“Jerome, how are you so tall!” Ash asked, still clinging to him. “And your eyes! How did you get such beautiful eyes!?”

  “I knew those eyes weren’t real,” Illan muttered beside him as they walked through the new hallway.

  He held her closely to his other side like one would a child and she wrapped her toned legs around his waist. He examined her with his perception. Ash was very healthy. She had grown a lot too. He appreciated the mahogany brown apprentice robes she wore. It accentuated her figure quite nicely. What he didn’t appreciate was Illan Ullysius staring at her voluptuous bust.

  He turned away when he noticed Jerome glaring at him. Ash didn’t seem to notice though. As a matter of fact, it seemed she didn’t notice how beautiful she was. Her black hair was braided into a single long braid that fell down her back to her hips, where she had all sorts of blades strapped to her person. He could also sense a blade attached to the tip of her braid but hidden by a ribbon. That was good.

  “Turn left,” she said. He did and they walked into another hallway. Three doors down, they stepped into another chamber.

  “Why am I not surprised,” Jerome said, looking at Nyx who was sitting comfortably on a sofa, away from everyone.

  “Oh, you know her,” Ash said, looking between them both. “You both know each other?”

  Jerome gently set her on the floor and she went and sat beside Nyx, who hugged her affectionately.

  “Am I missing something?” He glanced at the rest of his teammates in the room, who were just as perplexed as him. Nyx had never acted affectionately toward anyone before.

  “We both know each other, princess,” Nyx said endearingly. “We met in Terra Praeta where I almost ate him. It was my mercy that kept him alive.”

  Ash reared back to look at her in unbelief. Jerome felt entertained, if anything, and wanted to see an argument break out.

  “You can’t eat Jerome. As a matter of fact, you can’t eat people. That’s barbaric,” Ash said. “And Jerome is very powerful.”

  “Is he now,” Nyx said with a smile. Then she turned to Illan who was standing next to him. “And who might you be?”

  Illan stood up straighter. Nyx had a noble and intimidating bearing that anyone she leveled her gaze on would nearly shit their pants.

  “My name is Illan Ullysius, Esteemed Lady; son of Lord Ismethil Ullysius and captain of the guard of the Noble District.”

  “Get out,” Nyx said and he bolted out of the room.

  “That was rude,” Jerome said, looking around the room. Ms. Tara, Csala, and Sheela sat together, looking well-rested. They had bathed and he couldn’t smell the gun oil they used to lubricate their weapons on them anymore. “Where’s Old wen?”

  Everyone kept quiet all of a sudden and turned to face away from him. Even Nyx didn’t have the confidence she had just a moment ago.

  “Where’s Rihal?” he asked before scanning the floor more carefully.

  A few hallways to his right, some people, including Rihal, were clustered into a room with Old Wen lying on his back on a bed. Jerome could tell it was him because of his skeletal structure. But he had lost a lot of muscle and was skinny as hell.

  He walked out of the room and everyone followed. He barged into Old Wen’s room a moment later and walked up to the bed. Old Wen was worse than his scan had shown. He was hemorrhaging internally and had fluid build up in his brain. Coupled with his poor health which must have stemmed from malnourishment and age, since he hadn’t advanced to the Spirit Realm. He was dying, and quickly.

  “Leave us,” he commanded, and everyone but his teammates, Ash, Rihal, and another lady remained.

  “Jerome,” Rihal planted his hand on his shoulder as he knelt beside the bed. “They were doing everything they could to keep him alive until you got here.”

  “You should heal him quickly,” Achilleia said. “He doesn’t have much time left.”

  I intend to. What happened to him?

  He began stirring the vital aura in the earth and soon the whole room was filled with green and gold motes of light.

  “Nobody cycles,” Rihal instructed.

  “He was hit in the head by a Judge,” Achilleia said. “Some of those who brought him here are still alive on account of Vorthe’s orders. The Sovereign knew you’d want to take revenge yourself.”

  Jerome willed the vital aura into Old Wen and watched as his body sucked up the vitality, repairing itself almost immediately. He joined the effort, channeling vital aura to Old Wen’s skull, and got rid of the fluids in his brain.

  “He’s really good at this,” he heard the lady with Rihal say.

  After a long while, Old Wen took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, falling into a deep sleep. Jerome placed his palm on the floor and with his ring, projected a formation around the room to help draw essence and vital aura from the ground.

  “That’s a Convergence Formation. Where did you learn to do that, Jerome?” Rihal asked. “And so fast!”

  Jerome didn’t answer, concentrating on his work. When he was done he breathed a sigh of relief. “I learned it in Terra Praeta, Rihal. Why didn’t you tell me Old Wen was like this?”

  “Because you’d rush over here and try to save him, ignoring the consequences of leaving the battle you were fighting,” Ash answered. “Will he be alright?”

  Jerome sighed. “Yes. Yes, he will. I need to know who did this to him.”

  “He came here with a convoy from Alva,” the lady with Rihal said. “I’m Crystal, Rihal’s partner.”

  Jerome nodded at her. “Pleasure to meet you, Crystal. So, this convoy…”

  “They are camped outside Alvion,” Sheela said from a window. “Waiting for reinforcements, probably.”

  “How many Judges?” he asked.

  “Two,” Sheela said, using the scope of her rifle to look into the distance. “There used to be four but Senior Rihal’s father took care of one. And Achilleia took care of the other.”

  “Achilleia?” he asked, surprised.

  “You didn’t think I could take out a common Judge?” Achilleia asked threateningly.

  Not at all, Achilleia. I just wasn’t expecting it. And you never told me about it either.

  Jerome stood up from his kneeling position to go but a hand held him back. Everyone in the room gasped at the sight of Old Wen. it was like his body had filled up in the little time they had been discussing. He looked healthier and much younger than he did moments ago.

  “Leave the fat pig for me,” he whispered in a hoarse voice before falling back asleep.

  “I think he meant the overseer of their troops,” Sheela said. “He’s Drudge. A dirty, fat drunk who just sits around all day with a whip in his hand and a scowl on his face.”

  “Very well. And how many Messengers do they have?”

  “Plenty,” Crystal said.

  “We’ve dealt with plenty before,” Ms. Tara said. He could see the anger simmering in her eyes. Righteous anger. “This will be no different.”

  “Old Wen should be up in a few days,” Jerome said. “I would like to honor his wishes, so we wait. In the meantime, Sheela, watch them.”

  She nodded at him. He looked at Rihal to hear his opinions but his master only smiled at him.

  “We have orders to leave them to you and your team.”

  Jerome nodded. He took Ash into his arms and hugged her tightly, teleporting them to the lounge they were sitting in when he first met them. They probably called it a parlor.

  “How have you been, Ash? I’ve missed you.”

  “Urgh, you too?” she complained.

  Jerome realized what he had done and transmitted essence into her nerves to calm her down. “Sorry. I’ve gotten so used to teleportation that it’s second nature to me now.”

  He sat her down on his lap, facing him, as he sat on a sofa by the side of the door.

  “It’s okay. At least it’s better than Uncle Rihal’s. That’s how I came to the Southern Region, just so you know…” She went on to tell him all that had been going on since he went to Terra Praeta.

  Jerome caressed her cheeks in his hands, looking into her dark beautiful eyes as she spoke. He wondered what it would be like to give her a computation ring. Since she was Blank, it would help her advance faster by making her core denser and even cleaning out her channels. But she’d still be unable to do most of the things Sprouts could do, like fly or extend perception.

  What do you think, Achilleia?

  “She’s close to becoming Sprout. There’s something different about her though. I can’t quite put a finger on it.”

  Well, I would probably not see it if you pointed it out so… “I have a gift for you, Ash,” he said, interrupting her. “I hope you like it.”

  Ash smiled brightly at him. “I think I’d like any gift you gave me.”

  Was it him or had she grown even more beautiful since last he saw her. She was taller, curvier and had a bigger bust than before; bigger and fuller than normal, even. It was almost like looking at a female from Terra Praeta.

  Jerome had learned to tell the difference between females from Terra Praeta and human sacred artists by their proportions. Terra Praetan women were curvier with an otherworldly allure that was more intense than that of human sacred artists. Just like sacred artists were more beautiful and more sensual than mere mortal women.

  He brought out a computation ring and held out his hand for hers. Ash’s eyes grew at the glittering ring in his hand. He slid it onto the middle finger of her right hand and the ring shrunk to fit, glittering in the light coming from the windows.

  “You have to bond with it. With your blood.”

  “I know what a bond is, Jerome.” She drew a dagger from her belt and poked her finger with it.

  The bond went just the same as it did for the other ladies. Ash got lost in the mesmerizing movement of lights as the drop of blood completed a revolution around the ring, before being absorbed completely into it. She closed her eyes and Jerome felt essence pour into her core.

  Do you think she’d be able to fly?

  Achilleia snorted. “Everyone’s not like you, Xerae. You can fly without a skysail because flight is a gift granted to you by Mother Nature—”

  And Nyx?

  “She’s different — probably the equivalent of a Sage. And you heard her. Essence ‘wants’ to be wielded by her. After all, she’s a dragon. Sacred artists can only fly on their own when they get to the Sage Realm. Not even Pillars can fly on their own.”

  I never told you about that discussion with Nyx.

  Achilleia gave him a mental shrug. Ash’s cycling session continued and the rotation of her core increased in speed. He watched her clench her fist and turned on his x-ray vision. Her core was expanding and shrinking by less than a hair’s breadth, as though it was breathing. He had to watch very carefully so as not to miss anything. He wished he could teach her how to cycle but that would mean interrupting her.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “You can create something for her. Skysails use air-attribute essence to fly, you can make something using propulsion.”

  Not just for Ash. I plan on making it as part of my project for Vorthe’s sacred army.

  “Vorthe would welcome it — besides the artificer, but Alvric would most likely flip if you did that. They pride themselves on being the only ones on the continent capable of producing skysails that Sprouts can fly with.”

  That’s probably why the average Sprout can’t fly higher than a thousand feet. Wait, they’re the only ones capable of producing skysails that Sprouts can fly with?

  “Yes. Well, Vorthe might beat them at it… some day.”

  I’ll be the one to beat them at it. And I intend to break that limit of a thousand feet.

  “Wow!” Ash exclaimed atop him. “This is great! I feel very great! Like I’ve had a lot of pressure on me all my life! Oooh! My sight is sharper too!”

  Jerome smiled at her and she hugged him lovingly.

  “Thanks, Jerome. Was this how you were able to defeat the Judges?”

  “Partly. I’d like to make something that can help you defeat gravity.”

  “Gravity,” she said in thought. “You know, no one knows what that is. The only other word closely resembling it is—”

  “Gravisar,” Jerome said, nodding. “Let’s leave that for later. You said something over the comms unit that there were six children somewhere.”

  “In Alva, Jerome. You won’t be able to get inside that city without being caught.”

  Jerome sighed. There was nothing he could do to circumvent the power of the Transcendent Argonaut. He’d have to wait to gain more power. Maybe take up the darkness in the north. That way even if he was caught, he had more power at his disposal.

  “We wait then. I have to go up north for the darkness in the mountains.”

  Ash looked up from admiring her ring, worry coloring her beautiful features.

  “It’s calling to me, Ash. I keep shoving the urge aside and it’s easy… for now. But the sooner I go, the better it’ll be for all of us.”

  “Jerome, I…”

  “I’ll be alright. I’ve been through more dangerous stuff, Ash. This will pass too. And it’ll be like it never happened.”

  Rihal and the other’s came into the room and Nyx sat beside them.

  “Don’t worry, princess,” she said. “I’ll protect him. Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

  Ash climbed off him and onto Nyx’s lap, hugging her. Jerome was reminded that Ash was still a kid at that moment. But for some reason, he felt that the connection she had with Nyx was a lot deeper than he might realize. Maybe she wasn’t being childish and just felt safer with Nyx — which was weird, even coming from him. He shook off the thought.

  I know you wish to court her, Nyx said through their psychic link, or whatever rubbish you humans do. Just remember that she’s still a child and she loves you very deeply. She’s not as innocent as you might think but she’s also not as sly as she might think she is.

  Hmm, he replied, nodding in thought. I agree with you there. But I’m more surprised that you can act the part of a mother, Nyx.

  Don’t start.

  Jerome held his tongue wisely.

  “Jerome,” Rihal said, walking into the room. “You have visitors.”

  A beautiful middle-aged woman walked in, followed by Ivar Vorthe. Jerome couldn’t tell how old she was. She looked ageless, in a way that only sacred artists could look. Long black hair curled down her back, creating a contrast with her pale skin. This Sage didn’t get enough sunlight it seemed.

  She was dressed in the traditional robes of the noble in Farryn: white silk with many gold embellishments, jewelry made out of crystal stones and gems, with lots of sapphires among them — which were most likely defensive and or offensive artifacts, and a three-inch heeled slippers laced with glitters. The slippers were a new one — probably because of the heat of this region.

  Their presence filled the room in an instant but he felt nothing more than just that. If he was a normal Sprout, he would have felt pressured — especially from two Sages, even if he could resist it.

  Jerome stood up in deference, bowing deeply to the Sages with his right fist to his chest. “Light embrace you, seniors,” he greeted.

  “And may Light illuminate your path, young one,” she said, smiling. “Well, you certainly have grown like the rumors say. All three of you.” She looked around, smiling fondly at Sheela. “My name is Sheela Vorthe, Jerome. The First Matron of the Academia of Sanctum. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh.” He glanced at Sheela who nodded. “It’s an honor to meet you, Esteemed Matron.”

  “Sit,” she said.

  “Why wasn’t I called ‘Esteemed’?” Rihal’s father, Ivar Vorthe, muttered. Jerome ignored him.

  Everyone took a seat and Ivar cleared his throat. “As per our agreement, Jerome,” he began. “We rescued the old man as you wanted, now it’s time for you to fulfill your part of the agreement.”

  “You mean, you rescued him half dead—”

  “Jerome,” Rihal cautioned. “Don’t start.”

  Jerome gestured with his hand and a small wooden pot appeared midair. He floated it toward Ivar, gesturing with a slight bow from his seated position to show deference. The Sage plucked it out of the air and looked it over.

  “Why is it so small?” he asked.

  “Its spatial parameters have been enhanced,” Jerome said. The open mahogany brown pot looked very ordinary but he knew his work.

  “Why is it open?” the First Matron asked.

  “And what effect will a physical seal have against folded space?” Jerome replied. Rihal and his partner, Crystal, stiffened in their seats, giving him weary looks.

  Sheela took the pot from Ivar Vorthe and turned it upside down. Rihal moved to stop her but the water in the pot defied gravity, remaining inside.

  The First Matron smiled, uncaring that he answered her question with a question of his own. “I think you will make Fesir very envious.”

  “Who’s Fesir?” Ash asked and Crystal shushed her.

  “Fesir is the Royal Artificer, little one,” the Matron said. “He’s a grandmaster of the craft. And he won’t be pleased Jerome can make something so small have such a capacity on the inside.”

  “I’m sure he makes storage rings that have far larger internal dimensions than this,” Jerome said and Achilleia snorted in his head. He cached it away for a later discussion.

  Jerome observed that both Sages didn’t respond to his words, keeping their smiles intact. Fake smiles. Perhaps he had given too much credit to the grandmaster of artifact crafting.

  The Matron looked at Crystal, and then Sheela and Ms. Tara, and said, “As custom dictates, those of you hearing this for the first time have to swear an oath of secrecy.” Jerome and Rihal sighed together at that, drawing the attention of those whose names the matron called. “Are you ready?”

  Crystal looked at Rihal who gave her a barely perceptible nod. Sheela and Ms. Tara looked at Jerome and he nodded at them also. Ash looked at Nyx, and then Csala, and then the First Matron.

  Both of his companions who had come with them from Terra Praeta hadn’t bothered to show any deference to the Sages when they walked in. They had remained seated throughout the brief veneration. There was no point trying to get them to swear an oath; the Sages knew this. The dragon and the succubus only smiled at Ash and thankfully, she understood the point.

  “Swear on any aspect of nature that under no circumstance will you reveal the contents of what is discussed in this room to anyone or make records of it outside this room or anywhere else,” Rihal’s Father stated calmly.

  Jerome felt the air still around them for a moment. One of the First Matron’s rings glowed and the song of runes permeated the air.

  “That was an aural barrier, wasn’t it?” he asked, impressed.

  She smiled at him. “You have good ears, I see.”

  He was sure she was talking about his ability to hear the song of the runes. The First Matron seemed to be a student of runecrafting too — a pleasant surprise. Ivar Vorthe gestured at the Sprouts and the Pillar in the room and they all swore by the earth, the heavens, and oceans. A moment later they gasped, touching their chests as their heartbeats increased.

  “I never like doing that,” Crystal muttered. Jerome gave her an apologetic look to which she nodded.

  The First Matron cleared her throat and gave an abridged version of the Dark One’s origin. Sheela, Ms. Tara, Crystal, and Csala listened on with rapt attention, even Ash listened like she was hearing it for the first time. Madam Sheela told of the events of the Cataclysm and how the first Vorthe became a Transcendent, how the Darkness was split from the chaos and a vessel was chosen for it. How it destroyed every vessel until Vorthe learned how to properly choose a vessel.

  “But a child,” Crystal said, looking aghast. “That’s cruel.”

  “It was the only thing that worked, and even then it isn’t a perfect solution.”

  “So that means Jerome would…” Ms. Tara said, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

  “Nothing will happen to me, Ms. Tara,” he said. “None of the fated Dark Ones before me have the advantage I have. An advantage I dare say no one else has.”

  “Kilian and I found something, Jerome,” Rihal said. He produced an onyx stone. Quite a large one too.

  Jerome smiled at him and took the stone from him. “I’ve been told these are quite rare and expensive.”

  “Hmm. It can help release negative energies and emotions,” Rihal said. “It’s a good way to heal from trauma and mental affliction. Not that you might need it.”

  “I won’t actually,” he said. “But I’m keeping it. Thanks.”

  Rihal shrugged.

  “Tell us about this liquid, Jerome,” the First Matron, Sheela Vorthe, said.

  “There is a place in Terra Praeta,” Jerome began. “A void world where a mountain hovers in the air—”

  “A hovering mountain?” Ash whispered in awe.

  “Hmm. The records aren’t clear but it is said that Odin created the void world. He formed the mountain from the vastness of his powers as a place of meditation. There are nine waterfalls pouring out of the mountain, which are symbolic of his sacrifice from a time before time. And the air is so rich with essence of different kinds that one can literally see them dance around the floating mountain.

  “The story goes thus. Sitting on his throne, Hlidskjalf, on Asgard, he looked out across the whole world and realized how little he knew. This realization kindled a desire to increase the breadth of his knowledge and the depths of his wisdom — to know all. It was this desire that drove him to sacrifice himself.

  “He sacrificed one of his eyes to Mimir’s Wellspring in exchange for a drink. A wellspring, said to be located beneath one of the three roots of the world tree, Yggdrasil; and said to contain much wisdom.

  “He threw himself on his spear — a kind of symbolic, ritual sacrifice, hung himself on Yggdrasil, for nine days and nine nights in order to gain knowledge of other worlds, and the knowledge of runes.

  “The hovering mountain is symbolic of his sacrificial hanging; the nine waterfalls, symbolic of the nine days and nine nights he hung, and also the wellspring of Mimir. The waters are called the Waters of Irithiya. Irithiya was, as the records say, a fae, highly beloved by Odin. And you hold in your hands a portion of the water.”

  Do you think it wise to tell them this much about the void world? Nyx asked.

  There’s nothing they can do about it now, he responded. I alone hold the key to Terra Praeta. You heard the Transcendents.

  What if they found another way? Another voice said. The dragonkin. Jerome had almost forgotten about their connection. And even now it felt so natural. How was she communicating with him from this far away?

  It’s exhausting, she admitted, sensing his musings.

  The only other way is still thousands of years in the future, Jerome said. The Alignment — the natural Alignment. Actually a partial one; when the planets come closer to one another in their orbits around the sun. The concept of a solar system is alien to my people, but they know of the Alignment.

  Even as he spoke, a well of knowledge opened up in his mind. These were things that must have been uploaded into his mind from the memory stones but he hadn’t had time to sift through them all. To think that both this world and Terra Praeta were in the same solar system. He had never really thought about it. Two planets in the Goldilocks’ zone, in the same solar system. That was remarkable!

  But that must mean the goldilocks zone in this star system was different from what he knew — possibly larger. After all, this universe was one of magic. Who knew what would be possible.

  “An interesting tale,” the First Matron said after a while.

  Yes, Nyx said. I admit, you are good at telling tales.

  Jerome smiled and even the dragonkin tittered quietly, aware of Nyx’s arrogance and unwillingness to give in. He must have truly impressed her with this short tale of his.

  “So if our Sprouts drink this, they’d become more powerful?” the First Matron asked.

  “Hmm. First, their mental strength will improve, their area of perception will expand, and their cores will be strengthened. Lastly, their essence channels will be strengthened and widened, expelling impurities. The water in that pot can fill a very large pool.” Jerome stopped in thought.

  “You shouldn’t pour it out,” Sheela said. “Wait, now that I think of it, is that even possible?”

  Jerome had been debating whether to tell them this. If for nothing more than to see the look on Ivar Vorthe’s face when it loses its efficacy right in front of his eyes.

  “The water quickly loses its efficacy the moment it’s out of that wooden pot. It’s specially crafted to help preserve the strange energies of the water,” Sheela continued.

  She wanted to take back the pot but the Sage held it away from her, preventing her from testing whatever stupid ideas she might be thinking of. Rihal’s father gave him a look that said he caught what just happened, but he didn’t care.

  “How then do they drink of it, directly from the pot?” the First Matron asked. He could tell she found it uncouth.

  “That or they could just jump in,” Sheela said, smiling sheepishly. “I did.”

  Ms. Tara pinch her arm and Jerome raised an eyebrow at her. “You know that wouldn’t help you, right? It’s ineffective after your first try.”

  She shrugged playfully. “I wanted to know what it’d feel like to be inside the pot.”

  The First Matron sputtered. She glared at her god-daughter but Jerome could see the shadow of a smile on her face. Something told him they were very much alike than what he was seeing here.

  “I pamper you too much,” the Matron muttered. Sheela hid the smile of triumph on her face.

  “Just so you’re wondering, the pot has a filtration script active on the inside,” Jerome said. “So no one can easily contaminate the water.”

  “But how long before the water loses its efficacy?” Ivar Vorthe asked, still looking inside the pot. His irises had taken on a deep green color, much like Rihal’s.

  “A little over a season,” Jerome replied.

  “And when exactly does this begin?” The Sage leveled his gaze on him.

  Jerome held his gaze, searching his eyes for any underlying intent behind the question. “Ninety days. We’ve had it for about two tendays — four tendays, actually, taking the length of Terra Praeta’s days into consideration.”

  “So five tendays…” Sheela said.

  The First Matron cleared her throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “As per your agreement with the Sovereign.” She held out a storage ring to him. “Vorthe would like you to begin work immediately.”

  Jerome accepted the ring and scanned it. “Its spatial capacity is impressive,” he said. “I’ll need some space to begin.”