Tem clears his throat and readjusts his travel pack. “Ready for our expedition? Packed up, I hope, as requested.”

“Yes, sir!” I hasten to assure him, patting my own canvas bag slung across my chest. It’s treated with wax to repel the rain in case we run into any inclement weather, but it’s not very large and holds only a few dried rations and a blanket to wrap up in at night. At my waist my belt knife is strapped in place.

“Excellent, excellent. Now, I set a brisk pace. Keep up if you can. If not, I’ll meet you here at this cave, where we’ll camp for the night before our big day tomorrow.” He hands me a map of the wilds surrounding the city. A small red cross marks the rendezvous spot in case I get lost or fall behind. If the mischievous twinkle in his brown eyes is anything to go off, then it appears my first lessons will be in improving my map craft.

Handoff complete, Tem simply . . . disappears.

I almost drop the map in shock.

He flickers back into my sight a hundred yards away, beckons for me to hurry up, and blurs back into stealth. Thankfully, my legs start moving on their own accord, although my mind is still jumping up and down and cheering like a small child watching a street charlatan pull off a scam. Except, with Tem, there’s no trick. He’s just that good. The weirdest part about it is that I don’t even sense any mana resonance, despite Ezio’s stringent training.

Eight flickers later, I’ve completely lost track of Tem, although I’ve been sprinting as fast as I can toward the old growth forest to try to keep up. My legs and arms swing naturally, and as I inhale through my nose, hold my breath, and then slowly exhale through my mouth several strides later, I find myself fiercely glad for Ember’s strong urging to incorporate more endurance training into my recovery regimen over the last year. My thoughts drift back to my sad showing during the Shadow Jaguar attack—the huffing and puffing, only to pull up lame on the way to unsuccessfully defend the city. I chuckle at the memory of Ember’s face. I think my out of shape butt embarrassed her more than my lack of fighting prowess or Skills. As usual, it seems she was on to something.

I run deeper into the woods, scanning back and forth for danger as I pass under thicker and more foreboding foliage. Every ten or fifteen minutes, I stop by the stream for a quick sip of water and a direction check against the map to make sure I’m on the right track. As far as I can tell, I should catch up with Tem in another few hours at this pace.

While I didn’t expect to read a map and track Tem through the woods, there’s something soothing about listening to bird song and watching the warm light play on the dappled leaves of the tall trees.

It seems suspiciously simple for training with an expert, regardless that this is only my first real time outside the city proper aside from my trips to Peliharaon. I may not be a [Tracker], [Scout], or [Warrior], but I’m also not completely unaware of proper procedure anymore thanks to Ember’s drills, reading through the combat manuals, and practicing with the Iron Lunk. I should be able to make a good showing of myself.

I push onward at a steady clip, trying to keep my body relaxed so that I’m ready for action if things go wrong. Inwardly, I’m tenser than a fresh-wound spring. If I’ve learned anything at all reading about Tem Cytakin, [Scout] extraordinaire, it’s that he’s a firm believer in handling the unexpected. He’s probably one of those frighteningly confident and successful people who thinks everyone else should learn through difficult experiences, too.

Nonetheless, I keep running at the quickest pace that I can maintain without frequent breaks. The path thins from a well-defined game trail to only the occasional hoof- or paw-print to mark the passage of wild creatures. I squint and try to pick up any traces of mana residue in a vain hope that I will find a trace of Tem’s passing, but my magical senses are still woefully underdeveloped. I keep hoping I’ll unlock a mana-related perception or manipulation Skill, but so far I have no such luck. As long as I keep practicing, though, I’m sure it will pay off in the long run.

The predominant tree type changes the farther I explore. The leafy, broad-leaf trees native to the city of Silaraon give way to tall, prickly pines. Underfoot, instead of pastel flowers and tall grass, or the occasional bed of soft, pale green moss surrounded by ferns, now only thorny brambles stab the thin soles of my light leather boots. I pick my path with more care now, wary of pricking my feet and laming myself.

My stomach growls, finally announcing the end of my current trek. My legs can keep going, but I want food. I’ll likely do better with sustenance, anyway. Time for dinner. Afterward, I’ll push on for the final stretch on a full stomach, with my energy reserves replenished.

Or, at least, that’s the plan until an all-too-familiar shape from my nightmares leaps out of the bushes.

Shadow Jaguar!

My mind shrieks in incoherent fear at the sudden appearance, but instead of shutting down, my body responds to my rigorous training. I leap back and to the side, drawing my belt knife and copying Zviad’s smooth footwork.

Grateful that Ember’s hard training didn’t completely fail me, I brandish my knife and reach out with my magic. Heat blossoms right in front of the monster’s eyes, pulling the thermal energy from the surrounding area to fuel the attack. It finches back from the heat, buying me time to make a tactical retreat and come up with a plan.

Shadow Jaguars are a lot scarier than the training dummy Mikko made for me, but I find myself thrilling to the challenge. Dancing on the razor’s edge between life and death, I glide around the big cat, slashing to keep it at bay. My knife is only a distraction, however, as I gather enough heat to burn it from the inside out—

The hated cat lunges across the clearing, faster than I anticipated. Snarling a hunter’s cry, it knocks me to the ground and interrupts my casting. Sharp claws rake across my arm, drawing blood. Once again I find myself pinned down by a predator, staring up with wide eyes at sharp-toothed death, but this time I don’t plan on being easy prey.

My hand clutches the handle of my knife. I scream in defiant anger, unleashing all the heat I’ve gathered from over a dozen yards in every direction. I channel the full force of my upgraded [Heat Manipulation] into the tip of my knife as I stab up into the vile creature’s heart.

Blood bursts out through the gaping hole in its chest, but the wound cauterizes almost immediately thanks to the intensity of the heat pouring off me in waves. The cuts in the flesh sear shut, cutting off the viscous flow of black ichor. I shove the heavy, gory carcass off me and scramble to my feet, glancing around wildly as I scan the forest for more of the shadow cats and their stupid, sharp claws.

Vigilance! They travel in packs.

Knife extended, I turn in circles to survey the surroundings. Relying on my own two eyes makes me nervous; I wish I could see their mana signatures. Wishing I already had a form of [Manasight] does no good at the moment, though. A thought strikes me, and I reach out with my [Heat Manipulation] to see if I can sense any thermal anomalies. Nothing.

Slow clapping interrupts my line of thought. Tem saunters over as though taking a stroll in the park. He emits no heat at all, perfectly attuned to the ambient temperature. I don’t sense any mana signature, either. “You’re still alive, so that’s step one. Good, good. Hate to lose a student on the first day. Bad for future enrollment, wouldn’t you say?”

“Glad I didn’t ruin your recruitment drive,” I say, wincing at the pain in my arm.

Tem chuckles. “Thanks. But what are you going to do about the venom?”

With that, he stretches out next to a squat, flat-topped brown rock that I had intended to use as a table for my own snack. He yawns, pulls out a small wedge of cheese, and cuts off a still-smoking haunch of the jaguar, whose flesh roasted from my attack. “Good eating on these. I’ll save you some for dinner, if you survive.”

Tem tears off a bite with his teeth. He nibbles on the burnt meat along with his cheese, ignoring me entirely now that he’s checked to make sure that I didn’t die right off, and I realize that if I want to keep living, then I have to find a cure by myself.

I nod to myself, considering my options. If Tem thinks that I can do it, then it should be possible with the skills and knowledge I have already. Precious little comes to mind, though. My heart sinks for a moment, but I shake off that line of thought and start scrounging around for any herbs with healing properties. After a few rather fruitless minutes, I swallow my pride and ask if Tem knows what I need to collect to counteract the venom.

He gives me a considered look, strokes his short, dark goatee, then nods. “I like a man with initiative. Better to admit what you don’t know. Henbane is your friend here. Look for the flower. Oh, and two parts primrose will help.” He pauses, tilts his head to the side as though listening to something I can’t hear, and shrugs. “Probably.”

“Probably” is still better odds than any plan I’ve come up with, so I take off running through the woods in a low crouch, examining the ground growth for the plants I need to mix up an antidote. I’ve never been particularly religious, but right now I’ll pray to any and all of the woodland spirits if they’ll help me stay conscious long enough to complete the recipe.

I chill the area surrounding the scratch on my arm in hopes that it will slow the spread, but it doesn’t seem to do much good. Already, my movements are turning sluggish and painful, and I haven’t seen anything that looks like the sketches of the plants I saw in the survival handbook I skimmed prior to the expedition.

Focusing on recalling what I studied, I redouble my efforts, skimming through the bushes in search of the primrose. Henbane is less likely to grow in the shaded areas I’m in right now, if my memory serves me correctly. I’ill search for it next, after I locate primrose. Assuming there’s any to find at all, I suspect it will be in one of the clearings I passed moments before the attack.

I try to stay focused, but I can’t shake an intrusive thought. The Shadow Jaguars hunt in pairs or packs, and seldom by daylight unless they’re roving about in overwhelming force. What are the chances of finding a single, solitary cat? The only answer is that Tem set me up. If I don’t survive, he’s got some explaining to do. Maybe my shade can’t haunt him.

Stop that! It’s a well-curated survival scenario. He won’t let me die on his watch.

I think.

I hope.

I’ve mostly reconciled myself to the reality of a single Skill, but right now, I’m willing to kill for nothing more than a good [Herbalism] Skill. My jaw clenches. How in the name of the seven skies am I supposed to find what I need in such short order?

Slow your breathing. Don’t agitate yourself or you’ll speed up blood circulation as your heart rate increases. Focus on the antidote, not on your circumstances. You can do this, Nuri.

I don’t stop moving. Tem must have deemed me up to the challenge, which means the ingredients I need are nearby. I don’t want to let him down, not on the first day. There’s plenty of time for complaining later, if I survive—when I survive, I vow to myself. Failure means death, so I’ve got no other choice but to push myself forward, moving faster, not caring about the spread of the venom anymore.

A few irregular heartbeats later, I strike paydirt. My hands are shaking badly by now, but I calm myself and harvest the primrose. After a moment’s deliberation, I stuff the plant into my mouth since I lack the dexterity to undo the straps on my carryall at the moment. I turn toward the setting sun and make a mad dash for the clearing I marked earlier as an option for henbane.

Halfway there, my feet go numb. I stumble, trip over my suddenly too-heavy legs, and smash face-first into the dirt. Groaning in pain and fear, I hunch up my body and wiggle toward the hope of the next plant in the antidote recipe, inching my way forward like a worm until my traitorous muscles give out. Move, you shatter-cursed arms! I bellow internally, but my limp muscles refuse to obey mental commands. The desperate imperatives of survival are no match for poison.

A clump of flowers hits my face with a soft, wet sound. My eyes struggle to focus on the flowers due to the close proximity, but I vaguely make out the odd, black and white petals of henbane. I strain my mouth toward my unexpected salvation, bite down on the straggly plant, and chew it into a mush along with the primrose. Nothing happens, so I infuse the herbal concoction with heat from my favorite Skill. My mana sputters stubbornly, but I focus on all the mana control drills I learned from Ezio, and the energy finally transfers. I keep pouring heat into the herbs before [Heat Manipulation] gives out, and a strange sensation blossoms in my mouth as the mana mixes in with the flowers.

A flicker of warm, orange light pulses in my senses along with the churn of mana in the herbal mixture in my mouth, but my Skill dies before I can latch onto the phenomenon. I’m not sure how I can see the light, since it’s directly below my eyeballs, but I know for a certainty that it’s connected to [Heat Manipulation]. The light fades from my perception in a blink, but a spike of excitement hits me. I saw mana! Not for long, but I saw it.

Gentle warmth floods my mana channels—not my veins or arteries. The foreign power makes me leery, but I will die without intervention, so I relax and try to deactivate my instinctive resistance to the feeling of invasion. As I let the mana-empowered medicinal brew work its way through my body and soul, pinpricks of hot, itchy pain erupt all over my skin. I can almost see them out of the corner of my eye, unless I’m imagining things.

“Steady, now! Don’t fight it, Nuri. You’re doing a grand job, but don’t stop fighting.” Tem’s voice echoes from what seems like very far away. I latch onto it and listen to his advice. “You’ve got to excrete the poison. No scratching. Just grin and bear it. You’ll make it through, although you’ll never want to repeat the experience again.”

I open my mouth to reply, but only a muffled gurgle comes out. Tem chuckles softly at my misfiring. The worst part is that I can’t scratch myself even if I want relief. While the venom’s danger zone seems to have passed, the paralysis effect isn’t wearing off yet. I’m trapped in my own body, at the mercy of the ravaging war between Shadow Jaguar venom and this intensely uncomfortable, intrusive healing process.

“Well, you’ll be out for a while, make no mistake. Wake me when it’s over,” Tem declares cheerfully. He takes the opportunity to nap, stretching out on a soft patch of moss and covering his face with his hat.

I scream internally, just raging for a while, until it gets boring. Then, with nothing else to do, I shut out the soft sigh of the wind through the trees, try to ignore the rosy fingers of an early sunset, and turn my sight inward to try to observe the effects of the mana-empowered herbal concoction. I might as well make the best of things and train my non-existent mana sight in hopes of finally unlocking the Skill.

Excitement drives me. What did I see when the antidote coalesced from random plants to an antitoxin agent? Something odd just happened, and I’m holding out hope that it’s the first solid indication of progress.

But for now, my body and soul just hurt all over.

=+=

“I hear that last time you took on a big cat, you were out of commission for days. Look at you now! Ready to march on within the hour. Rapid improvement.” Tem’s eyes sparkle with barely hidden amusement as he speaks.

I blush at the praise. “I should have been able to handle a single cat without taking a hit. They usually hunt in pairs, you know. Odd that I only ran into one, but I guess that’s good news for me. Thanks.”

Tem ignores the accusation that he was responsible for leading the Shadow Jaguar to me just to gauge my reaction to combat, but I suppose I’m not upset since I survived. I will be very angry if I do not live through the expedition, however. I’m growing attached to my life, and I’d rather not lose it just as I’m starting to make real progress. I’m sad that I wouldn’t be able to tell him about my annoyance after the fact.

We’re slowly leaving the deep forest behind, making our way toward the cave Tem has marked on the map. The densely-packed, towering conifers thin out eventually, giving way to beech trees and wider patches of wildflower meadows interspersed throughout the forest. It’s strangely peaceful, not hearing the constant crackle of flames, clank of metal rods, and tap of tools on glass.

“Do we have to push on to the cave tonight? I’m more exhausted than I thought I’d be, recovering from the venom.” I wince at what I perceive to be too much whining, but each step feels like torture. I’m not going to die anymore, but the healing process drained my mana completely. I feel wrung out and hollow in a way that’s worse than regular, physical exertion.

Tem glances around, always scanning for danger, although I’m certain he has a Skill that will alert him more reliably than his eyes can. He takes his time answering, not speaking until he is apparently satisfied that we’re not in imminent danger. “The cave will be a better shelter than camping in a clearing. Night is more unpredictable than the day, and this far from the city, a few oversized house cats are the least of our worries.”

I groan under my breath. “That means you expect me to handle any trouble that comes up, because there is no way you’d be concerned about facing them yourself. They won’t pose any real threat to you.”

“Perceptive,” he says wryly.

We don’t exchange any further words until we reach the hidden cave and set up camp. Tem is a stickler for covering our tracks and ensuring that every approach to the hideout is well concealed, so we’re hidden from line of sight but still have some visibility outward. I follow his directions to the letter, but my clumsy hands take far longer than I’d like to draw old branches and foliage in front of the cave mouth, and I fear that I’m earning his ire.

Once he’s examined the obfuscation and declares it may be enough to “confuse a blind bat, at any rate,” we go inside. I lick my lips several times before I work up the courage to ask the question that’s been on my mind since we set out: “How did you know about this cave? You aren’t from around here.”

Tem leans back against the dirt wall. “You sure about that?”

“I’ve read your autobiography,” I admit, my cheeks burning. I sound like one of those fanatics who follow famous people around in hopes of basking in the reflected echoes of their glories. No thanks. I want my own glory. My story’s just beginning.

He snorts. “That trash bit of libel is still in publication?”

“Didn’t you write it?” I splutter. I sit up and squint at him in confusion. “Then how is it libel?”

He tuts. “Don’t believe everything you read, Nuri.”

I groan as the truth hits me. “Of course. You’re lying intentionally to throw people off.”

Tem winks. “Misdirection is useful. Hasn’t Ember taught you anything? She used to be more crafty, from what I recall.”

My whole world spins sideways. Tem knows Ember? I thought Ezio was Tem’s contact in Silaraon. And how does he know that she’s been teaching me? Has he been spying on my life for some reason? Maybe Ezio wants to get rid of me so that he can claim the glass armor as his own and won’t have to share the profits. Fear flashes through me at the uncharitable thought, but I clamp down on my wayward words and try to regain control of my expression, particularly as I recall that I told him about Ember the previous day.

Tem lets out a sigh. “Pity. I’d hoped for more of a reaction when I made it sound like I knew your master. You’ve been rather excitable at every other turn so far.” Tem pulls a pipe out of his travel bag, tamps down some tobacco, and snaps his finger to light up. Apparently, he considers that the end of the matter.

I can’t keep myself from staring at the sophisticated, debonair way that he makes even a casual pipe smoke look mysterious. Thrilling, even. Although I could easily copy his little trick and light a pipe with my [Heat Manipulation], it wouldn’t ooze awesomeness. Tem makes it look so effortless and charming that I’m jealous of his abilities.

My curiosity finally wins out. “How did you do that? As far as I know, you don’t have any fire affinities or heat abilities. Does your Class give you some sort of survival Skill for lighting fires? I could see how that would be useful for a [Scout], although it seems low level.”

For the first time since I’ve met Tem in person, he seems genuinely confused. “You can’t follow the mana flows?”

I shake my head. “Only one Skill, remember? Nothing new since I earned my Class. I’m hoping that I’ll get another one when I advance, but I haven’t hit the First Threshold yet, either. I feel like I’m right on the cusp of it. That’s why I wanted to go on this expedition with you.”

“Ah! Right, we did discuss this in Ezio’s office. I’ve been preoccupied, I’m ashamed to admit. Please forgive my indelicacy in the matter.”

I arch an eyebrow. His entire demeanor and diction have shifted. Is this a glimpse of the courtier behind the [Scout]? My own manners seem flat and clunky by comparison. “Oh, uh, it’s no problem. I’m mostly over the fact that I’m a slow learner. I’ve been trying to see mana, so I’m hoping that I’ll unlock [Mana Sense] or a variant soon. Ezio says I’m close.”

“Mm. Based on the prototypes of the glass armor, and your adroitness in class, I could have sworn you had some mana-related Skill. Your mana manipulation is all manual?”

I nod. “Correct.”

“Impressive. Beyond your abilities with heat obtained from glassworking, you’ve clearly pushed yourself. Ah. That must be the purpose of those mana-control drills that Ezio is so fond of for improving finesse. Apologies. Negligence on my part, I suppose, expecting you to create your own antidote. Exceptionally lucky that you didn’t die back there; I should have stepped in sooner.”

“I’m not as fragile as I look. I’ve been training hard since the beast irruption last year. I’d prefer to look at the bright side: I’ve learned how to make an antidote. My [Heat Manipulation] is pretty useful, since it’s how I’ve learned mana control. It’s a lot harder for me to manage without the crutch of the Skill.”

Tem blows out smoke rings. He smiles slightly. “Good insight. I’m glad you recognize that it’s ultimately a crutch. But keep in mind that a training tool is helpful when you start. Don’t feel too bad about it.”

“Thanks,” I say, still uncomfortable at receiving praise from my hero. “I’ve practiced mana control for a while in an attempt to improve my Skill. I’ve upgraded it once already this year, and I’m gaining more fine control and precision with heat transfers in the hot shop.”

“What do you make other than armor?” Tem asks. He leans forward, tilts his head side to side to crack his neck, and waves away the pipe smoke. “Tell me what you craft. Do you have a plan to sell to adventurers and more discerning clientele?”

“Eventually. I’m not ready yet. I built these,” I explain, pulling the energy-transfer glass orbs from my bag. I toss the red one into the fire to warm it up. “They’re helping me improve my glassmaking skills at an acceptable rate, according to my boss Ember, whom you apparently don’t actually know in any official capacity.”

Tem chuckles, meeting my gaze without blinking. He shrugs nonchalantly. “She sounds fun. I’ll have to see what she can make when we’re back in town. I’m terribly intrigued by glass armor, I must admit,”

“I’m still stumped when it comes to kinetic energy transfer. Multiple glass layers should spread out the impact better than they do. I need a compositional analysis Skill,” I murmur.

“I’m sure you’ll find a method to figure it out the old fashioned way,” Tem says. He gives me an encouraging smile. “That aside, I have your notes, and I should have recalled that you only have the [Heat Manipulation] Skill under your belt at present. Unprofessional of me to put a student’s life on the line and not even take a moment to double-check your Skills. Downright unprofessional.”

He seems more bothered by his momentary lapse of judgment than by my brush with death. I try not to take it too personally, although it makes me more nervous about our scouting arrangement than I was previously. I clear my throat once or twice before I reply. “I’m not keen on dying. Might have to come back and get revenge if I don’t make it home.”

He frowns and sits up, no longer lounging against the cave wall. “Are you threatening to haunt me from the afterlife?”

“Maybe that will teach you some professionalism,” I respond, laughing.

To my surprise, he chuckles at my silly comeback. “How refreshing. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to talk with people who aren’t quivering in fear of knives in the dark. A bit of pluck! Very commendable, lad. Very commendable.”

“You do have a terrifying reputation,” I point out, my skin crawling at the thought of his infamous knives appearing out of nowhere.

His good humor dries up. He taps his pipe on his knee, knocking some ash into the fire, and looks out toward the deepening gloom of night. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft with regret. “I do.”

“So! Uh, mana manipulation. You have some talent yourself?” I ask awkwardly, feeling bad about dredging up bad memories. “I assume so, or else you wouldn’t have known how to make the antidote. Maybe you could, uh, teach me?”

“Talent? Let’s not go overboard. I do have some modicum of ability. One learns to use all one’s senses when one’s life is at risk. Nothing like danger for Skill advancement.”

The phrase feels like the last piece of a puzzle, and an idea clicks into place in my mind. “Do you think that’s why I upgraded my Skill after the monster irruption?”

“Irruption?” He raises a brow. “I hardly think a handful of those bronze-ranked brutes constitutes an actual invasion. They’re harmless little kitties.”

“I was going to die unless—”

“Yet you didn’t die,” Tem interjects, cutting me off. His languid demeanor evaporates, and he fixes me with a stare so intense it makes Ember look like a little girl skipping through a field of flowers. There’s a beast lurking in the depths of his usually mild brown gaze.

“I was in danger,” I insist, my mulish streak kicking in.

“You felt like you were in danger,” he corrected. “Few died. I’d have heard if Silaraon suffered casualties. As I told you earlier, I don’t forget my roots.”

“Bijan's family didn't get off so easily," I say defiantly, but he has a point. They didn't live in Silaraon, so he’s technically correct with his assertion. "Regardless, do you think the danger is why I actually made progress?”

“Do I think there’s a cosmic connection between danger and earning abilities or ranking up your Skills?” Tem asks, clarifying my question. He strokes his slim jaw and considers. “No. You’re likely correct, however, in the sense that fighting the Shadow Jaguars rolling through the region acted as an inciting incident that shocked you into action.”

I scratch the back of my head, trying to sort out his statements. “But you said that there’s nothing like danger for Skill advancement. That’s why I asked.”

“Right. And now I’m modifying my statement. We tend to apply ourselves best when we can’t afford the luxury of sitting around on our bums.” He puffs on his pipe, murmurs to himself, and relights the tobacco. A long draw later, he hums to himself, and settles back against the wall of the little cave again as though his outburst never happened. “You think you’ve had a moment of enlightenment, do you?”

“Yes!” I nod eagerly. “I sensed something when I used [Heat Manipulation] to complete the antidote. I’d hoped it might be my first inkling of mana not already my own.”

“Probably was, lad. You finally had a reason to pay attention.”

“I’ve been working at it for months. “It’s not like I wasn’t trying,” I protest weakly, but I’m grinning despite myself. I know he doesn’t mean anything by the statement.

“Show me,” Tem demands, gesturing toward the glass globes with his pipe. “Go on, Nuri. Use those shiny oversized marbles. Impress me.”

“You probably won’t really see much,” I say, trying to lower Tem’s expectations before the inevitable weight of reality shows him just how untalented of a student he’s taken on. “It’s just energy transfer, moving heat from one orb to the other. The red one is, uh, hot. As you can see.” I gesture toward the fire, where it glows like warm honey.

Tem clicks his tongue. “What do you think mana is, if not energy in motion? There is plenty to see, if you know what to look for. Always is. Ah, but I suppose it’s not your fault that no one’s ever taught you how to see. Ezio focuses on the basics in Foundations. Go on, then.”

Properly admonished, I reach for my mana and coax it into the framework of my Skill, moving slowly to try to watch every swirl and eddy of my own mana. Every so often, I catch a glimpse of what’s happening. It’s strange to think that I possess a small piece of the strange energy that animates the very universe.

The crystalline structure shudders at the first touch of power, but I’m not worried. Everything is healed over; no more tiny fissures all over the surface of the Skill. Soaking the Skill structure in mana and pushing to rank it up has reinforced it, resulting in a polished, perfect structure. The cracks grew back together over time, so I don’t pay much mind to the momentary instability or the occasional hairline crack anymore.

Drawing the mana from within my pool, I guide the energy down my channels and out my fingertips. I reach out to the campfire first, drawing the motes of heat from the red globe and directing them toward the blue, heat-resistant globe.

“Are you always this slow?” Tem drawls. “I’d hate to see the Lesser variety before your upgrade. I’ve met sloths who could beat you in a sprint!”

“Just limbering up my soul before I begin in earnest,” I reply in an airy tone. “Wouldn’t want to set us both on fire.”

His eyes sparkle in merriment. “Hmph. You didn’t need to thaw out before you charred that cat earlier. Good thing, too.”

I nod along. “Yeah, it would have gutted me otherwise.”

“Er, yes, that. I was more concerned about the potential loss of dinner.”

I roll my eyes and flick a bit of extraneous fire his way, utterly confident in his tempered body and survival abilities to negate any actual damage. His amused chuckle proves me right.

As the heat transfer picks up, I grasp the energy flows and accelerate the Skill, pulling every bit of heat from the glowing red glass globe without snuffing out the surrounding fire. I’ve made huge strides in my dexterity thanks to the drills with Ezio, and now it’s my time to show off a bit as I truly begin to manipulate the rosy glow.

My control clamps down on the area, refusing to allow any heat loss, and I thread the red-orange heat into the training orb, warming it bit by bit from the core first.

“I added layers of different components and colors,” I explain as I work, self-conscious about how silly it must look as the glass lights up in patterns and flashy colors. “That way I can gauge how accurately I’m bringing up the temperature from the inside out.”

Tem blows a wobbly smoke ring, scowling at its irregular appearance, and I wonder if he’s even watching me at all. I start to sweat a little from concentrating so hard, not from the ambient temperature, but from the intense exertion of overcoming the resistance and layering my control. Rush the heat too fast, and the outside of the glass will start to glow, but then the inside stays cold. If I want a perfect transfer, then I need to change the temperature and the color from the inside out.

“These temperature and mana-control orbs—an original idea?” Tem asks, setting down his pipe and finally giving me his undivided attention.

“Yep. I have a lot of them,” I boast. “Ideas, I mean.”

“Clever,” Tem allows. “More accurate way to gauge your control than simply guessing or relying on intuition. Well done.”

I nod in agreement, and quote Ember without thinking. “Glass never lies.”

“Ha! A noble sentiment. Maybe I’ll take up the craft. I’ve had enough of liars for a lifetime back in the capital.”

“It probably wouldn’t be too hard for you to pick up, with your advancement and dexterity. All you really need is a willingness to keep trying when the glass has a mind of its own and your project doesn’t turn out right. The good news is that you can always melt down a failed attempt and try again. Mistakes never feel permanent, just expensive sometimes.”

We share another chuckle, although this time my laughter is a bit strained. Raising the temperature of the final layer on the blue orb is tricky, and I often fail at this step. I need all my focus to achieve an even color.

Trembling with exhaustion from a long day, drained both mentally and physically, l nonetheless pull off a perfect transfer. “Halfway done,” I announce hoarsely. “Now the other way around.”

If adding heat energy to a cold object is an exercise in restraint, drawing the heat back out from the same object is more akin to wrestling an abyssal alligator. Pulling ambient heat from the environment is fairly easy, but once I direct the energy elsewhere, manipulating the world with my Skill, the mana imprints itself somehow. Changing the new, updated template of reality requires exponentially more mana for each iteration.

My efforts redouble, and for a short time, appear fairly successful. The outer layer of glass on the blue globe dims and recovers its deeper, almost purple hues. I squint, even though it does nothing to help with mana sight, and try again to see what’s going on at a more fundamental level. I am so close to a breakthrough that I can taste it like copper on my tongue.

Mentally, however, the strain builds and builds with dangerous, inexorable momentum as exhaustion catches up with me. My fingers start to tremble first, but the shivers spread like wildfire to the rest of my body. Soon, I’m shaking so hard that I lose my balance and crash down on the sandy cave floor with a heavy groan.

“Shatter it all,” I mutter.

“Decent training tool. Execution is still in the formative stages, but if you can improve on the design, then I’ll commission a dozen sets of your glass orbs for my eleven-year-old nieces,” Tem says, acting as though my spasming, floor-bound form is completely normal. And perhaps it is to him. Collapse is merely a sign of dedication!

“They could use another training tool. I like your potential, Nuri.”

“Thanks,” I say around a mouthful of dirt. His praise warms me, even though I’m too tired to show more appreciation.

“We’ll march on at first light. Get some sleep. I will take both the first and second watch. You can make it up to me tomorrow.”

I won’t get a better deal, but it’s hard to express gratitude with my mouth half-buried in the dirt, so I simply close my eyes and give myself up to the darkness, too exhausted to even wrap myself up in a blanket.