> Isla said. She gestured to her diaphragm. > The heiress did so, pulling a deep draw of air through the Sunken Ward. Part of Isla marveled at that spell, though it was a simple enough working; the spell essentially generated sheathes of air Mana to circulate around and between targets that the boy chose. Remarkable was the fact that Felix could maintain such a spell for so many and as long as he had, even on the two of them, who had retreated some three hundred strides from their cavern. Remarkable and terrifying. To have such deep wells of Mana within him...how is it possible? Isla had long known that the Unbound were not subject to the same System enforced restrictions as others. When the summoning was still a whisper among the Hierocracy, she and her sisters had delved into ancient records that hadn't been perused in centuries, digging up every fact, rumor, myth, and legend they could find. Among those living, Isla considered herself a premier scholar on all things Unbound...and she found herself stymied by them, time and time again. > the girl asked, eyes still closed as she breathed. > > > The Chanter swiped her hand through the water, sending ripples of force splashing into Vess. The girl gasped before blinking at Isla in surprise. > Vess squared her shoulders and inclined her head—every span of her an echo of the duchess she would one day become. > > The heiress went back into it, beginning with the visualization exercises Isla had laid out. The process for Temper recomposition was not a simple one, and it was—at best—an extremely dangerous task. Luckily for the girl, Isla had specialized in healing for a very long time, and her expertise had led her down numerous experimental roads. The Chanter supposed that there were others capable of guiding one through a Temper recomposition, but none of them were trustworthy. Exposing one's core space was both extremely personal and dangerous, after all. Isla considered the girl once more, eyeing the flow of Mana through her channels and her deep, steady breathing. As dangerous as the process was, it required utter conviction in the subject. Without conviction, the endeavor would fail and reconstituting her original Path would become impossible. Temper recomposition was exactly what it sounded like, reverting pieces of your Aspects to a previous state to reclaim where your formations went awry. Typically it was done to back someone off an unwisely chosen Skill, a sort of extreme version of sundering a Skill. The difference from the frankly crude sundering process was that the Skill would not be lost, simply reverted. Still, Vess' situation was unique. Her Skills did not evolve through her own actions, but that of another. A foreign Intent was tangled among her core space, visible to those with the senses to see, and it was unnerving to see how deep it had spread. This "Tier IV Link" that the girl bore was new and strange to the Chanter, but its effect was obvious. With every Skill level gained, Vess would be bound further to her new Path...and the Unbound boy as well. Isla drove a sharp breath from her nose, irritation followed close by fascination. She had made a deal with Felix for information on his Earthly origins—truly a silly name for a land—but they had not yet had time to speak. With Zara unwilling to divulge his secrets, Isla had been forced to take matters into her own hands. She was still surprised that he had come to her for aid, but was pleased that he agreed to her request. Knowledge was what she needed most of all, and perhaps with more details she would finally have a handle on the fledgling ruler's nature and motivations. Understand, so that they might be managed. A light hand compared to the slavery of the Hierocracy. Isla steadied her breathing again. She could not risk the Unbound turning against the Continent. Isla had spent too much time researching their histories to underestimate the danger they posed individually, let alone as a group. If the Unbound could not be corralled, they could prove to be just as devastating as the Ruin itself. She already had Michael in hand when she first encountered Felix. The boy had listened to her, heeded her wisdom...but that, too, had changed. Now the child was following Felix around like a lost hound, aping the would-be king's training. Felix was even influencing Michael's Skills, teaching him brand new ones and pushing Michael into a punishing regimen. It had not missed Isla's attention that Michael was growing far faster in Felix's presence, too. Had he established a "Link" with the Autarch, as well? Michael denied it, but his rapid growth needed an explanation. Or is it simply the strange aura that Felix seems to exude? The one that affected the fates of hundreds of his soldiers with his mere presence. Zara had downplayed the enormity of it when she'd spoken to Felix of the phenomena. It wasn't just rare for someone to unlock their Harmonic stats, it was nigh impossible, especially for those of such...simple origins. Isla was not a pagewright, toiling in their towers with their numbers and their aborted attempts at the etheric arts. She was a Chanter, a Sorcerer. A healer steeped in the Grand Harmony. The Chant enhanced one's capabilities, whatever they were, offering a direct tapping into the greater mysteries of Creation. If what Felix was doing could be replicated...it would ignite a paradigm shift on the Continent. A handful of peasants with their Harmonic stats unlocked had the potential to overturn nations, if given the right guidance. What would happen if there was an entire Territory of such people? What could the Cantus Sodalus achieve, then? Yet another reason to hold tight to these children. Felix cannot guide such a kingdom alone. Ripples through the water all around them alerted Isla to Felix's approach only a heartbeat before he arrived in a burst of bubbles. He kicked into the room, passing through the narrow aperture of their ravine with enviable grace and speed. He came to an abrupt halt so as not to bowl them both over, but the pressure of his approach hit Isla and Vess like an invisible pillow the size of a wagon bed. The both of them braced, but skidded backward an entire stride. Felix looked to the girl. > > the girl said, and there was a coldness in her tone that Isla had not heard before. Not directed at the fledgling Autarch. That was interesting. Almost as interesting as the manner in which he was baring his Spirit, something he usually kept tight control over. > Relief was evident in his Spirit, but her show was over. Felix cleared his throat, and his Spirit was pulled tight and veiled once more. > > The girl stood up at Isla's gracious nod, and swept back down the thin canyon, toward their group. She didn't even glance at Felix. > she asked. He ignored the question. > Isla raised an eyebrow. > > > The young man turned to her, exasperation clear on his face if not his Spirit. > > > He paused, clearly unsure what to do with the righteous anger she'd just cut short. Then the boy surprised her. > Isla stood. > > There it was, the anger's return. Isla shook her head. > Felix's nostrils flared. She doubted she would have been surprised to see the water boil around him. > Isla picked up her satchel and slung it across her chest, making sure to carefully adjust her robes. She didn't answer. > he demanded. > Isla kicked forward, floating across the narrow ravine toward the exit. Felix interposed himself, hand out. > The Chanter pursed her mouth. > She swept past him, moving through the water like a fish by virtue of Skill and stat. Felix did not stop her, though Isla could sense he wanted to; that frustrated rage had pushed against the boundary of his control, and it was clear he wanted to make use of it. Yet he didn't. Good, she thought, as the ravine closed around her. That boy needs to learn to heel. Pit swam up to him the moment Felix returned to the group. What's going on? You're angry. Felix patted his friend atop his metal barding, the sound of scales on metal dull in the water. I'm fine. Just an argument. His Companion gave him a long, disbelieving look but didn't pry. Are we leaving now? Immediately. The War Naga were up and about, their bulky Bodies twisting in the waves in what looked like warm-up exercises. Pit advised him that they were still a bit tired, but more than ready for the trip ahead. Felix quickly got everyone organized on their respective Nagas, weaving more saddles out of plants so that everyone could sit securely. Other than Beef and Hallow, there was little conversation going on beside affirming grunts. When everything was set, Felix turned to the leader of their guides. > The massive War Naga pointed, up and out of the gorge they'd hidden within. > > Vess asked. She didn't meet Felix's quick glance. > > Toa'ut said. Cheery, Pit muttered. > > Felix said. > The Naga were by far the better swimmers than the majority of his team, and riding atop the serpentine warriors had been their own idea to speed up their journey. Now that they were out of the vortexes and he no longer needed to maintain an array, Felix had no intention of riding as the rest. As the others strapped themselves down to the serpentine backs, Felix kicked off, just behind Toa'ut so the guy could lead the way. They skimmed the tops of the ravines, high enough that they could spot approaching threats but low enough that a quick dive into the greenery was possible. It was long and boring and filled with several false alarms, leading to them hiding for several minutes from what amounted to a very large fish. At the very least, however, it afforded Felix time to think. Skill Arrays. That had been the topic he'd focused upon. If he could get strong enough, combine enough Skills, then he could take on the Fathom directly. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he couldn't stop Vess from altering her core, but he could try to keep her from hurting herself needlessly. With one Skill array down, Felix plotted out his next. As the hours passed, the way ahead deepened. The greenery spread as the trenches widened and dropped, the water around them growing murkier with every mile. The walls of the ravines thinned, but in some cases they rose higher, until they formed spires of improbable, water-smoothed shapes. Often plant-life would festoon these spires, turning them into flags of fronds that whipped in the direction of the shifting currents, and provided food for a bevy of smaller creatures. Fish, crustaceans, mollusk-looking things, and more filled the trenches and the waters near the spires. If nothing else, they were an excellent cover for the team's approach. Which was needed, because as the fifth hour passed, Toa'ut informed them they had finally reached the true outskirts of Khasma. It was swarming with pockets of Fathom spawn. Schools of Hatchlings and Amphitere swarmed through the waters. Many of them chased the silver glitter of prey, and others swam in wide, convoluted paths that the War Naga identified as a patrol. They had immediately hid upon seeing the first group, and Toa'ut informed them that moving would be slower going. Too fast, too careless, and they'd get spotted and bring down a whole swarm. > Felix said. They were in distinct pockets, moving in groups of only two dozen or so, which made things a bit easier. Green Shaping! Soundlessly, the patrol was immediately caught up in nets of knotted tangleweed. Felix pulled back, altering the Intent he threaded through his Affinity as his Resonance shook across his Skills. The tangleweed dropped, shaped back toward their group, until the still-alive spawn thrashed before his team. The spawns' mouths were bound with sharp nettles, screams and bugles of alarm throttled as they trembled with restrained madness and fury. > Rime Shaping! Felix gestured, his Intent now woven through a second Skill. Spears of ice flash froze the restrained monsters, stabbing through each of their chests with a sudden, terrible finality. You Have Killed A Fathom Hatchling (x13)! You Have Killed A Fathom Amphitere (x13)! XP Earned! >