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“I understand you are amazed by the contents of this room.” Voxis… didn’t speak, exactly. But I certainly heard her. “I will not explain any of it. Any questions you have, direct them to Oregano. If you would believe it, I had important documents to read through that I could have been making progress with while Brynn’s past finally caught up with him.”

The room we were in had obviously been converted for arcane purposes. There was a circular stone platform that took up half the space, upon which were chalk circles, wine circles, and arcane glyphs, most of which I understood individually. But when they were together like that, they formed sentences like. Home null destroy space create tree infinite One.

On the other half of the room was a writing desk, and then shelves of arcane ingredients. I always liked arcane studies like this, even if the sages had forced me into more than one of them each during Avien’s training. The reason being there was always liquorice readily accessible, and I always took some as a snack. Today was no exception.

Voxis finished her little monologue and stared at me as I chewed on the black sweet. “Asking does exist, unless I’m misremembering something.”

“No, it still exists.” I shrugged, not seeing a point in asking late. It was just liquorice. The stuff was in high supply in Veliki, as I understood it, because it was a component of a number of popular spells. Just one, actually. The go-fast one.

Brynn gave me a warning look, tailored to warn me of Voxis if the way he pointed using his eyes was any indication.

I cleared my throat. “Is it too late to ask for forgiveness?” I asked, only because it was suggested I should.

Voxis made a noncommittal sound, and I assumed that forgiveness was overrated anyway.

“So where’s the demiplane room?” I asked.

“This is the demiplane room.” Brynn told me. “Voxis is going to cast a spell that will take us to the demiplane that I will train you in.”

“To clear up a misconception,” Voxis paused in her pointless movements at the writing desk. There was nothing arcane happening there, so I wasn’t sure what she was doing. “I will not be casting a spell. Rather, I will simply be charging an arcane sigil that will convert the magic into the appropriate form, as connecting to a demiplane is not within my standard arcane reach.”

“It’s not within the standard arcane reach of these glyphs, either.” I moved over to the circles and gestured at the offending glyphs with my half eaten liquorice. “This is food, that’s tree, that’s… campfire.” I glanced at Voxis in confusion at that one, but I kept going. “What I don’t see is ‘root’, which is something all demiplane spells need, since it determines what the room is made of.”

Voxis gave me a look not unlike the one she gave me on the staircase, only this time she was actually interested. Brynn was giving me a calculating look that he hadn’t erased his surprise off of yet.

“You are to learn Rezan.” Voxis stated.

I shrugged. “I don’t have an understanding of basic magics. Just advanced theory stuff that the sages dragged me through, or what I can remember of that. To go from a fifth tier magic to an eighth tier you would need four circles, but I can only see three. If you ask me, this isn’t an eighth tier spell like demiplane is. Rather, it’s a seventh tier one, but you can charge it off of a fifth tier strand of magic going by the transitory wine circles.” I frowned, looking again. “Nope, that’s blood.”

“Your magical potential is low.” Voxis didn’t have the social courtesy to say that politely. I respected that, but it still grated. “Even cantrips are challenging for you. While such knowledge is perfectly normal here, how did you chance across it?”

“I just told you? Sages. The ones that came through over eight years for Avien. He didn’t want to go through all that without me, so I had to suffer through it too.”

Brynn’s eyebrows lowered back to their original positions in understanding as Voxis gave me half a nod. “I remember that. We were planning to institute a law that forbade that method of getting around the restriction after that necromancer fellow figured out something was up and blew the whistle on the whole thing.”

That surprised me. Though, I supposed that now I was thinking about it, it was strange that Mary delegated the teaching of her arcane secrets to eight other people. She was normally pretty secretive about that kind of thing and was for some reason proud of her repertoire. Which was hardly an uncommon trait amongst arcane practitioners like herself and Vycar, but the latter clearly had a vaster arcane collection than Mary fucking Shepard. Regardless, the term ‘arcane secrets’ was commonplace for a reason.

I caught on to something that Brynn said. “You were going to?”

“There ended up not being a need to.” Voxis answered, sadistic glee slipping into her ‘voice’, and becoming much more prevalent in the unique medium. “Someone cursed Veliki. Normally that’s not possible, or requires specific planar alignment and resources of the exotic and rare variety. But with the number of Chosen here, it was relatively easy for the warlock to bestow a very specific curse.”

She smiled, and I only knew because it reached her oversized eyes. It was not a pleasant sight to see. “Suddenly a number of Chosen were trying to bring in teachers and tutors for their own spawn, only for the prospective teachers to meet sudden and unfortunate accidents. Since most of the teachers weren’t Chosen themselves, the survival rate was low.”

My first thought was Angelica, but she was hardly the only warlock in Veliki. Voxis was a warlock herself, so it was entirely possible she was just talking about herself. Of course, it was also entirely possible that this stuff wasn’t important to me and that I didn’t really care in the moment.

“So are you going to cast the Marvelous Manor?” I asked, impatient. It was the only spell I could think of that fit what I saw before me.

“It is more of a creepy cabin.” Voxis informed me to Brynn’s chagrin. She released magic into a receptacle on the perimeter of the magic circle, and a ghostly door shimmered into existence with little fanfare. Then it swung open with an unsettling creak, revealing a dingy cabin that even my shitty house was cleaner than.

“I object to your interpretation of the place I grew up in.” Brynn told Voxis.

“Bah.” Voxis gestured at the door with disgust. “You told me an angel lived there for as long as you did. That makes me automatically assume it was a terrible place to live that wears down on the senses. The power conversions in the circle are imperfect, so the spell length isn’t as long as it should be. You have eight hours in there, after which you will be ejected back into this room.” She turned to me. “Speak to me before you leave.”

Then Voxis left, leaving me wondering if that referred to today, or if she somehow knew I was planning to leave in seven days. The thought occupied my mind more than I’d have liked, but I pushed it aside and walked into the door after Brynn.

The cabin wasn’t well lit since there weren’t any light sources inside. There was a fire pit, which was unlit. A ladder leading up to a second floor, but it was rickety, and parts of the floor looked like they could be lifted up to access storage underneath. The entire building seemed to have had the colour drained from it somewhat, and creaked occasionally.

Brynn sighed. “They can never resist a joke.” Then he turned to me. “We’ll train outside.”

“Can we even go outside?” I frowned. “Marvelous manor just makes the manor.”

Brynn answered that by pushing the front door open and walking outside. “It seems the garden is part of the manor.”

I followed hesitantly. While Brynn walked around, commenting on things that were out of place, I walked straight out and kept going until I found the wall. Sure enough, once I got far enough away there was an arcane barrier coupled with an illusion to make it seem like the grass just kept going. It wasn’t really a garden, after all. It was more of a hillside.

Normally there would be servants and food supplied by the spell, whatever the caster wished within certain limits. Neither of those were here, but it was hardly a standard casting so I assumed that was planned. Plus, Voxis seemed to have the disposition to deprive those kinds of things from Brynn.

Speaking of, the man was done reminiscing at about the time that I made it back. “Well, what do you think?” He asked with a grin, not quite done reminiscing, apparently.

“It’s a magical construction.” I deadpanned. “We’re under a dome that just looks like the sky and countryside.”

“I suppose it is humble.” Brynn admitted, glancing at the rickety shack that could accurately be called a creepy cabin. “Then let’s get to the reason we’re here. May I see your weapon?” He held his hand outstretched. I put the drow sword in it, sheath and all.

Brynn blinked as he drew it, tested the weight of the sword, gave it a few swings, and then hummed. “I like this one much better than the dagger you were using before.” He declared. “But this one will give you more difficulty in practicing Rezan than the blade forged in the Hells, so we won’t be using this one for your training.”

“Why’s that?” I asked shortly.

“This is made from regular steel.” Brynn explained, sheathing the curved sword and passing it back to me. “Hence, it hasn’t been tempered with magic yet. Your dagger, which was forged in a place where magic is thick enough that it sours the air, will be much more responsive to your attempts to shape the magic within.”

“Fair enough.” I dropped the drow sword next to the door to the cabin, it would just weigh me down. Then I drew the dagger. “Do you want a look at this one then?”

“Please.” Brynn held his hand out, and I passed it off with a little awkwardness. “How did you come across this?” He asked as he ran his eyes over it and tested it in a similar way to how he did the sword.

“Casien.” I said shortly. Brynn paused in his inspection and gave me a flat look. “I asked. He delivered. Then he went to Hell.”

Brynn nodded slowly. “It feels weird when it’s you that’s saying things like that. You’re supposed to be the normal one.”

“I get mind controlled almost daily.” I said.

“Though, I shouldn’t be surprised.” Brynn continued as though I hadn't spoke. “You spend a lot of time around people who are extremely extravagant. It would be unfair to assume you would grow like someone isolated from all this Chosen business.”

“So how is this going to work?” I asked with a sigh. This was another reminder to never get my hopes up about someone finally hearing my call for help. And a distraction from the reason I was here.

Brynn handed my dagger back to me. “First, you’re going to try and become aware of the magic within the blade and attempt to shape it. Gather it. Focus it. Put it in the blade. You will be able to do that, since it’s about as hard as sensing magic in wood and you have a record of success there. The hard part is pushing it to the edge.”

“Will I need an incantation?” I asked. Torment had mentioned something about me needing an incantation the first time I’d done this.

“No. Wood has different properties to steel, and the magic in something wooden is always trying to return to the form in which it grew. Hence it requires constant maintenance. Metal is malleable, and will protest less to being shaped that way. You won’t be needing one for this form of Rezan.”

“So the incantation would have locked the magic in place, then?” I checked. Brynn nodded, which I expected. That was the magic shaping theory behind a number of advanced spells as well, so it made sense. “Do I just,” I gestured with the dagger.

“Yes.” Brynn nodded. “In your own time.”

I frowned and reached inside for that feeling of running. It had been a few days since I last tried it, but now that I knew what I was looking for, I was able to conjure up the endless feeling much more easily than before. Once I had that, I realised I didn’t have it in the dagger. That was different to what I’d felt with the wooden sword, so I started moving the magic towards the dagger which was suddenly slapped out of my hand by a mithril blade.

Before I could protest, the point of the Brynn’s blade jumped up and dragged itself across the surface of my cheek. “Please, Amber,” He said in the exact same tone. “In your own time.”

I touched my cheek and my fingers game away with red on them. “So that’s how it’s going to be?” I checked, something like anticipation in my voice.

Brynn smirked and gestured with his free hand, which was glowing. “I have healing hands, so you won’t have any scratches leaving marks against your beauty.” The glow receded. “But I only have so much healing to give. So please, in your own time.”

Grinning stupidly, I ducked and lunged for my dagger. Brynn’s blade wasn’t fooled and still got me on the arm before I could get away. Heedless of my superficial wound, because that’s what it was, I snatched up my dagger and put some distance between Brynn and me. He was strolling towards me at a leisurely pace.

After putting enough distance between him and me, I changed my mind and retreated all the way to the arcane wall, then started gathering that feeling inside again. I got as far as I did before when a mithril blade was dragged across the back of my left hand, making me drop the dagger again.

“I’ll get that one for you.” Brynn dragged his healing hand across the gash he just made, healing it despite me trying not to let him touch me. Somehow, he had travelled that space much faster than I expected him to. Or gathering the magic within me just took that long.

I ignored the strange itchiness that healing induced on physical injuries and snatched up my dagger again. In the process of doing that, I got three more cuts on various places around my body. The fact that I was dodging as best I could was pointedly ignored as Brynn scratched me up like some criminal that counted his kills with scars on his arms. Only I was the arm.

It stung like a bitch, too.

I tried to push magic into my blade again, but Brynn caught up to me before I could make any progress. This time I got two more cuts for my trouble.

“In your own time.” He reminded me.

Brynn had only said that phrase five times, and already I was hating it.

This time, I did my best to keep an eye on Brynn while I worked up the magic inside of me. Even if Brynn claimed the dagger had more magic in it than the sword, I still couldn’t sense the magic there, and I couldn’t flex what I couldn’t feel. My solution was to push my own magic in there and push it against the edge of the blade. I didn’t know if it would work, but I didn’t know what else to do. In any case, it fit the theory.

Then, right before I got the magic into the dagger, Brynn cut me again and I dropped it. This time he followed up by cutting the skin on my collarbone, right under my neck. I had no idea how he got so close.

“The foes that stand still are the easiest to slay.” Brynn informed me, as if it wasn’t common sense. “I know I said ‘in your own time’, but come on.”

I glared at him as I retrieved my dagger and got three cuts closer to my death by a thousand cuts, but he had a point. When I was conjuring my magic, I lost my awareness of the world around me. It reminded me of a common theme in stories featuring adventuring parties where there was a swordsman and a mage.

The mage always stood at the back while the swordsman protected them. No matter how effective the swordsman was, it was always the mage casting some obscene magic that saved the day or killed the big bad evil one. Usually a guy. The stories painted it as a beneficial relationship. The swordsman gives the mage the time needed to cast, and the mage ensures that their meat shield survived, usually.

Rezan was a combination of the two practices. It was magic designed to make a swordsman. That meant the swordsman and the mage were one, and there was no second character to protect the magic swordsman as they cast. Therefore, the magic swordsman could not afford to sink into concentration like the mage did, but they still needed to cast, otherwise their skills were pointless.

So that’s what this was. Rezan was like a spell and needed concentration to initiate. But I couldn't afford to spare that concentration since Brynn was waiting for me to stand still and would cut me the moment I stopped paying attention. I got the point of the lesson, but I didn’t appreciate the pain.

I watched Brynn like a hawk, stepping backwards when he stepped forwards as I tried to push my magic into the dagger in my hand. I nearly had it, but then Brynn was next to me and disarmed me once more.

He gave me a few more cuts, told me, “In your own time.” And we repeated.

And we repeated again and again.

And then I lashed out.

We had been doing this song and dance for what felt like all day and I had long since become tired of it. That being said, I wasn’t about to give up. If I failed here, then I’d be dead when I left Veliki. No question. I still hadn’t managed to push my magic into my blade thanks to Brynn constantly interrupting me. Me lashing out wasn’t an action made in the spur of the moment, it was planned. Brynn slapping the dagger out of my hands one too many times being the critical factor behind the decision.

Since distance didn’t matter to Brynn, I only bothered to retreat twice his sword’s reach. I conjured my magic as I always did, then instead of pushing it into the sword, I let it writhe there. A feeling not unlike vertigo that pushed me forward instead of down. I kept it in check as I retreated backwards and waited for Brynn to pounce.

The Once Chosen of the Heavens was as immaculate as the first time I saw him. Sweat did not pour from his forehead like it did from mine, and it certainly did not mix with blood from a dozen cuts on my face alone. The wounds were superficial, and never bled more than a drop or two, but with the sweat factoring in old wounds sometimes started bleeding again. The man that gave me those wounds strolled towards me unending. This particular retreat started near the cabin, but had continued until I was almost backed against the arcane wall of the space.

Brynn attacked suddenly, almost taking me off guard, but I had been expecting that. I lunged forwards under his sword and thrust the dagger into his stomach, not unlike how I prefered to greet Avien. Only this time the magic flowed from me into my weapon like a striking viper. The point of my dagger angled itself just so and glided into Brynn’s body as if it were made up of air.

My eyes widened as the blade was buried up to the hilt, halting the strike and making me realise what I’d done. I ripped the dagger out, but that only caused blood to spill on me as I made the wound worse. “Uh.”

“Don’t worry about it, Amber.” Brynn smiled as he used his healing hands on the wound I gave him. I realised my worry may have been unwarranted. After all, he had been standing with a greatsword impaled in him earlier, and he hadn’t had any trouble holding a conversation then. “You passed the first lesson.”

My shoulders sagged hearing that. Then I frowned. “And what was the first lesson?”

“Achieving Rezan with metal.” Brynn told me. I looked at my blade and saw the red metal had a sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. Magic. Somehow, I felt less giddy about achieving this magic now than I did at Torment’s cabin. My hundreds of cuts might have had something to do with that. The Once Chosen of the Heavens cleared his throat before continuing his explanation.

“The biggest difference between wood and metal is that any piece of wood can be picked up and used for Rezan using Torment’s method, provided it’s light enough to be swung. Metal needs to be tempered. It takes time. The first time always takes the longest, but we sped that up with a constant state of crisis. Next time you should be able to achieve it with an hour of meditation.

“Your dagger is still metal, so anyone trained with such a weapon could use that as effectively as they normally would, but you have invested enough of yourself into it that All will warp itself to your desire. How much effect that will have depends on your force of will, of which I can tell you have a fair amount of.”

“The dagger moved on its own.” I remembered. “Is that what Rezan is? Just convincing All that my attacks should be as effective a some musclehead’s?”

“In a sense.” Brynn confirmed. “Now, we’ll be having a break before going over exactly how you are going to be using your weapons. While All is convinced you have the strength of a titan, you still need to know how to use your weapons. You have two blades with you, and I intend to teach you about them equally.” I took that to mean he preferred the drow blade over the devil one, which I blamed his angelic bias for.

“Aren’t you going to heal me?” I demanded when Brynn turned to go to the creepy cabin.

Brynn paused and hummed. “There would be no point.” Then he resumed his walk.

Meaning he was going to keep cutting me. The bastard.

\V/