Chapter 329: In Plain Sight

Thank you to my beta reader and editor, GlassThreads!

Toren Daen

I stared at the outline of their souls.

In the endless infinity of the Sea of my Soul, I could see so, so much. Hammers that wished to be more than tools of destruction. Crowns forged of Grey light, made more through silver vines and opalescent scales. A bag of pierced gold dust, bleeding aureate for those for whom she cared. A network of impossible gears, churning and chugging in their relentless push for progress.

Before, it had been my mother's light that allowed me to see it all. Now it was my own light—inborn and true—that illuminated those cosmos.

I stood on the lake of burning blood, taking the time to consider them all. To appreciate my anchors, who had brought me back from the abyss.

Mordain wasn't here now. I got the sense that the Lost Prince would rarely get the direct opportunity to approach my soul due to his confinement in Mount Geolus. He'd claimed that he'd only been able to reach my soul without burning it asunder via my Brand because he was Clan Head. The only being with the authority to rescind my banishment in the first place, and thus he was granted the privilege of not turning me to a crisp.

The golden shaft of soul-burning fire glimmered near me, piercing through the concept of family and companionship. Where once it had been merely a wound, now it was a lynchpin.

I am held together only through those I love, I thought, brushing my hand against the golden fire. It didn't burn me. But I am also pierced by it.

It was ironic, in more than one way. Because I could still feel that absence. That gaping, horrible wound where a connection was supposed to be. The weight of a comforting hand on my shoulder was gone—more than gone.

My soul churned around me, fiery golden-red blood starting to paint the expanse with those of a memory out of sheer habit, but I forced it down. Reasserted control, refusing to see another painted memory of my bond, another dream.

I didn't need to breathe, but I found my shade inhaling and exhaling erratically. I needed to measure myself, and remember what was to come.

My shade's lip quirked irritably. Time passed slowly here, in the expanse of my soul. Or was time even truly a concept at all? I'd gotten the sense that the soul—while I reached it through vivum—was an aspect all on its own, higher than the rest. But that just meant that my monkey mind forced concretions where there were none, shoving a higher order into a lesser one.

"And so time passes here," I muttered, staring off into the distance, "when the soul should be unbound by such limitations."

I'd been taking my time to reach out to my loved ones, friends, companions… Those whom I could afford to grace with my aetheric presence. I'd healed Sevren of his maladies, granting him a bit of reprieve from whoever he'd been fighting. I'd hoped that he'd come out on top. When Circe had called for my powers, as she did every so often, I'd granted her them, letting her channel my heartfire and ease the wounds of the sick.

I stared longingly out at the lanternlights of the once-Asclepius phoenixes, wanting nothing more than to reach out and give them the same healing touch. I knew I could: they'd accepted banishment, too, and so I wouldn't be burned from approaching them. But I also knew if I reached out, healed them or did anything else, I risked exposing myself too early.

But something else finally took my attention away from the members of my flock.

Seris' soul shone. It wasn't like before, a nebulous expanse of silver masks and dark shadows. Now, as I stared up into everything, I saw her burning with light around the rims. She reminded me of a solar eclipse, if instead of sheer darkness across her surface she held to pale ivory. The way her soul pushed and pulled on mine made my earlier worries and fears settle. The tides of my ethereal blood followed a silent sway.

I wanted to reach out to her, too. To let myself drift upon the indescribable tides, to be close with another soul again. I'd done it for so many of my friends, letting them know that I was still alive. That eventually, I'd return, bringing some hope with me.

Temptation burned. The blood of my soul flowed around me, rising in tandem with all that I was. The moon teaches the tides what it is to flow, I thought, yearning. They rise and fall at the command of something so far away, impossibly out of reach. But what if… what if the tides could meet the one who'd taught them? I could let her know that I lived.

Yes, I could. And that was what I'd been doing with Naereni, Sevren, Wade, and all of my other friends, hadn't it? Didn't Seris deserve to know, too? She would welcome me, wouldn't she?

It's hardly been a few weeks and you're already so desperately lonely, I found myself thinking, sullen. Don't lose yourself, Toren. Don't forget who you are.

My shade's hands curled, and I forced myself to look away from the brilliant moon. Because even though I spoke in circles around myself, trying desperately to conjure up some sort of excuse, I wouldn't reach out to my lover's soul. I couldn't.

Seris had set one boundary. One absolute, immutable line that I could not cross. That of her soul, her utmost mask. The secret she kept cradled to herself.

She knew I was alive, of that I was certain. She knew that I wouldn't leave Alacrya, my friends, and everything behind for her rebellion. And even though it would take some time to return, she would hold out hope for me to bring her some ember of the stars on high when I did.

If Seris needed me, she could call for me, as she did to push herself through Integration. Nothing more, and nothing less.

When I opened my eyes, I was a man again, contained by flesh alone. I breathed in, feeling the willingness of the mana around me to surge inward, then breathed out.

Mana was so dense in Epheotus. I had never felt a place so rich with the stuff, and at first, it had almost left me reeling. Like being overwhelmed with a dozen scents at once, it could be easy to lose oneself in the smog. Fire and water and wind and earth all crowded around me, supernaturally potent.

I had always sensed the ambient mana regardless of attribute. But by nature of having a fire affinity, I'd always been most able to distinguish the searing texture of the ambient heat energy. It was roiling, churning, alive. Demanding to move and flow.

But whether by the nature of my Integration, or the sheer volume of energy in the air, I found myself able to more directly pinpoint each distinct type.

I was sitting cross-legged in a cave, surrounded by all sides with rigid stone. I was alone for now, and I didn't know how long I would still be here. Wren had left some time ago with Chul, claiming he was finding ingredients for the burly phoenix's disguise among the rocks and stones. Something about a bashan root, whatever that was.

So I was left here in our hideaway, surrounded by a warding, earthen barrier that made anything within practically undetectable to the outside. When the two returned, we'd hitch a ride with a gigantes caravan, something the surly titan had only briefly explained the reasons for.

But until then, I could afford some testing.

I raised my hand, feeling the mana roiling within. So, so much mana. More than I'd ever sensed before. It moved nigh-instantly beneath my skin, manifesting without a second thought over my palm. Fire and sound collided, then solidified, forming a single sphere of compressed, golden plasma.

I can train for endless hours atop the Sea of my Soul, I thought, sensing how the energy swirled about me, different and the same. But unless I put it into practice in the real world, it remains nebulous and uncertain.

I'd tested some of this and more with Mordain, recognizing that my first priority was acclimating myself to my altered abilities. But to feel it, see it in the real world…

I stared down at the orb of power in wonderment, silently in awe at how much mana was packed into it. I'd needed Resonant Flow before to achieve such levels of concentrated power, but no longer. The amount of mana packed into this single little spot of starfire nearly matched my white-core level of reserves, and all without a single—

My emotions—which had at first been those of concentration and resolve—wavered to awe, and the spell abruptly flickered as my intent changed. The compressed weave of plasma brightened to silver-white, losing its edge.

Shoot, I thought, immediately catching my emotions. My usage of mana had always been tied to them, but never quite like this. My mana was my intent, and my intent was my mana. No longer was it just a byproduct of a mana core.

But that also meant that any change in how I felt would affect my spellcasting. The benefits were supreme: higher emotions meant hotter fires. My determination and drive made me all the more powerful, but a single spark of surprise could spell my end in combat if I was not careful.

But my greatest gift—the greatest advantage I'd gained since my apotheosis—wasn't even in that.

I clenched my fist, absorbing the mana back into my body, feeling excited and nervous at the same time. I sensed the utterly absurd amounts of mana roiling across my body, no longer centralized in my core, but simply free-flowing and moving. Fire and sound and pure mana danced along and outside the currents of my lifeforce, no longer bound by mana veins or channels. No longer was I compacted into an egg and wound about myself in confusing, intricate loops.

I held out my hands, conjuring a shrouded spirit over them. Talons grew, sharpened, and elongated in glimmering white-gold. The feathered runes that constantly overlaid my skin detached, coating my translucent armor instead. I felt the mana within the sharp armor, no different from my normal flesh.

"I am a living mana core," I whispered contemplatively, feeling how the energy strengthened my body. My Shrouded Spirit augmented each action, subtle yet undeniable telekinetic forces pulling my blows forward. But beyond that, there was something even more special about the heartfire-latticed plates of mana. "And I can scale myself as much as I wish."

My Shrouded Spirit morphed, shifting and extending into a shrouded saber. The edge gleamed wickedly in the darkness, illuminated only by the still runes. And it was a part of me: an extension of myself in every way. And that included Integration.

With a bare flex of my will, the ambient mana began to flow inward, coaxed along by my regalia. But the mana didn't flow toward me; it coursed toward my blade, the ember-orange runes brightening as it greedily absorbed all it could.

I didn't realize I was grinning until the muscles around my jaw started to ache a little. But who could blame me? A mana core I could hit someone with! I'd never heard of something so outright novel! Aurora would love to—

Aurora. My thought stuttered, then ground to a halt. My spellcrafting crumbled, my attention stolen from me. The stake through my heart hurt all the more.

Right. Aurora had always been there to help me test my magic, but now…. Now I had to do it on my own. I absorbed the mana back into my body, suddenly somber. The shadows on the wall seemed that much darker, the earth that much heavier.

"I don't know if I'll ever run out of mana again," I whispered, wishing my violin were not burned. Wishing I could express this in some other way than hunched defeat. "But you're not here to see that, are you?"

Aurora had been the one to first teach me the arts of combat, mana manipulation, plasma arts, everything. She'd been there so long ago when I'd first tested my crest, watching over me as a guardian angel.

Back then, I'd been awed by pushing a rock. By killing skaunters. She must have thought it so amusing. But now, what couldn't I do? What couldn't I do, except bring her back?

She should be able to see me now, I thought, feeling like a pathetic sack of limp flesh. She will see it. I won't let her go.

My mother's body currently slept within my dimension ring, barely able to rest comfortably with the space afforded. I longed to give her something more comfortable. Something that didn't remind me that she wasn't breathing. That she wasn't here. That—

"Brother!" a voice boomed, ripping through my misery like fire scorched through paper. "Brother, the time is nigh! You must witness it!"

I blinked, pulling myself up. I shivered, suddenly aware of how cold I'd been, like I'd been lying naked in the snow for too long. I took a moment, pushing away my emotions for the time. I could deal with them later. Some other time that wasn't now.

Chul stood tall and proud at the entrance of the cave, his shoulders bulky as ever, their existence vehemently rebelling againstin denial of the concept of "doorways." A massive grin was plastered on his face, his emotions vibrating with warm, childish excitement. But his eyes and hair—they'd changed. No longer did I stare into pure lake blue and volcano-heart red.

His eyes were a duller brown, now. I felt a pang of loss staring into his hopeful eyes, the contact lenses masking the truth.

Strange, I thought, slowly rising to my feet. Whenever I thought of Burim's Breaking, all I thought of were blue and orange. Why should I think it such a loss?

"Witness what?" I muttered, my eyes darting to the opening of the cave behind him. "Are they here? Wren said they would be, and it appears you've got things covered on your end."

As my emotions had dipped, I'd lost control of my constantly active Sonar Pulse, so I hadn't sensed Chul approaching until he was here. I would have to be more vigilant, more in control.

Chul marched down, practically vibrating with excitement. He ran a hand through his hair—now dyed a deep brown—and clasped me on the shoulder. "Indeed, Toren! I now bear hair the color of the dirt itself! I wish it were not so! I find these clothes loose and stuffy, too. It is the greatest of travesties."

The phoenix was dressed in an outfit I would have expected to see out of ancient times. A lightly-colored shirt clung to his chest, accentuating his build and leaving his arms mostly bare. Overtop it, a tunic of loose cloth was fastened to his shoulder, before spreading down and draping near to his knees. A belt fastened it at his midriff, which he was currently scratching at with subconscious irritation. Bronze-colored bracers accentuated his forearms and shins, contrasting the overall bright palette, before simple sandals with wraps completed his outfit.

Chul looked like some sort of heroic figure taken from the epic poems of my previous world, ready to do battle with mythic beasts and tangle with capricious gods. But evidently, he didn't really care. The half-phoenix flapped his arms, clearly agitated by the slightly limited range of movement afforded by his new clothing. "I wish I were dressed as you, brother! These robes are itchy and uncomfortable. Wool does not become me."

I chuckled lightly, looking down at my own clothing. Indeed, I was—for the first time in a long time—wearing something approaching martial robes. With a vest colored a deeper orange, a light tunic, and dark, breathable pants, I looked every bit the martial artist. The hilt of Inversion was masterfully covered and disguised, appearing as just ornamentation among my clothing. A sash the color of spilled blood tied it together around my waist, before streaming off. A scarf-like cloak adorned my shoulders, wrapping round and round before draping across my chest and back.

A small, furred head popped out of one of the pockets of Chul's simple tunic. A mink, complete with dark fur, angry eyebrows, and a dark stubble beneath its chin, jumped to the ground, chittering in annoyance.

"Stop scratching at your chiton, oaf!" Wren Kain, eminent titan craftsman, powerful inventor, and living deity ground out. I stared down at the mink, feeling the dissonance in my head grow wider as it glared up at us. "You're supposed to be a titan, now. That means you wear our clothing and you look comfortable in it."

In the classical plays from my previous life, there had been the concept of Deus Ex Machina. God in the Machine, a nod to how the deities of the old comedies would descend out of nowhere in great clockwork constructs from the top of the stage, rescuing the errant hero from their fates when there was no other way out.

Chul certainly looked the part of an old, wayward demigod. And we weren't so lucky to have a god in the machine. Instead, we got one in the fur.

Chul looked with uncertainty down at his hands. "I do not know what it means to be a titan asura," he mumbled, his emotions radiating over his intent. "Neither do I know how to make such a farce as this. It feels dishonest. It would be better were I able to shapeshift as you, Worker of Wonders. But I cannot: the impurity of my blood bars such talents. I am sorry."

The mink was silent for a time, and I sensed a lance of sympathy streak through Wren's intent. Something deeply personal welled to the surface, burning just beneath. His heartfire—which was harder to detect in this form—dipped low, too. "It doesn't matter that you can't make yourself small," the little furred creature muttered, the bags under his eyes deepening for a bit. "You're fine, oaf. Nothing wrong with that. Just leave the negotiating to Spellsong and we'll be fine."

Wren took that opportunity to dart closer to me, then scurry up my leg and mesh himself within the folds of my scarf-like cloak, hidden perfectly from sight. "Now, we need to get moving. The gigantes approach."

I spared the transformed titan a subtle glance, even as Chul whooped with delight, rushing back out the cave entrance, waiting there like a coiled spring.

Wren didn't look at me, still internally gnawing on whatever pain the half-phoenix's words had brought up.

Time to go, then, I thought. Then I should put the last touches on my disguise.

I sighed, then rolled my shoulders, looking inward. With a clench of my heart, I restricted the flow of my heartfire ever-so-slightly, stalling my lifeforce as it arced higher. My long hair, tied into a ponytail—which was a vibrant red—withered to an ashen gray as it lost its sustenance. The runes covering my entire body dimmed slightly as I focused, pushing myself away in a manner I found hard to define.

I had never been an illusionist with sound mana, like Aya Grephin or Viessa Vritra. I didn't have the talent for it in the way they did. But with minimum effort of will, I allowed a simple distortion over my forehead: a line that appeared like an eternally closed eye. A slight nudge from Wren's earth mana smoothed over the inaccuracies, helping to sell the lie. Wren's magic also brushed against some of my other facial features, making them squarer and less angular, adding slight scars and blemishes as it wove together with my sound magic, his earth magic giving substance to the substanceless.

"Illusions aren't difficult," Wren muttered, perched beneath my cloak. "Maintaining them is. Keeping it perfect and undetectable… That is where you can't mess up, Spellsong."

It was like keeping my fist constantly clenched. Not necessarily hard, but just like every other aspect of my magic now, I couldn't let myself falter in any way.

The end result? Instead of an obvious phoenix, now I looked like a pantheon warrior. A very specific kind of warrior, as suggested by Wren himself.

Chul blinked as he looked back at me, seeming surprised by my disguise. His eyes drifted to my long, ash-gray hair, before he shook his head, dismissing the thought we both had. The same that I'd felt when I'd seen his new eyes. "Come, brother! You must witness their majesty. Never have I seen any beast so vast!"

I followed the phoenix-turned-titan, exiting the cave and rising into the sky, wondering what I'd see. Wren had given me a bit of a rundown on what to expect. Nomadic sylph asura headed massive caravans, going wherever their beasts of burden took them. This time of year, the gigantes—massive mana beasts that the sylphs herded—would be trekking eastward toward the River Suda for some sort of volcanic ash substance that they persisted off of, which was exactly where Wren's storage caches were. Our first stop.

We both ascended into the air, the wind buffeting me as a nigh-endless expanse of mesas and chiseled canyons snaked around the landscape. Whereas Darv was all sand and howling dust storms, the Aborshan Wastes of Epheotus were closer to an unending monument to Mother Nature's ability to stand against the elements. Layered rock rose high into the sky every place I looked, as if in defiance of the weathering erosion of the wind. Littered all across the rocks, I could spy sandstone ruins that had been shattered in turn.

You try to break us down, those great mesas proclaimed,. bBut still, we stand. Our layers are torn and battered, but still, we stand. The works of those that came before? Their carcasses lay shattered across us. They thought to match us in their hubris, and now only their bones remain.

My eyes lingered on a distant archway, my mind slowing for a moment. On Eearth, I'd expect the oldest ruins to be five thousand years old. Maybe six thousand at most. But these… these ancient spires, the shattered spine of some ancient civilization, puffing mana around like polluting fog…

How many tens of thousands of years old is each block I see? I wondered. How many hundreds of thousands?

"So, Chul," I said, forcing my thoughts away from unanswerable questions. I turned in the sky, trying to spot some sort of movement. "Where exactly are these beasts you're so excited about?"

The phoenix grinned, wrapping a jovial arm around my shoulder, before turning me to the side. He pointed exuberantly with his other, gesturing at the ground a little ways in front of us.

I was confused at first, not getting what he was trying to convey. But then, I listened. Heard the heartbeats, focused my mana sense on the area… And my eyes finally resolved the anomaly. And though I'd been subtly awed by the ruins all around me, whispers of ancient cities now long gone and swallowed by the stones, what greeted my eyes made me forget even that.

In my previous life on Earth, the largest creature known to man was the blue whale.

At one hundred feet in length, it dwarfed anything else that had ever graced the Eearth. The depths of the sea allowed a level of gigantism never before seen. Even in the half a billion or so years prior that dry land had embraced the strangeness that was life, nothing had risen that was larger. Not even the greatest of the dinosaurs had managed to approach its size, and the lumbering, somber king of the sea yet retained its crown.

Since I'd arrived in this world, I'd only grown to appreciate such scale even more. For all that earth lacked magic—or, maybe it did have ki?—this world bursting with mana beasts and monsters couldn't take that crown from a supposedly mundane counterpart. All the mana and magic in the world couldn't take the blue whale's mantle, won over millions of years of fraught evolution.

In fact, the only creature I had ever met that was larger was artificial: the terrible flesh amalgam of the Undead Zone. The final, serpentine leviathan of rotting flesh that had barred the Unblooded Party and so many others—where I'd first unlocked my ability to use heartfire and I'd learned who I was—had been the largest creature I had ever met, capable of wrapping itself leisurely around a mimicry of the Empire State Building. Like an anaconda slowly strangling its victim, the gargantuan beast was still a looming shadow in my dreams, a reminder of the scale of the world.

But finally, I found something that wasn't so small in comparison. My jaw fell open in utter awe as the truth revealed itself to me.

"Isn't it wondrous?!" Chul bellowed, clasping me tight, laughing as he was wont to do.

What I had first thought were mesas, on closer inspection, were walking monoliths of living stone. Half a dozen of them, all in a meandering line, each at least fifteen stories tall. They reminded me a bit of bison, except the snouts of the things were too long, the legs too thin, and their bulk nearer to the top. They had no visible fur, just unending plates of stone armoring their titanic forms. I struggled to distinguish flesh from rock, spines of blocky keratin extending all along their trundling bodies.

They trudged through canyons in slow-moving lines, utterly unbothered by any bit of stone that was in their path. Whenever they reached a bit of stone that jutted out from the canyon walls, they didn't divert at all—simply plowed on through, inexorable and undaunted.

This high up, it was harder to distinguish the tiny details, but as my gaze panned along the rest of the mazelike network of criss-crossing canyons extending as far as the eye could see, I felt an answer to a question I'd never even asked.

"Holy shit," I muttered, astonished. Those canyons weren't carved by running water at all as I'd subconsciously assumed, but by these gargantuan beasts as they marched on through.

"Yes, yes," Wren muttered, poking his mink head out of my scarf-cloak and glaring down at the gigantes. "If you keep gawking, you'll catch terror-flies. Did Aurora never teach either of you manners?"

I forced my jaw to snap shut, remembering my current situation. "Chul, keep close," I said, angling more toward the beasts. "I'll do the talking."

The disguised phoenix nodded, and then began to follow me as I descended down toward the lumbering beasts. As I got closer, I was able to better make out details about them. There were six, all traveling forward in a shuffling line that moved deceptively quickly. The beast's soulful croons sounded like warhorns, shaking the earth and sending tremors across my body.

And their slow, rumbling intent, radiating outward… It was perfect for what we needed, exactly as Wren had predicted.

Three asura rose to meet us as we approached, gliding through the winds with hardly a care. I knew immediately that three of them were sylphs: their flighty, indistinct heartbeats and nebulous mana signatures told me as much. With my lifeforce vision, I could see veins of cloudy blue streaming across their entire bodies. Their skin was outwardly the color of the sky all around us, nearly invisible against the backdrop. If it weren't for their almostnearly-glowing hair—whiter than snow itself—I might have thought they were part of the sky itself.

They're not nearly as defined in physique as any other asura I've met, I thought with intrigue, facing the rising gusts of wind. They still have bodies… physical Vessels… But it's more like they inhabit a gas rather than a solid.

"Hello, travelers!" the sylph at the front said, a man with a build that could generously be called portly. His eyes twinkled with laughter at everything they saw, and though the canyons far below weren't truly created through weathering, I knew the lines across his face were the work of countless smiles.

"The winds granted nothing of your arrival. That can only mean it is fortuitous, no? A fine day for a jaunt in the skies!" He grinned at me, flashing teeth as white as his hair. His retinue floated about absently around him, inspecting both Chul and me with open curiosity. "A pantheon and a titan, alone in the sky? It sounds like something from a bard's tale."

"May your winds be fair, clanlord," I said, bowing slightly to show respect. I let my gaze wander across the air, before returning it to the sylph. "Nothing so grand as a bard's tale, though it is a story in and of itself."

The other two sylphs each held spears that glowed with blue runes. The first one had a beard that flowed like cumulus clouds, idly tapping his finger against the shaft of his weapon. The other was a stately woman who seemed about ready to fly right back down to their nomadic home, already bored with the conversation. Their clothes were like nothing I'd ever seen, either: wisps of cloth that seemed to float about them in unconnected weaves and strands of blue and white and yellow. Hardly clothing at all, but it somehow managed to always leave them covered.

"My companion is Arjuna of Clan Promethes. I would offer you my name as well, but it comes at a price. Only my friend has earned it." I tilted my head slightly. "In fact, that is why we hope for leisurely travel to Ecclesiah. We have both found our weapons shattered, though not by any fault of their craftsmanship."

It was a solid lie: the gigantes, according to Wren, wouldn't walk past the Aborshan Wastes. Ecclesiah wasn't that far from the edge, and was just as likely to be our destination as anything else. None present needed to know our true destination was Klethra.

Chul spared me a glance, sensing his part in the play. "That only means we must forge better ones!" he boomed, the volume of his voice making the sylphs visibly tremor. He slammed a fist into his chest, smiling even wider than the clanlord. "The City of the Leviathan shall grant us all the succor we desire! My brother in battle shall have a blade that will see him to the end of his journeys!"

The clanlord's intent was far more focused than his guards' as his cloudy brows narrowed, absorbing Chul's words. He noted my martial attire, slightly dirty, and the reserved way I held myself. "You walk the path of the Yaksha," he murmured, intrigued. "It has been a few centuries since I met a Wandering Warrior… Ah, but I almost forgot to introduce myself! I am known as Lo of Clan Phrain among my people. I am honored to meet one traveling such a timeworn tradition. Tell me, how close are you to reclaiming your name?"

I let a slight smile cross my face. "Twenty more trials," I lied. "I have been somewhat lax in taking what steps are required of me."

The path of the Yaksha was one undertaken by young pantheons who sought to prove themselves as warriors. By battling a hundred foes and emerging—victorious or not—from each trial, they tested their mettle, but they weren't allowed to claim their name till their final battle.

Something about becoming only a weapon. Names were a source of identity and self. If one sought to be a weapon, they must be cast aside.

I surveyed the gathered sylphs. "Are any willing to volunteer for another trial?"

The other asura abruptly focused on me again, a slight tension radiating through their bodies. Though they carried spears, I could tell immediately that they weren't warriors of any note—more of a token force against any who might mean the nomads harm.

"Pardon for the rudeness, Venerable Yaksha," Lo said, bobbing up and down in the air slightly, "but you know of our wandering homes, as we know of your wandering blade. Ours is a place of leisure and peace for all who would approach, so long as they observe customs and learn to let themselves go. If you wish to join us for a time, you are more than welcome! But we cannot have battles among our many guests. You understand?"

Wren had explained this about these nomadic travelers; the last of a dying breed. Old sylph clans who had never quite acclimated to the sedentary lifestyle demanded by the Indraths, they remained with their lumbering beasts, laughing with the wind and greeting any traveler warmly. Their lumbering taverns had become a hubbub of trade, activity, and interaction. A novelty in lives that had long ago lost all novelties.

That didn't mean they were foolish in welcoming their guests, either.

I sensed the other sylphs trying to inspect my mana signature warily. If I had tried to suppress it in the usual way, it would have been impossible. With my Integrated nature, I couldn't hide it at all. My emotions would always radiate from me, no matter what I tried.

But I could mask it. And very, very few knew how to sense intent on its deepest levels, nor could they manipulate it like I could.

So when these asura tried to test my mana signature, they found only dull fog. Half the reason Wren had suggested we shelter with these rumbling gigantes in the first place was because their mana signatures provided me the perfect cover. By evening out my emotions and matching them to that of the colossal beast down below, it became that much harder to sense the truth.

And to the untrained eye, one might even think of Mirage Walk.

"That is understandable," I replied after a moment, projecting disappointment. Chul, for his part, did look genuinely forlorn. I got the sense he would have enjoyed sparring with the asura around. "I shall keep my practices to myself while under your protection. I have never traveled with one of your nomadic groups before. I suspect it will be a learning experience."

Lo's eyes widened in genuine dismay at my words. He shook his head, drifting forward and clasping me amiably by the shoulder. His fingers felt cold—almost damp. But I could sense that no moisture lingered on my skin. "Friend, you have not known the joy of life! Come, we shall show you true sylphan hospitality! We have food! Drink! And other substances that fit a category all on their own! Mayhaps you'll even realize the folly of trying to battle everything in your way, hmm?"

Within my cloak, Wren shuffled irritably, muttering something about uncaring sylphs and hallucinogens. I did him the favor of suppressing it with sound magic.

"Then we'll be in your care."