“Oh wow, you really did come quick, you must’ve been close by.” The man smiled, as he opened the door.

Zeb gave him a good once over from behind her fake thick rimmed glasses. He was a typical coastal Water twin male with smooth dark skin and beautiful round dark brown eyes. His black hair was even braided in the traditional way of these parts, but all the Lieutenant could think about was the shamelessness with which he wore his head uncovered and the unkempt state of the hallway behind him with all the toys strewn about the floor, no doubt belonging to the small boy who hung from the man’s side like a leech. “Focus on the infidel’s words, not his appearance”, Zeb chided herself and forced her lips to curve into a convincing semblance of a friendly smile.

“I came as fast as I could, of course.” She said. “A story like yours is hard to miss, my lord.”

“Oh, please, no need for formalities, come on in, I have prepared some light refreshments for us in the dining room.”

The man ushered her through the messy corridor and into a cozy, yet spacious meal room. On the corner of the large table which was furthest from the entrance sat a young water lady, focused on her portable terminal. There was a glint of blue when she raised her head and focused on the earth woman’s distinct South-Magmalian features, but her husband motioned for her to relax.

“That’s the journalist I was telling you about, honey.” The man explained. “The one who wanted to write about the windstorm lady who died.”

The water lady’s face shook some remnants of her initial suspicion and tension and she flashed the newcomer a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Ah, right, of course - come in, come in. Welcome to our home - my name is Kitara Amazz, but you can call me Maz. “ She turned to her husband. “Hali over here was the prime witness, but I also saw her take Flight. We owe this windstorm a debt of gratitude for saving our son’s life, so we will do anything to help clear her name.”

Zeb suppressed the grimace which was attempting to twist her features. Of course all the infidels in AWA looked down on her people for their conservative views, so she had to pick her words carefully. Pretending to be a journalist interested in writing about Aeris Tan and the truth about her Gifted status would only get her foot in the door, the main point was to convince this Water-twin couple that she was a fully integrated South-Magmalian immigrant who had embraced this decadent society’s so called values of misplaced tolerance towards the weak.

“But of course you do not mean to imply that not being Gifted is somehow a smear on someone’s name?” Zeb feigned a shocked expression. “One who is not Gifted is by no means lesser than one who is, don’t you agree?”

“Oh, of course not.” Amazz was quick to correct herself. “I misspoke, I should’ve said that we should clear the facts. That is why you are here, lady…”

“Shu’jayra Birmal” Zeb lied with all the confidence of a seasoned social engineer. “You are correct. The facts are all we at the Syfis Sentinel care about. Surely proclaiming the late, great Aeris Tan as Giftless must’ve been a terrible bureaucratic oversight on the part of the Ruling over sea’s administration. Your story will help us set things straight.”

“Of course, there must have been some mistake.” Hali interjected and it took all of Zeb’s dwindling self-control not to snap at him to know his place when women spoke. “Please, have a seat, lady Shu’jayra, I will tell you everything I saw. I have to say, most of it was almost surreal - it’s been at least a decade since I’ve seen a windstorm in action. Such grace, such speed and power, oh by the Goddess, she was like a hero of old folktales…”

Zeb took one of the nearby chairs and steeled herself for the verbal onslaught the water male was subjecting her to. Oh, Prophet, grant me Thy strength, does he not even pause to take a breath?

******************************

The feast had been going on for some time now and there was still no sign of Wint and Master Lee’s family. Mali felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, as he looked over to where the young fire tribe boy was sitting between two of the newly sworn shamans. He had tried to approach the teenager during their journey, of course, but he was always either with the Giftless girl or Wint was watching over him like a hawk. Neither of them were around now, so it looked like the Goddess had rewarded his patience. He took a glass of sweet-smelling fruit wine and walked over to the fiery-blond haired boy.

“I hope my lord of the fire tribe shall forgive me for my rudeness.” Mali said as he offered the teenager the drink and discretely signaled his shamans to leave them alone on the small porch. “I don’t believe we’ve been officially introduced.”

The boy’s shoulders tensed. He was preparing to lie. No matter, this could be fun - after all, lying to a shaman is no easy feat.

“I know who you are, brother Ma’ala, and I am grateful for your assistance and hospitality.” Fye had to summon all of his inner strength not to flinch under the soul-piercing gaze of the Reverend Brother.

“No gratitude necessary, young one,” the shaman shook his head. “Although I would appreciate a name that I could put to your lovely face.”

“Tinder Kye, from the Incinerayah planes.” Ah, there’s the lie.

Mali laughed. The boy shuffled uncomfortably on the seating pillow.

“Tell me, lord Tinder, what do you know about the Shamanic Craft?” All he got in response was a pair of golden eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Let me help you a little. In an ancient tongue, forgotten for millenia now, this word had a very peculiar meaning. Sha-man - one who knows.”

Mali let the silence hang heavy in the air for a moment as he watched the boy change expressions like twinkling flames over his face. Realization set in, but was soon overshadowed by something else as “Kye” lifted his head to face the shaman with a warm inquisitive smile tugging at his full lips.

“Please tell me more, Reverend Brother, I have always been so curious about your ways. Is it true what they say? That the Herb allows you to read minds?” Oh, this boy was good. He went from nervousness to flattery and diversion in the blink of an eye like an experienced court lad. Could he have been one, before he was abducted?

Mali guessed he would learn about that soon enough. He had been given a golden opportunity to get close to this boy and he wasn’t going to waste it.

“Are you curious about the Herb, my lord?” The shaman asked, mirroring the teenager’s smile. “Would you like to observe its effects first hand?”

Fye took in a deep breath, but didn’t drop his act. The Herb was a powerful substance, extracted from the very mycelium structure that kept the huge bru’ankh’ai mushroom trees rooted to the ground. Its effects on the Alaian nervous system were many and all fascinating with the scientific community still attempting to wrap their brains over their full extent. The shamans have been using it in their rites and to enhance their abilities for healing and foresight at least since recorded history began a couple thousand rotations ago. What has been observed and confirmed so far was that it served to simultaneously activate neural pathways in the male brain which would typically operate in sequence. For those with shamanic talent, it also served to awaken the parasite genes of the bru’ankh’ai spores which had fused with the locals DNA thousands of years ago thus helping them perfect their Craft. For those with no talent, it was basically just a good ol’ hallucinogenic trip. Fye was sure he fell squarely in the latter group so it was unlikely to get a chance like this anytime soon and weighing his options, he decided that if ever there was a safe space for him to experiment with drugs, on Tib’tai, under the Reverend Brother’s direct supervision, was best.

“Oh, would that be possible for someone like me? The sacred Herb is for ceremony alone, is it not?” The boy feigned humility.

“That’s how it used to be, of course.” Mali nodded, attempting not to sound too pleased. “The old Reverend Brother Logi-a was your fellow countryman - he insisted that tradition and rites should be observed at all costs.” The shaman stood up and stretched out a hand to the boy to follow him up. “I, however, am of a different mind. Our Order has to evolve with the times, lest we become useless and rigid like ancient relics. So I hope you understand why I don’t mind sharing our sacred Herb with you or anyone else who might desire the Insight it can bring.”

Mali led them both away from the living quarters, towards the center of the garden where the sacred mushroom tree greeted them with its mystical glow. The shaman placed his palm on the lowest hanging crown and Fye stood in awe as he witnessed the warts focus their fluorescence around the Reverend Brother’s handprint. Even as he withdrew his hand, the pulsing lights kept their formation, outlining where his fingers had touched.

Mali tugged gently at the boy’s sleeve to get him moving again around the large stem and towards the entrance of the Central Temple.

“How much do you know about the mighty bru’ankh’ai, lord Tinder?”

“Only what’s included in highschool curriculum” , Fye responded, furrowing his brows together to remember. “Scientists believe it is not originally from our world - its genes have no analogue with any other life form on Alaiah and even the parasitic remnants fused in our DNA are quite distinct from the rest of our genome. But if it is a parasite, it has to be a benevolent one - test animals with the mushroom genes artificially removed live shorter lives and suffer from more illnesses.”

The shaman reached the massive wooden doors at the Temple’s entrance and pushed them aside with remarkable ease. As they walked in, Fye wished he had at least a few more pairs of eyes to be able to take it all in. The wooden floor was mostly painted red, however colorful mandalas were drawn on top, one to commemorate each successive Reverend Brother from the past heca-rotation. More seating pillows were arranged around each mandala so the shamans hailing from the same region as the old leaders of the Order could sit, basking in the protective glow of their Masters’ energies.

The roof of the Temple was removed at its very tip, exposing it to the night sky above. Below the opening was the Altar of Moons - a stone basin atop a pedestal, full of fresh water which was to be changed every day at dawn and at dusk, without fail. Currently, as the Water Moon was overhead, its reflection gave the liquid an almost surreal bluish glow. The floor surrounding the basin too was removed and instead, a layer of different color sands were poured into the circular hole that matched the one in the ceiling. This was the current Reverend Brother’s mandala, which was still being drawn and will continue to be drawn, until he is no longer leading the Order. Then it will be diligently copied onto the wooden floor and the sands reset to receive the energies of the new Lead Shaman.

During rites and ceremonies, the Reverend Brother would stand behind the Altar of Moons on the small circular podium and summon his Craft to initiate the ritual. The multi-colored sand below, being light as air and receptive as water, would slowly absorb the surplus energy the Lead Shaman was exerting and grain by tiny grain would move to arrange itself into a visual representation of his Pattern of Power. Right now, the sands were colored mostly in hues of blue and green - the colors of the Ocean, as Brother Ma’ala hailed from the Water twin of AWA. The waves which had already formed suited the lean, black-haired, blue-eyed man perfectly - they were smooth and gentle in shape, but deep and strong stretching outwards like the ripples of the great Sea after a storm.

“You are quite powerful it seems, Reverend Brother”, Fye exclaimed despite himself. “The pattern is so clear.”

“Thank you, lord Tinder, but I did not bring you here to receive more flattery.” The shaman made his way around the hole in the floor to the narrow wooden walkway that led to the Altar’s podium. Fye followed and saw the blue-eyed man crouch next to a small cabinet at the foot of the basin. Brother Ma’ala took a couple of droplet-shaped flasks from it and offered the boy one of them. “Rather, we are here to attain Insight and Unity with the Goddess through the miracle that is the bru’ankh’ai tree. Do you know what fungi do best, my lord? No other species is known to have such an ability.”

Fye accepted the little bottle and turned it a few times in his hands. The glass was clear and the liquid inside was a dark indigo color like the night sky, with faintly glowing white specs swimming through it. It looked like someone had captured a nebula from the cosmos, then had liquefied and carefully enclosed it in this tiny vessel. He was so hypnotized by the sight that he almost forgot to respond.

“They are able to use the network of roots by the surrounding flora to communicate. These neural networks can grow incredibly large and if removed by fire or some disease which could kill the fungi, the whole ecosystem collapses.”

The blue-eyed man nodded with a smile. He popped the cork off the small bottle in his hand and lifted it in salute.

“And here we are then, my lord from Incinerayah, a couple of trees in a forest, looking to become true parts of this ecosystem we call our planet.”

Fye mirrored the other’s gesture and they both drank the dark glowing liquid in two quick gulps. The potion was thick, almost gelatinous and was quite difficult to swallow. Additionally, it left a tingling sensation on his tongue and throat and wherever else it had touched his skin. Almost as if the liquid were alive and searching for something inside of him, something else which could match its spark.

He opened his eyes to find Brother Ma’ala was already staring at him with irises that now looked even more blue, if that were a possibility. For his part, Fye was surprised at how quickly he could feel some effects already - the colors were so bright it was as though everything around him was emitting some form of light. Or perhaps that had always been the case and it was only now thanks to the Herb that he could notice?

In the back of his mind he could still feel the remnants of the viscous liquid working its way through his system - still looking for something, gathering, learning, lighting sparks. Brother Ma’ala motioned for the boy to join him on the small wooden podium so he could look at his reflection in the Altar’s water. He hunched over and felt as though he was seeing his face for the first time ever.

He looked older than he remembered - his jawline and chin looked sharper and a shadow of a stubble was starting to form around his mouth. A tiny voice in the back of his head nagged him to take care of this unsightly bit of facial hair this instant, but he managed to shut it down with surprising ease.

His eyes were the thing that impressed him the most. They were now almost completely golden, the flecks of brown washed away and a ring of electric blue was forming around the outlines of his irises. The water started swirling inside the small basin and a few droplets fell on the back of his hand. They felt like tiny jolts of electricity rather than the tasteless liquid he was used to. He felt his brows furrow, but before he could examine further, two things happened.

First, he felt the Herb in his system had locked on to something deep inside of him, which had suddenly started clawing to get out to the surface of his consciousness. Second, the shaman grabbed his shoulders and spun him around with a bit too much force and Fye whimpered before he could stop it.

“What did you do, child?” Mali barely restrained himself from yelling in the young man’s face. “Look at me! What did you do?”

Fye stared at the shaman in front of him, bewildered. Did something happen? He was only looking at his face in the water and then it kind of started to boil. He felt as though the whole temple was spinning around him and his head might explode. What was happening to him?

“Look at me, Fye” Brother Ma’ala’s voice boomed with impressive force through his skull. Was it coming from inside his brain or did the Water man speak? “Look at me and breathe, you have to relax, please. Let’s do it together.”

The boy focused on the shaman’s face and the calming baritone, no matter where it came from and started to follow the Reverend Brother in a breathing exercise. Inhale, hold, exhale, hold. His skin was still tingling all over and his scalp may have already split open for all he knew, but the weight in his chest started to dissipate.

“What happened?” The prince asked weakly when he finally felt able to use his voice again.

Looking around the altar seemed to give him more questions and no solid answers. The water in the stone basin had calmed a bit, but it was still rippling, especially where his hand was grasping the edge. The mandala in the sand below them however, was ruined. Gone were the soft, yet deep grooves of the waves, the smooth expanses of the sea and in their stead jagged lines had appeared, mixing the shades of blue and green together and stretching towards the edges like spears. Sharp, angular lines and deep ridges had formed which looked like thunder bolts.

“Was there a storm, did I pass out? Were we hit by lightning?” He felt himself start to hyperventilate again and the shaman pressed a strong hand to his chest to relax him.

“Remember to breathe, Fye.” Mali echoed as he pulled the boy away from the central podium back to the relative safety of the wooden floor and plopped him down on one of the cushions.

The man’s voice was now for sure coming from his lips, but the prince felt another prickle of panic threatening to rise up in his chest.

“What did you call me?”

The Reverend Brother sat across from him and regarded him for the longest moment with an impenetrable expression. When he finally responded, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“Your Highness, I apologise for my mistreatment before. I had no idea.”

“Forget the Kriyan formalities for a moment, will you?” Fye exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration, but almost immediately pulled them back as he heard an ominous crack sound through the air where the tiny blue bolts erupting from his fingertips had torn electrons away from the atmospheric gases in the room. “This! Tell me what this is!”

“It would seem…” The shaman paused again, for the first time since Fye met him, the man seemed unsure of himself. “It would seem you have a Gift, Your Highness.”

A Gift? What was this junkie fanatic on about? Did he of all people not know that men had no access to the elements?

“Impossible! I have never been able to firestart, never!” Though he had tried, was what he was too ashamed to admit.

“Fire?” The Reverend Brother chuckled, the confident glint now back in his eyes - some revelation had come over him, transforming his expression from confusion to … what? Hope, or was it ambition? “No, Prince Pyre Fye, no firestarting in your future. What you have is so much more! Oh, by the Goddess, so that’s why she was so careful to never leave us alone!”

“She who? Linda?”

“Never mind that for now, Your Highness.” The shaman cut him off as he suddenly stood up. “I apologise that I cannot provide you with all the answers you seek this instant, but I need to make absolutely sure that I am not misleading you. The Herb is still coursing through you, it will be until dawn. If you stay still and breathe - don’t let it tempt you to move - you will be alright, so I ask that you stay here, I will send some of my most trusted men to help you.”

“Please don’t leave!” Fye stood up as well. “Take me to Linda, find that pervert of a windstorm who’s always tailing her, she’ll know where she is. I need to see Linda!”

“Your Highness!” The shaman’s voice was once again inside his head. “Listen to me and listen well - stay here and do not move. And most definitely do not seek out your female companions. If I am right, those women will turn on you like predatory ocean dwellers the second they learn what you really are! Hear it from one who has suffered a similar fate - women can never be trusted about such things.”