opponent's aspect ahead of time, you could choose the perfect aspect to counter it. Then there’s the diversity of techniques…”

  Wyn grabbed the wheel out of the air. “Doesn’t fix my main problem though. I’m still limited by my aura capacity. I would have preferred some sort of, I don’t know, excess mana storage?”

  “One-of-a-kind relic and you’re still complaining.” Luscien sighed again.

  “I just… need to be as strong as I can.”

  They all fell silent for a long time after that.

  Thankfully, the uncomfortable silence was broken as the door to the infirmary swung open. Corrin got smacked to the ground, yelping, as he just barely managed to catch himself before completely face-planting. As it opened further, he scooted aside, hissing through his teeth and holding his leg.

  Wyn ignored him.

  Tine stepped out from inside the infirmary, alongside the healer who’d been checking her over. Her sullen expression hadn’t changed since she’d woken up, dull lifeless eyes staring at the floor.

  “As far as I can tell, she’s perfectly healthy. But that’s—” The healer paused, glancing at Tine before pulling Wyn aside. When she spoke again, it was in a hushed whisper. “As far as I can tell, she’s fine. But to tell you the truth, it’s impossible to say for certain. The position and size of her internal organs have all been altered to accommodate the core in her chest, and there’s no telling what kind of effects that will have long term. Her biology is still recognizably human, but… it’s no longer the same as yours or mine.”

  “I understand,” Wyn nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Thank you for the help. And remember, you’re not to speak of this to anyone at all.”

  “Of course. I won’t say a word.”

  Wyn turned back towards Tine, kneeling down to get on her level. He smiled gently, placing a hand on her head. “Seems like you’re just fine. I’m glad.”

  “Mm-mm,” Tine shook her head, pointing to her chest. “It still hurts here.”

  No amount of life aura could fix that, no matter how he wished it could.

  “I know,” was all he said instead.

  Corrin bent down before Wyn could find the right words, smiling gently. “Hey, it’s Tine, right? My name is Corrin, I’m Wyn’s friend. Are you hungry? Would you help me make breakfast for everybody? I could use your help right about now, if you don’t mind.”

  Tine looked back at Wyn uncertainly.

  “I’ll be right there, okay?”

  After a moment, she nodded, and followed Corrin down the hall towards the kitchen. Just before they turned the corner, Corrin glanced back, giving Wyn a look.

  I got it.

  Thanks.

  Wyn was grateful that Corrin could be so perceptive at times—it was probably a good idea to give her something to do. She needed routine and people right now, he knew that well. Simmering in the grief alone wouldn’t do any good at all.

  “Well? What are you going to do?” Luscien asked once the two of them were alone. “I can keep quiet about her too, at least for now.”

  “I’m not sure,” Wyn admitted. “I can’t exactly leave her alone now, it just wouldn’t be right—or safe. I might be able to trust her to Eldress Shani, but the cult knows about Iskareth’s experiments here. Even if just by coincidence, the odds of her getting discovered are high.”

  “And she’s not exactly conspicuous.” Luscien said dryly.

  Wyn sighed. “No.”

  Luscien glanced down the hall, then turned and began walking towards the front door, gesturing for Wyn to follow. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Outside.”

  They stepped out onto the porch and down the stone steps into the sun. The air smelled faintly of flowers as they passed the trampled beds where they lie crushed. A few adventurers and civilians mulled around the estate, and a few tents were pitched on the lawn since there weren’t enough rooms in the manor.

  As they reached the remnants of the outer wall, Wyn spotted a familiar small shape atop the stone, warm in the sun. Though he was sleeping, Kita’s ears perked up at their approach, and he rose, stretched languidly, and then hopped down onto Luscien’s shoulder.

  “There you are,” Luscien murmured, scratching behind his ears.

  Wyn leaned against the broken wall beside him. “So, what do you think? About Tine?”

  “It’s difficult,” Luscien admitted, combing his fingers idly through Kita’s fur. “I’m sure you’ve thought of the obvious? Moving her to Taravast is an option. The connection would be harder for the cult to make across the continent.”

  Wyn nodded. “I’d considered it, yeah. I don’t want to abandon her, not after everything that happened.”

  “In that case, allow me to take back what I said earlier. I believe transparency may be our best defense. Headmaster Reinhardt has a wide reach in the capital, and if she is under the academy’s umbrella, I imagine she’d be quite safe.”

  “You think she’d be safer than Corrin?”

  “I believe so,” Luscien finally said, scratching Kita’s ears. “Unlike Corrin, who is certainly part of some scheme, she’s a simple victim of circumstance. In fact, keeping her safe is beneficial to our own cause, if the cult will be using more of these ‘asura’. We can see how she develops under the effects of apotheosis.”

  “Still, we should be careful.”

  “Of course, we will be.” Luscien patted Wyn on the shoulder and made back for the manor. “Come on then, the matter is settled. Let’s head back in.”

  “Why’d we come out here in the first place?”

  “I just wanted to pick up Kita,” Luscien said simply.

  They climbed the porch steps and stepped back inside.

  “Oh, and Wyn? Let me just say, if the headmaster disagrees, and it comes down to it, I’ll side with you on the matter.”

  Wyn’s eyes widened slightly. “You would? I wouldn’t expect you to get involved.”

  Luscien nodded once, gazing back through a hole blown into the outer wall. “My mind is made up. I think my master would have done the same.”

  “Thank you Luscien, truly.”

  “There’s no need. Regardless of whether my decisions are the right ones, I’ve decided to start making them. That’s how I’ll move forward from now on.” He stepped ahead, physically putting an end to the conversation as they walked through the halls.

  The kitchen was warm and bright, sunlight spilling through the open window above the counter, which let in the fresh summer air. Corrin sat atop a high stool, one crutch leaning against the wall as he directed Tine around the room.

  “Alright,” he was saying, pointing with a wooden spoon. “Now grab that bowl—no, the bigger one.”

  Tine moved mechanically, following his instructions without speaking as she retrieved the bowl and set it carefully on the counter.

  “Perfect.” Corrin smiled. “See? I knew I couldn’t do this without help.”

  The two of them weren’t alone either. Kei sat at the table with her chin propped on one hand, watching the scene with a faint smile. As Wyn and Luscien entered, she lifted a hand in greeting.

  Wyn took a seat at the table and rested his arms in front of him, watching quietly. The soft sounds of ordinary work—the clatter of bowls, the crack of eggs against ceramic—had a strange rhythm to them. Corrin kept talking, half joking and half instructing, trying to bring up the mood himself.

  After a few minutes, a small orange shape slipped off of Luscien’s shoulder and padded across the kitchen floor. Kita wandered through the room without urgency, sniffing curiously at the leg of the table before circling towards the counter, tail flicking lazily behind him.

  Corrin glanced down. “The head chef has arrived.”

  Kita ignored him, continuing along the floor until he reached Tine, who had just finished fetching a pan from a cabinet. The fox brushed lightly against her leg.

  She froze.

  For a moment, it seemed she didn’t know what to do with the small creature at her feet. The two of them just stared at each other. Then Kita nudged her again, more insistently this time. Slowly, she crouched down, and her hand hovered for just a moment, before settling into the thick fur behind his ears. Immediately, Kita leaned into the touch with a pleased little rumble.

  Tine ran her fingers through his coat in slow, gentle motions, and though she didn’t smile, Wyn thought the tension in her shoulders eased just slightly.

  Corrin watched from his stool, stirring something in the bowl with a faint smile. “See? He’s clearly here to help.”

  Across the room, Luscien had taken a seat near the wall. When Wyn glanced his way, he noticed, and gave a small shrug.

  Not bad.

  ***

  The next morning, they followed Luscien down the hill to the eastern edge of the city, where the polished stone path mixed with dirt, and the rooftops of the buildings transitioned from tile to thatch, woven from water reeds gathered from the river. Plants grew wild in the grass at the edges of the road, hedged occasionally by small walls made from mossy, stacked stones.

  “This sucks,” Corrin grunted as he hobbled along the uneven ground, trying not to topple over on his crutches. He glared enviously at Luscien. “Our modes of transportation aren’t even close to equal.”

  Next to Luscien walked a massive bird with brown feathers, and a long neck held high even as it was guided by the lead in Luscien’s hand. Its body radiated a growing heat, like an oven warming up before you put in the bread. “If it brings you solace, I detest traveling by karuda. Metalway is far more relaxed.”

  “You would prefer the more boring option.” Corrin muttered, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it.

  When they reached the city limits, Luscien drew to a halt.

  “I’ll be seeing you both soon enough. It’s only about two months now by foot, and you’ll have a whole month to spare before the entrance exam. Make sure to get stronger by then.”

  Wyn nodded. “We will. And the same goes for you.”

  “Of course.”

  Corrin held out hand. “Cool cape by the way.”

  “You think so?” Luscien’s face reddened as he held up the bright red half-cape hanging from his left shoulder, standing out against his white and gold uniform. “I was worried it was a bit much.”

  “It totally is.” Corrin smiled. “But that’s why it works.”

  With an awkward chuckle, Luscien clasped Corrin’s arm. “May your travels be safe and swift.”

  “May the spirits guide your way.”

  Some sort of silent understanding seemed to pass through the two of them, though Wyn wasn’t privy to what it was. After they broke apart, Luscien clasped Wyn’s waiting hand.

  “Good luck Wyn. I’m counting on you.”

  “Likewise.” Wyn nodded. “We’ll see you in Taravast.”

  With that, Luscien hopped up onto the karuda, settling astride its saddle. He took a deep breath, and then was off.

  ***

  Luscien took the bird at a light trot as he left, instead of simply racing away. He thought he could understand a little more now why Eryndor had always insisted on it. So he kept his back straight, and his eyes forward, following the road as it curved gently into the hills.

  It’s harder than I thought it would be, master.

  He’d needed to leave. It was important he relayed things to the headmaster as soon as possible, and besides that he’d been on a schedule to begin with—he could only miss so much class. Returning to class… What would that even be like? After everything, could he really just go back to studying in the library with Maliah? He didn’t know.

  But he needed to leave.

  I’m sorry.

  As they passed out of sight beyond one of the huge hills, Luscien spurred his karuda up to speed. Soon they were blistering across the ground at speeds few other land animals could match. The wind whipped against his face, and drowned out all other sounds in his ears.

  I just couldn’t… His posture collapsed, and he slumped against the bird’s neck, the strength draining out of him. I swear… This is the last time I’ll ever run away.

  Far out of earshot, Luscien finally let out a keening cry, howling at the top of his lungs, venting all his frustration, anger, and fear. He didn’t have to hold it in anymore. No one could see or hear him now, and the wind carried away his tears.