Frija slapped a chubby hand down on the picture Ranvir pointed at, she babbled meaninglessly leaning against him for support to sit upright. He marveled at how far she’d come since those first few months, even as he gently held her torso to keep from tumbling over, though he hardly had to support her much anymore.

Which was great because his ribs still throbbed occasionally when he moved too fast or carelessly. Just a week of the doctor’s medicine had truly helped him recover much, even if the first three days had been utter and total misery just as the man had said.

“That’s right, Frija,” Ranvir said pointing at the figure wrapped in cloak of shadows with pinpricks of light in it, “That’s Nysea,” he trailed a finger to the opposite end of the rigid page to the other drawing of a man made of bronze and reflected light, “And that’s her husband,” Ranvir frowned reaching for the name. He’d learned of him in his Fiyan lessons, “Apisaon.”

The page was dotted with largely illegible scribbles as the two characters spoke to each other. That said he did recognize a few of the symbols already and he could even put together a phrase or two in the children’s book. Children’s book. That concept was almost more marvelous than him learning not just a foreign language but a language completely alien to Vednar. Unlike regular books these were made of a far thicker and stiffer paper, with big colorful drawings on the page.

Ranvir could parse the occasional word, but he couldn’t really retell the story as it was. Amalia had, however, told him the story in their lesson yesterday, so even if he didn’t know the specifics he knew the general contents. And he didn’t think Frija really understood anything he said so he could mostly just make it up.

“They saw how empty the worldshard was,” Ranvir said as he paged through book, “Apisaon had long wanted to create something truly alive, but for once in his life he couldn’t manage it on his own. With the help of his wife, they created the entirety of Korfyi,” the page displayed Apisaon rending into existence an entire plane, or worldshard as Amalia called it. The next picture showed Apisaon traveling through the world and seeing it empty and desolate, “Or maybe he was able to create the world on his own but was unable to fill it with life,” Ranvir muttered in correction as Frija babbled tried to grab at the pages.

Lightly assisting her, Ranvir found to his chagrin that the bronze man had gone to the Nysea and got her help to fill out the world. Frija continued making happy noises as they skimmed over a few sections where the woman cloaked in night filled the world with life, before retreating with her husband to the sky and observe their work.

Ranvir continued ‘reading’ the book to his daughter as it introduced the god children, who filled the world with substance. Ranvir wasn’t as sure of the stories behind these gods, though he’d gathered the boy god was called Paios and was a bit of a trickster. As he grew less sure of the story it became more of Frija appreciating the vivid imagery and him muttering words that were at best tangentially related to the tale.

They played a little in the padded room where Frija spent most of her days, before she got tired and started falling asleep. Ranvir carefully, both for his daughter and his ribs’ sake, put her in the crib in the corner. Stroking her red hair gently, he smiled at how soundly she slept. He’d worried she’d be more disturbed over the events of the last week, but she seemed completely unperturbed.

Getting to his feet with a slight wince for his ribs, Ranvir headed out of the room, leaving the door cracked. He was on the second floor of Ione’s manor which thankfully meant he didn’t have to climb any stairs to see Pashar, at least if he’d timed it right.

Walking down the hall, Ranvir stopped in front of the door to the library. It didn’t really compare to the academy’s library, this was little more than the size of two bedrooms stocked with shelves so thickly that you sometimes had to edge by sideways to get through. It was still a lot better than he could’ve possibly hoped for. Far more books than Ranvir’d ever seen a single person own, though he wondered if Dovar’s family might have a similar stock.

Small pedestal were regularly distributed through the halls of the manor, holding various items of art or fancy. One such stood next to the library door holding a mirror of polished bronze. Looking down onto his reflection, Ranvir winced at what he found. Even through the distortion of the metal’s color he was pale, even more noticeable was his eyes.

Before the academy they’d been brown much like his mother’s, but after getting blinded they’d grown slightly paler in color. They’d changed once more after he’d meddled with his tether. They weren’t really brown any longer, nor did they mirror the ankirian royalty’s bright almost glowing yellow. Instead they were a muddied middle spot between the bright and vivid purple space and his previous faded brown. Not to mention that one of his pupils still looked like a teardrop was escaping into the iris.

Frowning in concentration, Ranvir touched on the power in the center of his chest. For a few seconds his eyes brightened into a more vivid almost glowing purple before fading again as his grip on tether-space fell away.

Ranvir pushed the door open a little too hard, his ribs protesting at the sudden shove. The door slammed shut behind him shutting away the mirror without pushing a worrisome truth away.

Inside the library, Ranvir found Pashar at the only table in the entire space. She looked up from her notes. Having just finished her own lesson in Fiyan, Ranvir knew she would be reviewing. Pashar took to the language far easier and faster than Ranvir and not just because she studied more.

She claimed her previous experience with languages helped immensely. Ranvir hadn’t realized but she spoke more than half the languages of the alliance, including all the major ones. According to her, Fiyan and Vargin wasn’t that far apart in structure.

“You’re done early,” she remarked as he pulled out a chair opposite her.

“I have a problem,” he said immediately, forcing himself to push through. Pashar’s posture stiffened and her gaze grew more attentive. Ranvir continued before she could inquire further on her own, “My powers are failing.”

Pashar’s brows furrowed, “Failing?”

Ranvir swallowed hard, “Yesterday I failed as much as I succeeded in entering tether-space and I can’t hold on to it for more than a few minutes,” he gave her a questioning look, trying to hide the nervous quivering mass of dark blue, purple, and black fear that seemed to lurk behind his collarbone.

She raised a finger smoke swirling a trail behind it, “My powers are normal, still there. Just as accessible,” her face grew more worried. “Could this be related to your eyes?”

“It’s probably caused by the same thing,” Ranvir worried at his lower lip. “What do we do?”

Pashar raised a hand, “Let me take a look,” she sat still for a while as she extended her tether-sense, presumably. Ranvir tried a few times to open his tether-space, even pushing against his chest like they’d been taught in the beginning but nothing helped. It was agonizing to sit there and not know what she was sensing. Finally, she took in a deep breath and leaned back in her seat, “Your native presence in almost entirely insubstantial. Most second-stage tethered could probably push right through it.”

“What does that mean?” Ranvir whispered his voice shaking as vivid strangler vines of a darker more sinister purple spread from the quivering mass, choking whatever they could grasp in hollow fear.

“I’m not sure,” Pashar replied. “I’ve never seen or even heard of something like this, except from dying people,” she winced like she was chewing on something really bitter, “I think we should ask Ione. From what I’ve been able to gather they’re more advanced in their understanding of the spirit here.”

Ranvir hesitantly nodded and Pashar went to fetch the old woman. It only took a few minutes while he mindlessly toyed with the grains on the table. Looking up as he heard them enter the library, he was unsurprised to find Amalia had come along as well. Ione’s earring was glowing gray again.

Ranvir dismissed the notion to further discover her powers from his mind, not the time and place.

“Pashar tells me you’re losing your powers,” Ione said as she sat down next to him.

Ranvir nodded slowly, looking away.

“Let me take a look at you?” The old woman asked even though she was already reaching for him. Before he could reply, Ranvir felt an involuntary shiver run through him, causing him to gasp as the old woman did something. Ione grunted low in her throat as the shivers intensified. Ranvir had to close his eyes and force himself not to pull away from her.

Finally, the sensation quelled and the old woman pulled away, “That’s worrisome,” she muttered.

“What is, Grandmother?”

“His spirit has more holes in it than a kortian den.”

Ranvir didn’t understand the reference, not fully, but from the way Amalia winced at the analogy he could only assume they had a lot of holes.

“Should we call Uncle Kasos?” Amalia asked eying Ranvir worriedly.

“That might be for the best, though I’m not sure even you could pull him away from the Panaton.”

Amalia grunted, “You know he loves a good puzzle,” she nodded towards Ranvir, “If he’s as poorly off as you say, then we just need a spirit imprint and Kasos will be running here.”

“That’s assuming Ranvir will make it to Crotenus with enough strength to leave an imprint,” Ione replied, “Though…” she got up from her chair and waddled in between the shelves. Ranvir watched with anxious eyes, the vines creeping within him spreading its hold. Ione appeared from one of the shelves, already shifting through the pages of the book in her hands, “This might help.”