"So," Commander Dastov sighed, tugging at his beard in frustration, "that's truly all you know."

Renkyk didn't respond while he sat on the ground in that dank dungeon below Eynond's fortress. He wasn't trying to be deceptive toward Dastov. He would have loved to give the commander all that he needed to be freed from that nasty gray stone cell. The truth was that his ability to conjure the Silver Aura did not manifest easily. Much as he tried to make Dastov understand that point, he had no such luck.

"One of my superiors told me something that I didn't initially believe, but you might find this amusing," Dastov smiled while he scratched his nose with the same hand that held his cane. "He's a very strong believer in the High Angel, you see, and zealous men like him have, shall we say, harsh views. He told me that he was certain that Nethron was a fraud, a cheap conjurer of tricks who never had the powers he claimed."

"That's a lie and you know it," Renkyk spat back. "Every soul in Vorlanys saw when he released the Auras and when he spoke to the whole world. That was no cheap trick."

Dastov formed a twisted grin and then paced in front of Renkyk, his cane and black lacquered boots clicking against the rocky floor.

"And yet here you are, unable to wield the Silver Aura he promised you and so many others, except for those random moments where it happens to work," the commander scolded Renkyk. "It rather seems to me that he failed."

His heart surging with rage at Dastov's insults, Renkyk clenched his fists.

"Have you ever met an angel?" Renkyk asked, his voice seething.

"No. No, in fact I have not," Dastov said with an exaggerated note of defeat. "I was vaguely in the presence of Vorlan once, but far away and that was all."

"I have met two. Nethron and Forynda. I saw Nethron raise beasts from the dead and wield the Auras in ways that would astound you. Had Forynda not banished him away, I'm certain we would know things now that would entirely satisfy you," Renkyk insisted, though he felt his energies drain as he tried to summon his passions. Deprived of sleep or ample food had left him too enfeebled. "Had you met Nethron, you'd understand."

Commander Dastov dragged his cane along the ground as he paced. The metal tip scraped horridly against the stone below.

"Your friend, the plump one, Galdrehln, has been of more use to us on the earthly auras than anyone I've run across. Soil, metals, water, ice, and so on. Truly, an outstanding contribution," Dastov said with swelling admiration. "I know that he credits Nethron with his prowess on that front."

"As he should. He learned almost everything he knows straight from Nethron."

"And yet, he tells us that you know far more of the Silver Aura than he does. He refers back to your slaying of that beast time and time and time again," Dastov continued, his voice turning accusative. "So why is it you have been so useless to me?"

Renkyk sensed an opportunity that he hadn't before. He fought off his desire to smirk.

"Perhaps if you treated me more like a partner and less like a prisoner, you would find..." he started, but Dastov cut him off.

"Done," the commander responded with a terse nod. "I'll have my men escort you to my chamber and we can discuss this more over dinner. It’s slightly early for dinner, but I don’t think you’ll mind."

To Renkyk's surprise, that was all there was to it. He was bathed, given a fresh set of robes, and brought to Dastov's personal chambers on the fortress's third level. They were crammed full of bookshelves, various artifacts, and random weapons, all far messier than Renkyk would have assumed given the commander's demeanor. Dastov himself sat at the table in the room's center while preparing dinner for the two of them.

"Do sit down," Dastov motioned to the empty chair across from is own. "I assure you that none of this is poisoned because that would be such a waste of good poison that I could use on a much more deserving target. Were it the case I wanted you dead, there are so much simpler means."

Renkyk complied, sitting on the luxuriously cushioned chair with some trepidation. The dinner looked fairly lovely with sauced meat and an array of vegetables before him, but he had little appetite and grimaced at the offerings.

"Surely you would not be so rude as to refuse my cooking?" Dastov lurched back in feigned outrage. "I spent at least an hour on that."

"Fine," Renkyk grumbled and sampled some of the meat. To his delight, it was as good as it looked. "This is wonderful!"

"Thank you," Dastov smiled and then started eating his own portion. "My mother was a great teacher. I'd have learned more from her had she not, as happens far too often, died young."

"Is that your motivation for..." Renkyk started asking.

"Oh, no. That was so many years ago that I've accepted there's no bringing her back," Dastov interjected, shaking his head. "I was this region's spymaster before the Auras emerged. I was drawn to espionage because I was convinced that it was something where I would possess some talent and that I could serve my emperor in that role. Once the Auras became part of our reality, I saw a new way to serve."

Not one to miss the obvious irony, Renkyk quickly swallowed the food in his mouth and raised a finger, as if we were asking for permission to speak.

"And yet the Auras emerged because of the actions of an angel absolutely opposed to your emperor," Renkyk smirked.

Dastov shook his head and pressed his lips up to his nose.

"One learns in espionage that opportunities don't come in neat little packages, but rather you take what you can," the commander grinned. "This was one such case."

"You do see the absurdity, though?"

"Certainly. But I'm not ashamed of embracing the absurd," Dastov wagged a piece of meat at Renkyk. "I was giving some thought to something that I didn't initially understand about the Auras when I started studying them. It's not the case that our brightest operatives have become the best mages, as we now use the term. Some of the very bright ones have been successful, but there are others who have been hopeless. They can't so much as light a spark."

Renkyk shrugged, ashamed of his own shortcomings in that regard. He always thought of himself as having substantially more brains than Galdrehln and yet, as Dastov said, it was not a clear prerequisite.

"I have noticed that," Renkyk said with a note of humility.

"Indeed, you have. Your friend, as I'm sure you were thinking, is just such a person. Really a bit of an oaf in many ways, but he nonetheless understands this peculiar new craft," Dastov chuckled and swigged a healthy gulp of red wine. "I learned through our intelligence that many of the mages deployed at the Battle of the Nehal River by Prince Duronaht were similarly a strange sort. Some were accomplished, some were, shall I say, a bit deficient in certain regards, but they still made good mages. Good enough at any rate."

"They learned at Nethron's feet in Zarmand," Renkyk replied with a sigh.

"Ah, yes, but others have seen the same growth without ever having met the former Aura Keeper or, for that matter, any angel," Dastov said. "I have come to understand a bit more about the emotional connection one needs to wield the Auras. I've discovered it myself. In the moment you attempt to grasp them, you must understand far more than the name of what it is you are controlling. You must know, or feel, its essence. It's a strange form of study, almost like music or painting."

Renkyk rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair.

"You're telling me things I already know," he scoffed. "Is this actually going anywhere?"

Pushing back from the table, Dastov stood and paced around the table, lurking at times behind Renkyk. Many moments passed before the commander was ready to speak again.

"Every Aura we've discovered so far had at least some with an affinity for it. There are those who grasp water, fire, stone, metal, and so on with varying degrees of ease. It's all part of our world and different people take to different things. I think it's no more than who some are better taken to working with iron than leather," Dastov commented dismissively. "But this doesn't apply to the Silver Aura. Nethron, of course, tried to lead us toward it, but no one has had much beyond the faintest glimpses of what it offers. Except you."

"I can count on one hand the things I've done with it," Renkyk mumbled in shame.

"Which is one hand more than anyone else. I don't care if it was by accident or whatever else you think it might have been," Dastov declared. "Now, with the other Auras, reagents help mages to focus their minds on the essence of the Aura at hand. The Silver Aura has baffled me on this front, even when I can manage something."

The commander stepped back in front of Renkyk and emanated a brief argent flash from his cane, which caused Renkyk to recoil, feeling nauseous and cold for but a single moment. He immediately recovered.

"Hrm. I didn't hear Nethron's voice this time," Dastov commented seemingly to himself alone. "All I do to form this pitiful and useless bond is think back to when Nethron made his announcement to the world. I have nothing else to go on. What have you used when you draw upon it?"

That question struck Renkyk as more personal than it should have. It was almost as though it was rude or somehow inappropriate.

"My friendship with Nethron. I think about what time we spent together and that helps me to focus," Renkyk offered, gesturing with his hands as though they were converging on a point.

Dastov frowned and tapped his cane on the stone floor.

"Clearly not well enough. Not nearly well enough," the commander grumbled. "Now, the one time you were truly successful, you were on the verge of getting killed by a vicious beast. You said that you focused your mind on what you had seen Nethron do with it."

"That's right, as we've discussed."

"But that's a dry well," Dastov riposted. "You say you've tried repeating how your mind concentrated at that time and have had no such success since."

"A few flashes, but generally you are right," Renkyk conceded.

"Now, you've also told me that Nethron himself found the Silver Aura perplexing, that its origins are less clear than for other Auras and that he actually needed to follow the spirits of those animals he attempted to bring back to life to the Communion of Souls. That is what you said, correct?" Dastov inquired.

"That was how I understood it."

"My good man, I think you've been focusing on the wrong avenue for your studies," Dastov blurted in excitement. "We need to focus on death itself to trace the Silver Aura and truly understand it. Your mind has been focusing on your bond with Nethron because that makes the most sense to you, but Netron's own understanding of the Silver Aura came from observing death."

It was such a staggeringly simple observation that it bordered on being insulting to Renkyk, but he immediately surmised that it was indeed correct. Nethron had commented on as much in his efforts to wield the Silver Aura. In the traumatic days following the Aura Liberator's obliteration, Renkyk had almost entirely forgotten that fact.

"There is a different side as well, though," Renkyk said, attempting to find some grounds on which to disagree with Dastov. "In my notes and from what I remember, Nethron found keeping the restored bodies stable to be the greatest challenge. That he was able to snare spirits from the Communion of Souls was something he understood, being a denizen of Ceuna. I saw a few of his attempts fall apart much the same way when I used it I disintegrated an already living creature."

Dastov shook his head.

"One thing at a time. If my hypothesis is right, I think the two of us would benefit from frequenting the infirmary here in Eynond," the commander chirped and tapped his cane against the ground. "In a word, we need to be near the dying."

The calmness with which Dastov outlined that foul plan caused Renkyk to recoil.

"I don't think that..." Renkyk started.

"You don't have a problem with death, surely?" Dastov interjected, his eyes squinting in disbelief. "You have been near many people as they've died, have you not?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"I can't even begin to count how many I've seen die. You shouldn't find it upsetting. Death is what we mortals specialize in," he smirked and stroked his beard. "And I surmise that you have been near death enough to have an unspoken, unthinking bond with it, which is why you were able to wield the Silver Aura, however briefly and clumsily. The same applies to me and to many others whom we hope to enlist. Now, we should head to the city's infirmary immediately. I'm excited to test this theory."

Eynond's infirmary was on the city's east end, almost abutting the eastern gatehouse. Renkyk learned that many travelers coming from the east developed a negative impression of Eynond for this reason, thinking of it as a city of sickness and death. Indeed, the infirmary was a large dark gray stone building with sobering sculptures on its outside depicting the sick and dying, albeit in favorable terms. They were made to be martyrs rather than objects of disgust.

Inside, Renkyk smelled a strange mix of odors foul and fragrant, the latter of which he was certain was layered on to cover up the former. In the dull lighting, he tried to take in the impressive structure while a young and robust woman wearing blue and white robes approached them.

"Greetings. I am Commander Dastov of..." Dastov began, bowing politely.

"I know who you are, commander," she said curtly while her narrow green eyes looked at Renkyk. "Your assistant?"

"Of sorts. He and I were undertaking a study of the Auras and we believe that this would be a good place to..."

"Just don't interrupt our work," she scolded him, raising a finger. "We have thirty-one patients all taken ill with a serious breathing ailment. Based on yesterday, very few will make it to morning, but we will try to save those we can. You can have my chamber off the main sick hall. I'll be far to busy to use it."

Once in the woman's chamber, a combination of an apothecary's storehouse and a bedchamber, Renkyk and Dastov simply waited amidst the racks of herbs and linens. Renkyk heard the constant coughs and cries of agony from the adjoining hall where the dozens of sick lay dying and convulsing. His stomach clenched while they waited, but Dastov showed no such discomfort. He yawned and stretched, tapping his cane in a repetitive rhythm with his eyes closed.

"You should focus your mind," Dastov said. "The dying will soon be dead and we need to be watchful or else this is just an awful waste of time."

Renkyk agreed on that much, even if Dastov's detached demeanor unnerved him to no end. Several times he thought about possibly assaulting the commander and trying to escape, but he suspected that Dastov was more formidable than he let on. Instead, he complied and closed his eyes to bond with the Auras until such time as death claimed those unfortunate souls nearby.

His wait was not long. An argent pulse flickered across his vision, originating from the adjoining hall.

"I saw that, too," Dastov whispered. "This is promising."

Soon the iridescent silvery light skittered away, vanishing into a void. Renkyk despaired at the fact he had not felt a stronger bond. He vowed to redouble his efforts for the next one. It was at least an hour of silent waiting before he saw it again. This time, he combined his memories of Nethron with the observed argent pulse and reached out his hand. The silvery light flashed brightly at him and Renkyk felt invisible tendrils grasp onto him.

"Closer," a voice called from the void, reverberating.

"Nethron?" he whispered.

He heard Dastov let out an amused chuckle.

"Keep trying," Nethron's voice became clearer.

Another pulse, a stronger one this time, glowed brilliantly across the whole of his vision. It carried with it an agonized wail and offered to Renkyk an ethereal tendril. With the greatest of apprehensions, Renkyk allowed his mind to latch on to it fully. It let out the strangest warbling noise that then morphed into a shattering shriek as the argent light then surged across an imponderable whir of shapes, sounds, lights, and sensations beyond Renkyk's comprehension. It was both a wondrous dream and a mortifying nightmare in one as he sailed through it.

Then, a sudden stop.

Renkyk heard a dissonant chorus of voices far beyond count, howling and distant, whirring before him in a blur of white, silver, and gold light. He backed away to try to gauge the mass more clearly, but it was in vain. No vantage point would allow him to grasp the enormity of what was before him. The silvery light he followed blended into the mass. He saw thousands of others of varying hues do the same, each joining with a strange fanfare of noises from the others part of the full body.

He suddenly lost his sight of the phenomenon and was once again in the void he had been before.

"I am sorry to have jolted you out of that," Nethron's voice sounded out around him. "It is merely that an opportunity to speak with someone again was too tempting for me."

"Was that what I thought it was?" Renkyk asked. He sensed Dastov's stare falling upon him, but quickly put it out of mind so as not to lose this bond.

"The Communion of Souls, yes," the Aura Liberator said. "So many dead from so many places and so many times. For me, reaching it was no difficulty as that is part of Ceuna. What eluded me was something that I realize now you are well-suited to rectify."

"What is that?"

"I never understood at a meaningful level the mortal existence and that is why I failed to repair the deceased so that they could endure when restored. You, as a mortal, will have an easier time of that. It was an irony I never expected," Nethron quipped. "Knowing that, you will be closer than I ever was. Have the confidence to proceed. I look forward to your progress."

Renkyk jolted out of his chair, scraping against the floor. Dastov stood up and leaned down toward Renkyk.

"That sounded productive," the commander smiled.

Tingling with excitement, Renkyk smiled back.

"I understand it now. At least a lot more than I did before. Enough to go forward.”