I stared out into night, wrapped once more in my cold weather clothing. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and there was nothing but darkness for as far as I could see, relieved only by the light from the Citadel.

I was on the balcony belonging to the suite Raaf had granted me for my stay here, trying not to think about the fact that I’m going to have to spend a prolonged period of time with Darina. After Walker and Sonja’s revelation that she and Reff would be coming with me to return the egg, and about our shared advantage, she had left to practice, or at least that is what she told us. I was not sure I believed her, but who was I to judge a little emotionality? I had spent most of my life as a wreck, and for a while after my arrival there on that world, I had some serious self-control issues.

Light in the distance brought me out of my ruminating, and I focused on a distant line of bright blue-green, undulating and flowing like water. For a moment, I thought I was looking at an aurora, despite the clouds, perhaps hovering on the distant horizon. After a few moments of trying to gauge distances, I could see the effect spreading, and the contrast allowed me to realise that it was on the ground, rather than in the sky. I almost ran to give warning, but I knew the Citadel had lookouts, and if they needed me to help them do their job, they were in more trouble than I could help with.

Staring at the phenomena in fascination, I watched as the colour spread and changed: Deep reds, yellows and oranges joined the blues and greens, with the occasional violet rippling away into the distance. I followed it with my eyes all the way to the base of the massive structure from which I watched, and I was shocked to realise that the frigid desert was illuminated out as far as I could see, like a canvas painted with light. I stared in wonder, speechless as the colours moved and changed, as I tried to fix it in my mind, to make it part of me forever. Back on Earth, we had 3D cameras and holographic displays, but I did not think that even if I had those things with me, they would be able to capture what I was seeing. The natural spectacle filled me, while I Experienced it as fully as I could.

Leaning against the black-stone rail with a wide smile on my face, I cultivated with tears in my eyes at the beauty before me, but as it turned out, it got better. I heard, in the distance, a voice call out in one long note, deeper than any human voice could hope to reach. After a moment, more joined the first, and so on until a deep chorus filled the night, accompanying the light-show. I could feel the singing through the artificial mountain, vibrating through my feet and arms where I leaned against the rail. It was impossible to guess how many voices sang, but I knew that if I could feel it, it had to be a lot. There were no words, I was fairly certain, given my gift of languages, just pure sound, and what sounded like an expression of sad longing to me. I did not know if I could sing – it had not come up since my arrival and it had not been something I had considered when constructing my body, but I added my voice nonetheless as the tears finally escaped my eyes, finally overwhelmed.

I thought back on my life, as I let my voice become lost in the whole, and though it did not pain me any longer – whatever process brought me to that world had dulled the memories – I could still remember the pain, and so I sang along, lost in the moment and memories.

*

***

*

The next morning, I sat with Reff and his sister, Riffa in another indoor garden, sipping some sort of tea that tasted half-way between mint and pepper. Riffa had been badgering my friend to take her with us since we had arrived, and I had been grinning nonstop at the strangely subdued sibling bickering.

“With finality, as I have said, sister: you will need to ask our brother. Whether you may accompany us is not my decision.” This was the second or third time Reff had said as much – with finality – and it did not look like Riffa was any closer to giving in. There was a pause, and I could tell Riffa was formulating a new line of attack, so I took pity on my beleaguered friend and quickly interjected.

“What was with the lights, last night? Is that normal? And the singing? It was amazing.”

Reff looked grateful at the interruption and quickly refocused on me before his sister could drag the conversation back.

“With thankful enthusiasm, it is normal, Hunter. When the temperature drops sufficiently, the sand reacts. Our alchemists tell us that is it in fact mycelium, interwoven in the sand which produce the effect.” It was a little creepy that the vast desert around us was so completely covered in fungus, but who was I to argue with beauty?

“With reluctance, we use an alchemically modified version of this effect to produce the lights you see around us.” Riffa’s voice sounded like she was not done making her arguments, but she was also unwilling to be rude enough to simply change the conversation back.

I looked around at the illuminated lines, which were so different from the other places I had visited, and I wondered if you could get glowing tattoos. I thought back to Lucas, and the glowing sigils inscribed in his skin, and wondered if they were related.

“And the singing? It sounded really sad, somehow.”

“In reflection, that is less common, though not rare. Many of our elders still remember our original home, and miss it; it was about this that they sang last night. Sometimes it is other songs, of joy or anger. We are artists at heart.”

I blinked at my friend as he mentioned their original home, as that was the first mention of it, I had heard. I had only ever heard the Citadel referenced when speaking of Reff’s people’s home.

“This isn’t where your people are from? I mean, I know you said your brother made this place, but you didn’t live here before that?”

Both Reff and his sister stared at me for a moment, but then Reff nodded, as if remembering something and speaking again.

“In realisation, I had forgotten that would not know, Hunter. We are not originally from this world – we crossed over during a war between this world and our home roughly three centuries ago.”

I felt my mouth drop open and I caught myself staring. I had heard of wars between worlds before, but it had not occurred to me that you could stay behind afterwards, especially given how people had reacted to my own sojourns between them.

“You’re from another world? I thought that was impossible?”

“With hesitation, it is believed that when a war is declared, each pantheon involved grants the other’s peoples permissions on their worlds, mutually. How else could war be waged?”

That made a lot of sense, and I was embarrassed that I had not put it together myself.

“Did you get trapped here, when the door closed? I’m so sorry, Reff.”

“In dismissal, I was not yet born, though my brother was. Our home had grown very warlike, and we, the artisan – or Stone - Caste, were suffering under growing persecution, or so I am told. When the Metal Caste went to war with your own world, we took the opportunity to flee here. It is a sad thing to leave one’s home, and was done only due to necessity. Which is why our elders mourn for its loss.”

“And this is where you ended up?”

It was Riffa who answered, her voice subdued.

“With reluctance, no, Hunter. For many years, we wandered the world as refugees. When we first arrived, our peoples were still at war, and so we were not welcomed. It was many years before my brother reached his current state, and we came looking for an uninhabited land on which to build our new home. This is where we chose to settle.”

I thought about their story, and the parallels from my original home and shook my head, glad at least that they had found a new home, where they could live without persecution. And that they seemed to have settled in – nobody I had yet met had treated them as anything other than people, and certainly not as former enemies. There was probably something in the fact that it was so long ago, though it occurred to me that I had no idea how long normal people lived. I knew that at least one Apex was supposed to be at least three-thousand years old, and there was the imprisoned one who was at least eleven thousand, but they were both far from normal.

“Well, I'm really glad you have a home now, and I hope that eventually the loss of your last one will fade.”

The siblings nodded, their faces sober, but they quickly seemed to recover from the melancholy mood.

“...With calm persuasion, if you were to ask brother if I could accompany you, there is a much better chance of him saying yes when I ask.”

I grinned as Riffa managed to finally get the conversation back on track, sipping my tea to hide it as Reff glanced over at me for help.

*

***

*

It was midday when I met Walker and Aella at another practice hall. Reff had been dragged off to see his brother, so I had made my own way there, proud that I had only become lost two or three times.

“Perhaps we should begin with the sword, as Hunter is less likely to injure himself with one?” Walker’s voice was low and calm, but the corner of his mouth was turned up slightly, his head tilted towards my teacher.

“I would not put it past him! He did almost kill himself with a few simple passes with the chain.”

“Teacher, those weren’t simple passes. I could barely see you moving, or whatever you were doing with the chain.”

For a moment, Aella looked embarrassed, but it faded so fast that I could almost believe that I had imagined it.

“Well, in future, I will make sure to slow it down even more for you. I am not used to trying to teach the chain to somebody so... slow.”

I knew Aella primarily taught the basics, and the chain seemed to be an advanced weapon, so I could understand her being more used to teaching it to a more advanced pupil, but even so, I hoped our future training sessions would go a lot better than the first.

Turning back to Walker, I pulled a sword from a ring, holding it at my side as I stood at the ready.

“I will show you a practice form which encompasses the basic movements for that style of sword. It is called The Sword’s Tide. Pay attention.” As my dark mentor spoke, a sword similar in style to the one I was holding appeared in his hand. It was about three and a third feet long and constructed from some violet metal, with concentric patterns of a dark blue rippling through it. There was little to no guard, like mine and the hilt seemed to be wrapped in some sort of white, pebbled leather.

I focused my attention on him, expecting another blinding display like the one from Aella, but the movements Walker started were the exact opposite. Moving at a glacial pace – so slow that it was hard to tell at times that he was moving at all – my mentor began to move through a sword form that seemed to concentrate on conserving and redirecting momentum. There were lots of rotating turns, of both the body and the blade. It took an hour for Walker to complete the first demonstration, but when he did, he turned to me and then burst back into motion, spinning through the form at the precise limit at which I was capable of paying attention.

This time, he was done in a few minutes, and I stood gaping at him and the grace he had displayed. This was the first time I had seen him use a sword with his actual hands and it was without a doubt the most intimidating display of personal skill I had ever seen, period.

“This form is mostly defensive in nature, however it is also capable of a surprising level of attack if used properly. Given the nature of your Focus, I believe this will be the most benefit to you, at this early stage.”

“Walker, if that’s a basic form, I don’t think I can imagine a complex one.”

“That will change. Come, you will perform the form alongside me. Aella, please correct him, if needed.”

I walked over and stood alongside my mentor, my gaze fixed on him as he began to move. Moving with him, I initially thought it was going to be easy, to run through it at least, if not to memorise the form. I was wrong.

It turns out, that doing something meant to be done at speed very, very slowly was actually very, very hard. Despite my current strength, which would have been considered well into the superhuman back on Earth, I found myself sweating after ten minutes, my body aching to move faster. Every time I started to speed up, Aella would slap me lightly, and every time my form deviated by so much as a millimetre from Walker’s own.

At the end of the first hour, I thought we were done, but just as I was about to start stretching my aching limbs, Walker started again from the beginning, slightly faster this time.

By the end of the fourth hour, I was drenched with sweat, having finally moved through the form more than fifteen times, with each repetition faster than the last until by the end I had been moving at what I considered a fast pace, though my accuracy had fallen behind somewhat, earning me many slaps and reprimands as I was adjusted back on course.

Pushing the sword back into a ring, I sat down on the sand and wiped sweat from my face, as I looked up at my perfectly calm mentor, who seemed as dry as a bone and showed not even a hint of strain.

“You did well, Hunter. You must practice this form every day, but remember that practical use will require practice as well. A form is useful to teach movements, but an opponent will almost never come at you in the order you are used to. Mastering the sword is knowing when to break the rules, and how. Now, are you ready to continue?”

“Continue? We’re not done?!”

“Of course not, Hunter. To pursue the blade is to pursue perfection, and perfection cannot be reached with half a heart.”

Groaning, I climbed to my feet again and pulled the sword out once more, thinking to myself that I should have anticipated such an attitude from one of the best in the world...