Karanos moves swiftly through the halls at Ash’s behest, undoing all of Karanos’ efforts to spite Kuin by walking slowly. Maria and I laugh at his expense over our bond.

Krath and Mordika follow immediately behind Karanos. They’ve recovered their confident composure, no longer so intimidated by Ash’s presence, but they avert their eyes whenever Ash looks at them. I’m not even sure if they realize that they’re doing it.

Ash trails languidly behind the three; he doesn’t appear to be giving his surroundings much attention. I’m not sure what to make of him. Despite learning that he’s an ancient ascendant–and possibly the strongest person I’ve ever met–I find myself intrigued, rather than afraid. What is there to be fearful of–that Ash will kidnap me with his overwhelming strength and torture me for thousands of years?

It sounds ludicrous. But as we walk, uncertainty grows in my gut–perhaps I shouldn’t be writing off the reactions of Karanos, Krath, and Mordika.

Crystal, is there something I’m missing here? If Ash is a part of the faction, it seems unlikely that he will act against his fellow members. So why do they act with such deference?

The fish considers my question. “Their thoughts are guarded, preventing me from understanding the situation fully, but there is history between all of them, the kind that is so indelible as to become instinct.”

“This next door on the right is a hall of reflection,” Karanos remarks. Like the other hall of reflection in the welcome hangar, the door is blue. “Change into your finest and we’ll be on our way.”

As we stand before the mirror wall in a line, new outfits appear on our reflected selves. Maria and I decide to wait a moment for the others to pick their outfits.

A set of black trousers and a long blue vest appears on Karanos, leaving his chiseled torso bare. The vest is incredibly ornate, its golden accents glinting in cloud patterns. A navy cloak manifests over his bare shoulders, draping down to his shins. Both sides of the cloak fasten to a thin, black gorget that sits on his collar bones, its surface curved and filigreed, made of coils of metal like vines or serpents. Upon his head lies a small diadem with a shimmering yellow star at its center. A flash of light comes over him and the clothing manifests on his person. As he turns, the cloak glistens nethereal violet, its surface shadowless and depthless like an optical illusion. Karanos’ eyes flash and the star icon on the diadem illuminates with the colors of sunset.

Mordika finishes her outfit next, selecting a form-fitting black dress with a plunge neckline and a cut out above her stomach. Thin, articulated metal gauntlets and greaves cover her hands and feet, each digit tipped into wicked black talons, with a thin chain bracelet inset with ruby-colored soul gems on her left wrist. On her head rests a large ornamental hairpiece, the kind of crown I’d expect an emperor to wear. It looks heavy, but she wears it effortlessly, her hair tucked into the diadem in a glossy updo. Mordika’s eyes glow and at the center of the elaborate crown, just above her eyebrows, appears an orb of motionless darkness.

Krath Mandur dons crested silver pauldrons over an untied silver and emerald robe, its wide sleeves draping down to his knees, obscuring his hands. Like Karanos, his chest is bare, revealing old scar tissue–four vicious claw marks–that stretch from his armpit to the waistline of dark emerald pants tucked into supple black leather boots. And like his ascendant companions, he wears a diadem upon his head–the carved skull of a dragon, one set of horns curling around his ears and jaw, with the other extending out over the back of his skull. When his eyes flash green with the energy of his practice, a soul gem materializes in one of the dragon’s eyes and glints a shade of green so dark it could be confused for black.

Holy shit, I transmit to Maria. I have nothing to wear. How am I supposed to compare to all that?

You’ll figure it out, she says, transforming into her red coronation dress. Her cape of a thousand pink blossoms fastens to her white pauldrons and silvery vambraces cover her hands, but leave her fingers bare. She elects to leave the breastplate–the centerpiece of the dress–in her storage, revealing a plunge neckline just as scandalous as that worn by Mordika. Maria lowers Cayeun’s circlet so that it rests upon her hair rather than hovering above her head, its azure color stunning against her auburn locks. With a smile that takes my breath away, her eyes glow and the circlet catches fire, controlled yellow flames flickering along its length, with a single ball of blue fire manifest just above the circlet’s front.

She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“I just transmitted that to her,” Crystal says. “You are welcome.”

I immediately blush, mortified. Crystal!

But the slight reddening of Maria’s cheeks steals my attention, dissipating my ire. I step forward and grab her arm, pulling her to me, the flower blooms of her cape soft beneath my fingers.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Ash says, suddenly at my side, a subdued smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Krath. “The diadem upon her brow renders her vitality exquisite. Can you sense the way it moves through her body? She is half alive–it is more than an illusion.”

Krath swallows. “And the ascendant energy, in her soul–”

“You can see her soul within her body?” I interject, unable to help myself, my eyes wide with wonder.

Krath and Ash both turn to me with knowing glances. Before I can ask them to teach me, Karanos clears his throat. “Ian, you need to get dressed.” He makes no mention of Ash, who is still wearing his garish yellow collar and leather girdle.

I literally have nothing to wear. Tell Karanos this is his fault for not telling me what to prepare beforehand, I protest.

Crystal gives me a mental eye roll. “The issue here is your lack of creativity, Ian. You have plenty of materials to work with.”

Y’jeni, like I trust my fashion sense enough.

“Ian, this is a pageant,” Crystal reminds me. “There is no dress code, no standard. Dress to impress.”

Ash gives me the slightest nod of his head. With his Beginning affinity, he probably guesses exactly what I’m thinking, perceives all my doubts.

Sighing, I get started with my wardrobe transformation. In the mirror, I’m already wearing Cayeun’s formal slacks and the suit armor. I keep the slacks but do away with the jacket and undershirt, leaving my entire upper torso bare.

I almost blush again when Maria smirks at the view.

From the void storage on my waist–similar in appearance to the one Krath wears–I draw shattered bones. As fragments, they’re rough and ugly, but I use my practice to transform them into a seamless mosaic, the shards covering my arms like tiger stripes, thickening at my shoulders to form whorling spines of bone that weave around my neck like choking talons. They extend up behind my ear to form two long horns like those of an antelope over my skull. I extend the bones on my arms over the back of my hands in a thin layer, taking care that they won’t be uncomfortable for Maria to hold. Finally, I summon a Death energy vest and cloak, mirroring Karanos’ style. My Death energy whorls continuously, like the ocean on a moonless night: cold and unrelenting.

My eyes flash violet as I summon an ember of violet light to hover above my head.

Maria presses a hand against my chest and leans in; I kiss her on the top of her head.

When I look back up, Ash has already transformed his attire–if you can call it that. At first glance, using mundane eyesight, it looks like he’s wearing black, chitinous plate armor on his sides and over his legs, tracing the V of his hips. Of course it also leaves his torso bare. But he has more reason to than anyone else, his skin a canvas of shifting monochrome tattoos.

But look a tiny bit closer and that illusion of armor dies. Ash is wearing live scorpions. As I inspect the scorpions’ vitality, I realize that they’re connected together as one large organism. Like the people in Vracoola’s Domain, the mega-scorpion feels synthetic in a way that’s difficult to describe.

Scorpion claws adorn his shoulders like spikes, while a chain of scorpion stingers circles his neck like asymmetric layered necklaces. His yellow eyes dance with mirth as four normal-looking scorpions perch on his head, arranged claws-to-stinger in a circle. As his eyes flash with rainbow light, the black scorpions illuminate in four different colors, their eyes smoldering as though alight with fire. One for each affinity.

Karanos nods. “Alright, time to make our entrance. Light it up.” Fire erupts around his gorget and down his cloak. Darkness wreathes Mordika’s back as spectral raven wings unfurl. Black Death energy melds with Krath’s dark hair down his back, forming a Death energy cape not unlike my own.

Maria holds her hands out to the side and draws two arrows down her arms with her flames, tattooing end arrows onto herself. But she doesn’t stop there–two new arrows manifest on my arms, mingling with my decorative bones.

Smiling, I paint her silvery vambraces black with Death energy, the inky tendrils accentuating the red of her flames. A compulsion comes over me to work with the vitality in the flowers on her cape. A skilled Life practitioner transformed the blooms into living garment, but their preservation is imperfect, leaving them tinged gray. I pull at that imperfection, unraveling it...and the flowers come alive, blooming deeper, their spring-green vines thickening.

Ash is last to “light it up.” Compared to all of our displays, what he does is both humbling and...

Uh...

Very Ash.

A flower crawls its way out of his pants, somehow pushing suggestively against the scorpions covering his crotch. Ash smiles knowingly as Maria and I squeeze one another’s hand, pressing our lips together to conceal laughter.

The flower grows rapidly in size as it circles around his torso, its stem branching off into smaller offshoots that spiral and tendril over his body, weaving around the scorpion chitin.

He’s making an array, Maria realizes.

It takes less than a second for the flower to come to its full size, along with all of its offshoot blooms–little yellow buttercup blossoms.

When the array activates, the scorpions all turn bright pink, and the large flower–extending over Ash’s right shoulder like an oversized pauldron–opens up. Its unfurled petals ignite with fire on the edges.

A second later, the vines pulse–indicating that the array has activated again–and the scorpions all turn neon yellow while the fiery flower petals turn to stone.

I guess this is one way to showcase Sun and End affinity, as well as fire and earth elementalism.

To their credit, Karanos, Mordika, and Krath seem outwardly unfazed by Ash’s exceptional attire. The ancient ascendant snickers and walks over, then bumps lightly into Mordika and Krath’s shoulders.

“We really will be late at this rate,” Ash chortles. “This time, I’ll lead the way.”

—

Ash opens the tall doors leading into the grand banquet hall with an effortless shove, the doors flying on their hinges to impact the wall with a loud thump.

He stalks inside and the room falls silent–likely for different reasons, depending on whether they recognize him as an ancient or simply view him as the most bizarrely-dressed attendee.

My face is lit up by a smile as we follow him inside. Following Ash is fun. It’s fucking hilarious to see everyone’s impressions of him. As a Beginning practitioner, he must be acutely aware of the effect he has on people. He wields that affinity like a weapon by making his outward presentation so garish.

But more than that...

“It is as you suspect,” Crystal observes. “He dresses like this because it makes him more approachable. How scary can the ancient ascendant really be if he goes around wearing oversized yellow slippers–as he was when I met him–or pink and yellow scorpions?”

I smirk. Pretty damn scary, probably. I think Mother would faint at the scorpions. As for Germaine, she’d probably give Ash new ideas, unabashedly speaking her mind.

My heart aches. Y’jeni, how I miss her. Not just calling her with Suncloud’s artifact, but truly holding her, being with her.

How she’d love this place, this broken land of endless possibilities.

Ash finds a random table and sits down, completely disregarding the seating chart projected at the front of the room. Karanos’ eyes gleam with realization: We might not be late, but there are other ways to mess with Kuin’s dinner.

I lock eyes with the only other ascendants seated at the table–Ketu Bryant attired in ornate ice robes, and the ascendant I assume to be his sponsor–a petite woman with black eyes and skin the color of night, her lips painted crimson, matching the startling red of her dress. Ice accents her gown like decorative crystal and forms a sparkling necklace and crown.

Like Ketu, she’s also a Moon practitioner, though I sense another affinity–Remorse.

“Keep your mental defenses up,” Crystal coaches, likely sensing my reticence to join the table because of the woman. “You just need to be closed off enough that she will not skim your surface thoughts.”

Right. Easy enough, theoretically.

“It is just as we practiced. I have faith in you–besides, are you really going to let yourself be outdone by Maria in yet another category?”

Another category?

“Your appearance cannot hold a candle to hers.”

That I can agree with.

Ketu’s eyes widen at Ash’s attire, but his sponsor reacts politely to our intrusion. “Welcome, Ancient Ash.” Ketu stiffens. “It is an honor to sit with you.”

Somehow I end up sitting to the right of Ash, with Maria next to me. Two seats to Maria’s right is Ketu Bryant.

Karanos leans forward and inclines his head toward the Moon and Remorse practitioner. “I didn’t expect to sit with you tonight, Sephir. It has been too long.”

She gives him a polite smile, her teeth stark against red lips. “Yes, it is most unexpected. But now I have the opportunity to hear more about your new protege.”

I find it a bit odd that she’s ignoring Ash–I’d expect her to start chatting him up since he’s the most powerful person here.

“That would be a mistake,” Crystal remarks. “Like me, she can peek behind Ash’s mask, just a bit. It is enough to understand that while he dresses and acts like he seeks all the attention in the world, he likes to observe and listen.”

It’s almost like a test then, I reply. A test to see how well people can read and understand him.

Krath rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. “I have my own rather obvious reasons to be interested in Ascendant Dunai, but what sparks your interest, Sephir?”

Sephir’s ice jewelry and crown flicker from within, blue ascendant energy illuminating them. “He’s the greenest ascendant here, yet he defeated my protege. You’ve found a strong one.”

The conversation takes a turn toward Mordika’s dress before spiraling into a discussion about all-inclusive resort planes. I feel like a child at the grown-ups table. Ketu looks just as out of place next as I feel, his arms folded across his chest while Sephir chats up the other old ascendants.

“Old?” an unfamiliar voice says in my head. I jolt in place and slam my mental defenses into place.

Sephir raises an eyebrow and sends a wry smile my way.

“So,” Ketu says, his voice soft. I realize it’s the first time I’ve heard him speak. I expected his voice to be deeper. “Have you guys looked at the menu?”

“No, not yet,” Maria says, her voice filled with polite warmth. “Where is it?”

Ketu shakes his head. “Exactly what I’m wondering. I’m starving.”

For the first time since sitting down, Ash jumps into the conversation. “I heard that the menu needed to be reworked. Last minute catering emergency.”

For some reason, he winks at me.