Maiz breathed in, and felt at his magic. What he’d decided to call “emotion mana” came first. Normally, he’d let it wrap in on itself, forming encasing sheets that spread out from his body, pushing down on every emotion and leaving him in a moving void. This time, he focused on a single strand of the power, still cold in his mind. He teased it out, feeling it emerge from his body in a viscous trickle. In this form it was rather delicate, and he was careful not to force it too quickly as he guided the strand of mana into a simple spiral encasing his body.

Once that part was complete, he switched his focus, concentrating on the sensation of detachment from his own body, like he was between dreaming and waking. It was… well, wonderful. This mana moved easily, perfectly, and made him feel in control like nothing else. He found holding the first strand far easier as he pulled the mental mana--that of a Controller--around himself in an opposing pattern. The two types pushed away at each other, but he found it simple enough to keep them in place. He followed up with light mana, which almost forced him to visualize shining power as he let it flow over his skin, much tighter than than the first two.

Then he repeated the process, taking emotion mana, then mental, then light. He patterned the first two around each other, painstakingly forming a woven cocoon that encased his entire body. The third, he let push out from his skin, slowly forming a thicker barrier between himself and the rest of the world. He kept going, weaving strand after strand and forming layer after layer of shell. The headache began about halfway through the process, and got progressively worse as the breadth of his control expanded. He didn’t have to control each individual strand of mana, but as he formed each one, anchoring the two structures to himself became increasingly difficult. Hopefully, that would cease to be an issue soon.

Finally, he made it. A web of Controller and Heartshaper mana thick enough to have been a woolen blanket touched a shell of light mana perhaps a quarter meter thick extending from his skin. Holding his breath, partly due to the pounding in his skull, Maiz began to let the light mana flow into the open spaces in the web as he pushed even more strands through the shell. The pattern wasn’t a pattern at all anymore--just a chaotic, confusing entanglement of mana. That was the point. When the web and the shell were fully integrated, he relaxed his focus, letting his mana flow but not trying to hold the entire structure together.

He could feel a sort of calm descend over him, as well as relief as the strain on his mind lessened. Everything seemed sharper--the world around him, but also his own thoughts and emotions. He smiled. Then the strands of Heartshaper mana in the web twisted, and the spell collapsed.

“Godsdammit! Ulion’s left--”

Maiz took a breath. There had been something there. He’d been sceptical of weaving strands of mana like that without a pattern, but combining it with the shell of light mana had been almost as effective as he’d hoped. Almost.

Maiz was beginning to wonder if he’d made a mistake with this choice to fulfill his Journeyman feat of creating an ability. But, truth be told, the few attempts at other abilities he’d made hadn’t gone well either. Absently he picked up his staff, lying on the floor of the purple chamber, and channeled Windblade through it. The repeating, shrinking pattern came a hair’s breadth from completion, and Maiz halted it. Then he tried to let fire mana run along the pattern, and tightened his body, focusing his stamina at his arms. With a shout, he slashed with his staff, letting the pattern complete itself and projecting the fire mana through the spell. At the same time, his hands blurred, and he performed a perfect pair of strikes at an impossible speed. He’d thought this might let him project slashes of fire in different directions through his staff. Though it might not be the most practical ability, he couldn’t deny the appeal.

His staff blasted out of his hands, spinning wildly and smoking. The smell of burning wood filled the little chamber, and Maiz grimaced, his headache seeming to get worse than ever. It was past time to go, but he was still disgruntled about his “hiding” spell. It’s the light mana. Not quite right for the anchor, even if it should help distort my image.

Maiz debated trying another ability--he’d thought about combining Storm Armor and Fast Feet, but that didn’t seem very likely to work. He still wanted to practice something--he still had most of a day until the next raid shift, and his time in this chamber was valuable. Hm. There was one ability he’d never been able to get a handle on, despite how useful it had seemed when he’d read of it.

Maiz took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. He focused on his vision, on the strange emptiness there, and summoned his mana to fill the void. Magic somewhere in between mental and light began flowing from his pool and around his head. He focused for a moment, forming the spell around his eyes before carefully letting the pattern bloom outwards, a simple sphere with little tendrils along its surface. With the spell’s completion, suddenly Maiz could see the purple room again, the little altar in front of him looking pristine despite its age, his smoking staff lying a few feet away. As the spell continued out, he could see behind himself as well--bare, perfectly smooth stone with purple light emanating from an unknown source. I’m doing better than I did last time. Was it because he was in a smaller area? There was less to perceive here, that was for certain.

Then the pattern extended further, and he could see the holes in the ceiling that let air in and out of the chamber, and was aware of their precise location in relation to him. The world shifted, and with his Thousand Eyes Maiz could see himself, standing dumbly before the altar. Then he buckled, beginning to retch, and he was vaguely aware of a splitting pain in his skull. With what felt like a relaxation of his will more than an effort, he let go of the spell. Sweet, blessed darkness returned, along with the sound of a dull thunk.

It really feels like my cheek is touching vomit right now. Maiz knew he should care about that fact, but the pain in his skull wouldn’t let him. And then, finally, all sensation ceased. For a moment.

“You know Maiz, I know you’re sixteen and everything, but you really shouldn’t let girls see you passed out in a puddle of your own vomit.”

“Uh, do you really count as a girl?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry.” Miz thought it was a fair question. Riala was very, very old, and a Divine messenger. Hells, she’d just appeared before him again in a featureless void, her beautiful face made harsh by the purple light that emanated from her eyes. “So…”

“Hi!”

“Hi.” Maiz was more than a little wary. What had he done to warrant a visit from Riala?

“Oh, I could have visited you a long time ago. Finding the Temple and the room and everything was more than enough of a great work. I just didn’t really think you needed it.”

Hm. That’s interesting--wait. “Riala. Did you just, uh, read my mind?”

Riala laughed, her eyes flashing, and she gave Maiz an affectionate pat. Her touch felt surprisingly normal, despite the whole ‘floating in dreamlike emptiness’ thing. “I just know how you think. You’re sorta predictable, you know. And I know what your next question’s gonna be too! You are pretty smart, after all.”

Maiz himself didn’t think he knew what he wanted to ask her. Except of course, that if she had waited to see him even though she could have done so earlier, then…

“Why now?”

“Hah! I just thought you looked stupid, passed out like that in front of one of Father’s altars!”

Maiz just looked at her.

“You know, you were funnier when you fell for my pranks.”

“Your pranks used to be better.” Maiz gave her a little smile.

“Ouch! You know, if you’d seen… oh, never mind. I have to get through business first here.” Riala’s smile vanished, and the light in her eyes dimmed somewhat. Maiz felt an involuntary shiver run through him as he looked at her. She was surprisingly inhuman when she wasn’t laughing.

“There has been an… offer. A trade.”

Maiz frowned. “With who?”

“Well, you’ve earned a bit of knowledge, I guess--this information isn’t too expensive. I, and those of my kind, are extensions of our creators. The Seven have all sorts of rules about fair play and balance and things. I think it’s got to do with Lord Massahn, or Lord Nomenadon. Anyways, we’re restricted in every kind of information we can give humans--we can’t help the interests of our god without helping an opposing one equally. And when it comes to you God-Chosen, the rules are even stricter. All information need great works, and knowledge of other God-Chosen can only come as an equal exchange. If you want to know something about a Chosen, they’ve got to know the same thing about you.”

That was interesting, and it implied something somewhat troubling. “Which God-Chosen wants to know about me?”

“To tell you which one, you’d have to make a request to trade information. Do you want--”

“--no,” Maiz interrupted quickly. “Sorry, go on.”

“The request is simple--what is the Name and patron of each of the God-Chosen? If you give them your Name, you’ll get theirs in return. Do you accept?”

It didn’t even warrant consideration. “No.”

Riala smiled. “Nice job! I was really hoping you weren’t stupid enough to agree to that. Now then, is there anything you want to ask me? You’ve earned one question.”

Hm. He could ask about his own advancement, but he thought he’d be able to earn another question before he needed to worry about Adept, and anything but information about feats he could just figure out himself. What did that leave? The other God-Chosen. But what to ask? It had to be something he was willing to give up about himself, but also that he wanted to know about others. Something about location? But no, if he asked for something too specific it would damn him, and anything general wouldn’t be that useful. Advancement? He entertained that notion, but how useful would it be to know how much stronger than him his enemies were? Enemies. It was more than a little terrifying to think about the other God-Chosen, all with titles on par with his own and more time to develop them. He would need to be prepared when he finally met one of them. Hopefully it would only be one. Oh.

“How many other God-Chosen have the others met in person, to their knowledge? I’ve met none.”

Riala nodded. “I’ll make the requests. Might take a week or so, depending on how easily I can track down the other liaisons. Some of them are… difficult.” Her smile widened. “Good question!”

Maiz nodded his thanks. It wasn’t much, but at least he would know if any of the others were ahead. If two God-Chosen met, the only scenarios Maiz could imagine were an alliance or a fight. Either one would indicate a strong opponent, and it was worth seeing how far behind he was in that regard. He'd entertained adding in a question about which God-Chosen they'd met, but he already had doubts anyone would be willing to take this trade if they'd actually met another Chosen. Any more informaion would be asking for too much.

“Okay, you should probably go back and clean your face now. Bye!”

Maiz opened his eyes, and felt his stomach roll as the smell of bile hit him. There wasn’t actually that much--thankfully, he’d been using Enlightenment to stave off hunger and thirst and his stomach had mostly been empty. But he still had a bit of… cleaning to do before the fighting later that night. Wonderful.