Ranvir directly entered his Fundament without passing through tether-space, not that there was much left of the ruin of his once power. It hung like the dilapidated remains of a once glorious fortress battered and ravaged by the knifing winds that ruptured through the storm seething in Ranvir’s spirit, swirling around the center of his Fundament.

Right where Ranvir now perceived himself, where all the cracks in the pale stone led to. Another being intruded on the space, then. At first, Kasos’ appearance was little more than a protuberance in the clouds, but soon they parted, revealing not a man but a being of shadow and water. It only held the vaguest of humanoid shapes with the only recognizable detail being Kasos tail whipping in the rush.

“Remember Ranvir,” the words intruded on his mind and spirit, “This is just a test. What’s more important is you being honest and accurately assessing your capabilities.”

Ranvir nodded and reached out towards Kasos. The blobby form lifted one arm as he stepped closer to the Fundament, though careful to never actually step on it. Color and shape bled first from the fingers, then the entire hand, turning into an inconspicuous white orb. Ranvir could hardly detect anything from it.

Carefully, he stepped to the edge of the remains of his Fundament and reached out for the orb. If Kasos touched the stone, he’d likely break it and instantly kill Ranvir, however, if Ranvir fell off then he would lose his self in the cracks leading out of his spirit and his body would soon die.

Still, it wasn’t a great distance to reach.

Grabbing the ball of indistinct white, it sent a shock through Ranvir’s arm, up his shoulder, through his neck and into his brain, where it lodged itself by spitting itself with a tent spike.

Staggering back, Ranvir fell to a knee as he struggled with the immense force he was holding in his grip. He was used to working with energy—or mana; he supposed—this power was a magnitude greater and scorched his bones rather than simply weakening them.

Gritting his teeth and driving his focus away from the pain, Ranvir saw a patch of the storm that suddenly held still, the edges blurry and ephemeral, but the core remained, despite the storm trying to cut it down.

Persist, he growled and drove his Concept, what remained of it, into the orb. It gained a faint gray of storm clouds mimicking the state of his spirit, but with a tint of thin space-purple over it. Hissing out a breath, Ranvir took in the power. He felt the pain snap at him, try to destroy him, but he pushed it back. Dragging the spike of pain out of his head, Ranvir forced the line of power trying to overcome him down into the orb, forcing it to come entirely still. Slowly, the tainted gray of clouds faded, leaving only the purple.

Then he shoved it into his Fundament, welding together one of the cracks. Purple energy seeping in and sealing over. Ranvir let out a sigh of relief and shook himself. Inside his mind, he didn’t feel so infirm. He didn’t feel like his body had broken and abandoned him. He didn’t feel like an invalid, forced to get around like a man five times his age.

Kasos had gone the moment he’d handed Ranvir the power, and he was alone once more. Above him, the cloud still churned and the wind hissed angrily. Another few bricks fell from his tether-space. Closing his eyes, Ranvir made himself leave the space and return to his body.

Aches, pains, and discomfort filled him as he groaned back to awareness. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pushing weakly against the chair arms but getting nowhere.

“Any reason we cannot do this in my bed?” Ranvir asked.

“Yes actually,” Kasos said sounding way careless, “If you’re stuck in your bed all day, there’s a high chance that it’ll affect your mood negatively. Your mood and behavior are directly related to the state of your Fundament. When you feel like you’re struggling in your bed, with the blinds closed listening to the kids through your window, your Fundament will grow sluggish, thick, and choking. Working with it gets harder. When you’re trying very hard, determined, and even braced for pain, your Fundament will be tough and tight easier to work with.”

Ranvir frowned but as he thought it through he found a sort of sense to the old man’s words, “I guess that makes some minuscule amount of sense,” adding the last word for emphasis but also because he’d just learned it last night.

“Of course it does. Me and a few of my colleagues have been studying the Fundament and its secrets for decades,” Kasos replied. “That isn’t to say that you shouldn’t rest. If you aren’t careful, it might become so hard it turns brittle, which has its own issues, much like one that is too soft.”

“So how do you tell when your Fundament is just right?”

“You feel good.”

“Oh.”

Kasos shrugged, “So how did that feel? How difficult was it?”

“The shock of it was the hardest,” Ranvir replied, rolling his shoulder an afterimage of the writhing pain traveling up his arm returning to him.

“How difficult would you say the Anima, the power, was to work?”

“It was mostly the shock of feeling it at first,” Ranvir replied, nodding to himself as he recalled fighting it down. “Once I’d gotten a hold of myself, it came down pretty easily.”

“Are you sure?” Kasos said, “Because if that is the case, then you’re theoretically ready to move on to the next stage.”

“And that is?” Ranvir asked.

“Fixing your Fundament.”

Ranvir’s heart skipped a beat. “Already?” He shook his head, looking around the small room off the main hall of the orphanage. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

Kasos grew more serious. “I need to know that you’re taking this seriously. This cannot be rushed. The amount of Anima you would need to patch up your Fundament, properly at least, will have to be handed over at once. If it’s too much and you can’t handle it,” their eyes met, muddled purple-brown and dark blue, “then it will wash you away with the tide. There will be no recovering from it.”

Ranvir swallowed, “Got it,” he nodded once, “It’s life or death.”

Kasos nodded, “Life or your daughter will spend the rest of her childhood in the orphanage properly.”

The words fell like a band of iron over Ranvir’s chest and he realized Kasos was right. Maybe it would be better to wait? Maybe he shouldn’t go ahead immediately, because he didn’t want to wither in his room any longer…

But no, he’d been honest. The burden of the Second Order power had been shocking but not overwhelming.

“I’ll need a few minutes to prepare myself,” Ranvir replied, crafting in his mind the supplies that he lacked in real life. The obsidian circle came first, then candles arranged along the four corners of the room.

Amalia spread a net of her soul-sight ahead of her as she slipped into her grandmother’s house. The net was carried on her shadow and water mana, buoyed to examine each gathering of either throughout the entire grounds. She recognized Ione out in the back working with her plants, while they had water a plenty from the Rafting.

But someone else caught her attention. She first sensed the glass of water in the library, but then the mana within the person vibrated in response to her net. An echo of her own power.

Uncle Kasos! Amalia realized excitedly. She hadn’t seen her uncle in a decade, if not longer, eleven years. It had been during her trials for entering the Sentinels. Grinning, she began up the stairs, dropping off her weapons and pack in her room.

She opened the door slowly, hoping to sneak up on him. Unsurprisingly, he was already looking before she even peaked around the door.

“Hello,” Uncle Kasos said gently. His voice as old and rough as always.

“Uncle Kasos,” Amalia replied, smiling and pushed the door all the way open. “What are you doing in the library?”

“Come here, child,” Kasos said, getting up from the table and spreading his arms wide. She hugged him back briefly before pushing her out to arm’s length. “It’s been too long. Last time I saw you, you were still in pig-tails.”

Amalia snorted a laugh and shrugged his hands off her. “It hasn’t been that long. I haven’t worn pig tails since I was ten.”

“I swear I remember something, though.”

“That’s because you always take so long between visits,” Amalia accused, though she blunted it with a smile.

“I know,” Kasos sighed, “Work keeps me busty.”

“So…” Amalia said, sitting down opposite him and pulling one of the books he’d been looking at over. “What are you doing?”

“Research,” Kasos said with a sigh.

“On?”

“Nosy kids that try too hard to get into other people’s business.”

Amalia raised an eyebrow at him, “I’m twenty-nine, I’m not really a kid any longer.”

Kasos looked at her for a long time, the silence stretching between them as he tapped a manicured fingernail against the paper before him, “I guess not,” he glance down briefly, “I’m revisiting my two-week plan for stabilizing Ranvir, as well as doing some checking in with some of my colleagues research.”

“Why?”

“Some of my estimates have been a little, minor really, bit off.”

Amalia’s breath caught, “How far off?” she asked, not ready to hear about another death.

“About thirteen days,” Kasos said as he folded the papers with Ranvir’s schedule together before holding a corner to the candle flame and dramatically letting them go up in flames.