Magic pulsed through Aclysia. Magic pulsed through the world around her. Magic pulsed through the magical circuitry. Each pulse was another beat of her magic cortex. Although hers did not consist of collagen, bone, proteins and such biological matter, it did still exist. It was responsible not just for the circulation of the mana to use for spells but also the divine energy that animated her.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled all magic out of the air around her that she could. It was the simplest trick all mages employed, to use what the Leaf provided to supplement their own mana reserves. Some relied more on this, Druids and Shamans, some less, Mages and Sorcerers, yet all treasured the option, for it buffered their resources a little bit. As a Priest, Aclysia struck a balance between what she took from the Omniverse and what she provided herself. That was only right.

The magic from the outside mingled with magic on the inside, concentrated in the breath that she held deep in her lungs. ‘More,’ she urged herself, when the sensation of holding the magic became straining. ‘Not… yet…’ The power was compressed into a smaller and smaller point. It wished to expand and Aclysia wished for it not to expand yet. Unable to think a word, she just strained herself against the boundaries of her magic until, finally, she could hold on no longer.

An explosion of vitality washed first through her body, then exploded from her skin in a wave of golden light. It rippled outwards, a nova of glorious golden sunlight. Two metres out, it began to disperse into individual rays, which continued, weakly for a little while longer. Left behind was Aclysia, heavily breathing.

As a being of magic, straining her magical circuits immensely had actual effects on her stamina. Suddenly, she felt weak. Her legs threatened to give in once, twice, and the third time she just let them. Before her knees could collide with the forest floor, a muscular arm slung around her narrow waist and effortlessly raised her up.

“My eternal gratitude, darling,” Aclysia whispered, looking up to Apexus’ face. Her man was carrying her in his arms to a nearby rock. Once he was seated, she got a little more comfortable in his lap, nuzzling against his broad chest. Her wings fluttered as much as her life beat. Where their skin touched, his magic flowed inside her, willingly presented from one creation of the Omniverse to an angel of its gods.

Inlaid in this very action was the knowledge that, whatever Apexus truly was, whatever mystery lay behind the spark that had allowed him to come into existence, he was part of creation. He was sapient. Even if he lacked a Divine Spark, he was nothing to be afraid of. Those gentle hands on her, they did not deserve to be hunted.

Apexus held the metal fairy, the first person he had ever known, recalling their long journey together as he often did, only to forego all the good and bad memories. It didn’t matter when she had spoken naively or when he had acted without thought, what mattered was that they were there right now. She gave him the only thing he truly needed from her: a loving gaze, that said more than any words could ever convey. Proof that they would face whatever came, together.

They sat together in silence, thoughts as calm as the night they shared. The cold, moist air bothered neither of them. An earthy smell hung in the air. Pitter-patter fell the rain, a little sprinkle, nothing more. An angel and a slime, the weather left them as they were. Heat and comfort could both be found inside and with each other.

Apexus ran his hand through her hair. Steady and strong, the rhythm held, guided by her humming. The fairy sang, with a wordless voice, as she took the power of the humanoid chimera. The light above shone bright. Nothing mattered, no demon, no other plight, at this very time.

“Did you get what you needed?” Apexus asked, when the drain of magic ebbed away.

“Yes,” the fairy confirmed, departing hesitantly.

As Pronthin had analysed, the casting of the Healing Nova proved immensely taxing on Aclysia. The first couple of times had seen her collapse outright. Had she not trained her mana reservoir accordingly, she may have suffered the same kind of internal damage that had made her body uninhabitable all the way back when she had saved Apexus from the eagle. How odd it was, to consider that such an animal once threatened them.

Where Mehily could entirely rely on her internal mana regeneration to restore her reserves, Aclysia either had to eat or to take tribute from another sapient being. Technically, needing to eat to restore mana was something that both Priests shared, the difference was just that Mehily needed sustenance to survive in general. Their particular choice of diet was also different. An angel could sustain themselves on anything that did or had contained life. To that end, fresh fruits and other vegetation were typically the best. Eating raw, freshly slaughtered animals did also work, but was typically a hassle, an inelegance, and a taking of a life that the angel was not entirely comfortable with.

Of course, she was aware that taking the energy from Apexus just removed her one step from such primal and necessary behaviour. The humanoid chimera hunted and devoured. What energy he stored from that, she was offered her cut of. In that arrangement, Aclysia got away with clean hands. She took great care to remind herself that she was still involved in the spoils of a hunt or the slaughter of cattle. Acts that she had to mentally be ready to enact herself.

Reysha often called her entitled. Even if jokingly, she had a point, and Aclysia knew that. Such criticism had to be taken to Spark. Least she could do was to not delude herself so far that, when it was her turn to swing the proverbial knife, that she couldn’t go through the act of killing because she lied to herself. Her hands were clean. Her being was necessarily as stained with blood as the rest of ever-competing creation.

Aclysia stood back on her feet, now concentrating on her hand. She closed her eyes and made a hollow fist. Whenever she had recharged after casting the Healing Nova, she attempted to cast Sunlight Lances. Whenever she had recharged from that, she reversed back to the Novas. Back and forth.

While she concentrated on the mana inside her, Apexus walked to an already half devoured tree. Only a few thin branches and a thick trunk were left. A flat palm, he drew his hand back. Rapidly, he lashed out. The flat hand smacked against the bark and bounced back, skin unharmed. Wood splintered moments later, ripples of energy cracking the surface and waving the softer inside.

The Rippling Palm, a technique designed to deal damage primarily against armoured opponents, was well practiced on trees. The difference between bark and wood was not as extreme as steel and flesh, yet the principle applied. As for non-armoured opponents, Monks rarely learned specific moves against them early on. An Ironskin punch to the gut usually did the trick.

With the surface broken, Apexus rammed his fingers into the wood, his skin the colour of polished iron, and tore out chunk after chunk of wood. Without chewing, he swallowed them all, letting his stomach acid dissolve it all in no time. The tree found its continuation within him, in its own way. Had it been the day, forming chloroplasts to feast on the sun could have been an option.

Aclysia still had her eyes closed and focused. To send mana out spiralling was more difficult than one would bargain for, much like it was immensely difficult to throw a ball with proper spin. Unseen by anybody, vaguely felt by Apexus, the metal fairy bled magical energy into the environment. The incorrectly curved paths of mana failed to meet at a consistent point, thus not creating the barrier of movement required to even start approaching the critical mass of magic.

Offensive magic like this had never come to her as easily as healing magic. Aclysia did not feel motivated the same way, to master spells that would destroy her opponents, rather than aid her allies. All she could tell herself, to keep her spirits high, was that prevention was better than treatment.

For a moment, she discontinued her efforts, to start again when her mind was a little clearer. The crunching of wood in the background was distracting. Aclysia did her best to blend it out. Combat had many more distracting elements, worries, and dangers. That she wasn’t getting beaten to a pulp while training was its own blessing, as Reysha’s daily marks of combat proved. Aclysia shoved those memories away, before anger could ruin her concentration.

Taking a deep breath, she put her hands together and sent a prayer to whatever god may listen. None of them needed to. The gesture was for herself, a ritual, a reminder that she had a service to render to the greater wills of the worlds. She parted her hands and slowly moved her right hand upwards, drawing it back as if she was ready to throw a javelin. Her fingers moved into the required position.

Magic flowed, whirling out of her palm. It felt right. She noticed that it felt right. She tried to grasp at that feeling. Tried to understand, in every detail, what she was doing. The mana flashed and then fizzled.

“Ahrhrgrrrrmhmhrrrm,” Aclysia let out an incomprehensible, annoyed noise. ‘Stop overthinking!’ she chastised herself. If she had just let it happen, it would have. ‘Your constant attempts to comprehend will be your undoing, Aclysia!’

Strong arms wrapped wordlessly around her. Apexus held her, providing her with something much greater than his mana. Standing there, they swayed left to right, almost dancing. The moonlight and the forest were their stage. They took the parts of lovers and none could have doubted their embodiment of the archetype.

Apexus placed a kiss on the top of her head, then let go. Whirling around, Aclysia hovered up to his face, claiming his lips before he left her to practice again. It was a quick one, full of need for more and acceptance for the constraints of time. They departed, to eat and to practice again.

Settled on the forest floor, Aclysia prayed once more. Reigning in her thoughts, she tried to do as Reysha did and learned by instinct before she comprehended actively. Mana flowed. An arm was raised. The swirls of invisible energy hummed for the few with the senses to notice. Then, it was visible for all. A flash and heat and then new light, a spear that glowed brighter and brighter. Calm mind and quiet thoughts, Aclysia drew her arm back completely and then tossed the Sunlight Lance.

Long before it hit its target, the magic destabilized. What appeared solid at first crackled and wavered. Mana leaked into the air, leaving trails of misty light that uselessly dispersed. Only a little burst of heat and force occurred on the bark of her target, not even enough to scorch the surface of the tree.

Yet still, the metal fairy drew in a breath of relief. “Progress,” she whispered. Eleven days of constant tries and finally she had managed to keep one Sunlight Lance stable enough to throw. Inside, she wrestled for a moment, then she decided to turn around and get herself a reward. “Darling,” she said sweetly.

Apexus stared at her, stoically blank-faced. Not a tell for any of his emotions, especially not these days. Even when he was difficult to read, the metal fairy felt what went along behind that mask. She had known him too long not to know. Those stiff shoulders, that total inertness, she pouted already at what she had not yet heard.

The way she slightly pushed her lower lip out compromised Apexus’ resolve more than a two day fast. Personal discipline wrestled with the want to embrace her. Adorably, she put her arms behind her back. She bent forwards slightly, making herself even smaller in front of him. Big green eyes, hidden in short moments by cutesy blinks, focused his face.

What the angel had figured out, what the acting in her nature allowed her to emulate, was that exact look that any woman could give their loved ones to get anything they could provide. In that moment, it would not have mattered if she wanted him to praise her or for him to gather the resources to build an empire. The only difference would have been the time required to deliver her what she wanted. Such was the sway of Aclysia over her man’s fate, a power he had invested her with. Not necessarily of his volition, love was such a complicated affair, and yet he would not dream to take it from her.

Even as he embraced her again, he did have the need to tell her, “You should not crave compliments and breaks for every success. We must keep improving.”

“I know, darling,” Aclysia giggled, incapable of pretending she was not enjoying this too much for her guilt to matter. “I know.”

Fingers combed her hair. Her forehead rested on his chest. They remembered harder times. Apexus looked up to the moon. “It is a beautiful world.”