Leylin seemed to be in a good mood today, and Rane decided to keep it that way. He’d play along for now. The fruit he'd been given was hard to bite into, and dry, but its sweet taste was divine compared to the usual slop. He felt guilty then, for surrendering to the weakness warm bread and fresh fruit had offered, even if momentarily. No way he could enjoy anything while the rest of his companions suffered. He set them aside.

Leylin shook his head and stood from the plank with a grunt. "Come," he said. "Since you’re not hungry, I'll teach you some of the basics myself."

Rane grunted and chose to follow Leylin to the palm tree’s shadow.

“I’ve been observing your progress for a while.” Leylin placed a hand on Rane’s chest. “Your soul is already so full of magic. Given the right circumstances, you’ll be able to spark.”

Rane inched away from Leylin’s hand. “Meaning?”

“Your true potential has yet to be unlocked. The requirements are vastly different for everyone, but after amassing enough experience and nora, the soul undergoes a qualitative change. We call it sparking. There’s the apprentice level, which is where you are now. An infantile state that only paves the way to being a mage, or perhaps one day, an archmage.”

Rane didn’t plan to answer, but Leylin waited, staring at him expectantly. He shrugged. “What changes then, when I spark?”

“As an apprentice, you can only cast basic spells. Tricks that toy with nora to affect your surroundings, like that ice of yours. Once you become a mage however, your unique form of magic will manifest itself, and you’ll be able to create your own spells. For example, Sydell’s origin magic gave him great control of temperature and fire, while mine lets me tinker with souls.” Leylin let that sink in. “Normally, this is the only way for mages to increase their potential.”

“Normally.” If Leylin was willing to teach him better ways to resist, he’d take it. “Does that mean there’s other paths?”

“There always are.” Leylin smirked. “Yours was carved at birth. You spoke with her ghost, didn’t you?”

Rane bit his lower lip. “I did. I learned that you hunt those like us. Empaths, she called us.”

“Not anymore,” Leylin replied. “I’ve learned all I could, drawn inspiration from mages like you. Would you like to see?” The dark aura returned around him, and a wisp of blue nora danced on his palm. “I can claim the magic of the dead for myself, just like you can. Unlike a true empath though, their nora doesn’t find a home within my soul. I can only use it once before it is lost. It also comes with some… baggage.” Parts of the blue mist came together to form a writhing face. It tried to rip itself free and Leylin winced.

“Their souls?” Rane felt a cold chill. All those things he had seen when Leylin went mad…

“Fragments of them.” Leylin let the nora slither back inside him. “The soul cannot exist independently. For it to retain its magic, I have to absorb the pieces of mind and body that are integral to the process."

"Why do you need me then, if you have that power yourself?"

“I mimic your power.” Leylin nearly chuckled. “To draw a soul’s power, I have to be near and expend some of my own strength. But you… The nora of the dead seeks you out on its own. Free of constraints. Free of anyone’s influence. Eternal.” He spoke about the grim magic with a passion. “Do you see now, why you’re the ultimate weapon in the case of war? Millions will die for you. If you can gain even a fraction of their magic--”

“Stop.” Rane didn’t want to hear any more. “I couldn’t even handle Sydell’s emotions. If you want me dead or mad, there are faster ways.”

"That’s why you have to be trained." Leylin wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Here, try to attack me. Show me how much you hate me."

Rane didn't have to be asked twice. He gathered a fair amount of nora to his fingertips and shaped it into flames before shooting it in Leylin’s direction.

"Pathetic." Leylin talked through the fire. It was like the flames couldn't even reach his skin. He whistled and motioned Dall over. The colour instantly drained from the man's face, but the oathbrand took hold and forced him to walk. Leylin slit his throat like it was nothing.

Rane stared at Dall’s body as it bled out and didn’t even react. Had he started to grow numb to it all? A small purple wisp curled up into the air, drawn to his body. He could feel it merging with his own soul, like a drop of colour in his ocean of grey. Tiny though it was, he could feel an inkling of the fear and despair the man had felt before he died, how powerless he was.

“Now try again.”

This tiny amount wouldn’t change anything. It was simply a show. Rane rallied all the hatred he felt and nora surged to his fingertips, raising the temperature of the flame. He pressed the power tight in his palms, until it became a gem of pure white. Maintaining the shape strained him and made the pressure mount in his head. This type of power left no room for hesitation or error. He turned to Leylin and relinquished control. The magic exploded in a deafening blast, flame wave smashing into Leylin full force.

Still, the fire didn’t reach Leylin’s clothes. “If you had done that the first time, he wouldn’t have to die.” The man bent down to grab a piece of misshapen glass that had formed under his feet.

“Spare them.” Rane clenched his fists. “They aren’t mages. Their nora is too little to make a difference.”

“I know.” Leylin motioned another slave over and had him kneel. “It’s their lives that hold value to you. That’s the true difference between us. That’s why you have that power.” The slave trembled, trying to fight back against his Oath.

“I can grow stronger on my own. I will be your soldier. Just… Please let them live.”

“Fine. You’ve shown me plenty. You can sleep outside the cell tonight. As for you...” Leylin turned to the slave. “Go round up the others. It’s getting dark and we still have distance to cover.” He waved and the man was free of his constraints, quickly scurrying away.

Rane cast a fleeting glance on Dall’s body as Leylin lifted it by the arms. He returned to the carriage with the other slaves under the sounds of bones being crushed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If only I’d been more forceful from the start…”

“It’s not your fault. You did all you could.” Shill placed a hand on his shoulder. Few others seemed to share the sentiment.

“Thank you.” Rane turned his head away from the stares and walked back outside. He’d take Leylin’s offer and sleep outside tonight, to clear up some more space for the others. With some difficulty, he settled on the wagon’s roof, resting his head on the supply bags.

After the slaves gathered up and the hauling beast finished its meal, the march through the desert continued. Even during the night, Rane could tell that the scenery changed the more they approached Danira. The few remaining slaves had to deal with bugs and the occasional rain instead of sand and heat. It was weird, how they’d groan and complain whenever it drizzled, but fell down to their knees and prayed in silence whenever the rain beat down on them during storms. Their bodies trembled in fear whenever lightning struck.

No matter if it was a storm or a drizzle, Rane cherished it. He’d close his eyes and lean his head back, letting the water wash over him for hours on end. It was like the sky and the world he’d missed for so long were reaching down to greet him, one cold touch at a time. The winds spoke to him at times, using the voice he’d been hearing in his head. He’d try to listen, but the words were too quiet and far to make out. As the days passed, Leylin treated him more and more like a human rather than a slave. That didn’t lessen his hatred for the man. He was allowed to sleep outside the cell, and the thought of killing Leylin passed through his mind many times. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to attempt it. Not because of cowardice, but because there were more lives than his own at stake. Yet that persistent thought tormented him and kept him up at night. And as he imagined all the different ways he could kill the man, he noticed.

Leylin never slept. He’d lie down still, but his eyes were always open and looking up at the sky. Sometimes Rane could hear him mumbling, speaking of freedom or Oaths he had sworn. Usually the whispers were too brief or sudden to understand, but tonight they were persistent, made Leylin’s body twist and jerk. The wood of the carriage creaked under the tight grip of his fingers. The same words kept slipping from his lips.

“I used to dream of death but now it dreams of me, and only ghosts and fraying gods can hear my silent plea.” He sang the verse over and over, like a prayer, and each time his magic would flare up and he’d groan from the pain. The sickly shivers brought on by the man’s nora denied Rane sleep as well.

In the dead of night, Leylin stood, torn from his rest entirely. Birdsong stopped. Insects grew silent. Rane turned around on the wet wood and watched him through half closed eyelids. Darkness swirled around the man, turbulent and dangerous. The low grass under his feet withered and crumbled to dust as he neared the cell.

Rane closed his eyes and reminded himself of his choice. He wouldn’t get involved anymore. Behave, look for a chance and minimise the losses. Still, when he heard the soft groan and muffled screams of a slave, something inside him stirred. Could this really be the right thing to do? Leylin dragged the slave away from the cell and pinned her against a tree branch.

The foliage fluttered in the wind, moonlight shining through in tiny pebbles. Rane could see the ashfen woman’s face frozen in silent terror, veins on her forehead already darkened. The black magic of the Oath exerted its power, yet Leylin held her by the throat still, forcing the breath from her lungs. A shadowy form crawled out of Leylin’s skin and latched onto hers. It was too dark for Rane to make out exactly what it was, but its effects were immediate. Even through Leylin’s grasp the woman groaned, her skin fraying and drying out. Large, parallel scars grew on her body, setting the blood free.

“Why didn’t you fight, brother?” The voice reached Rane as a whisper, barely audible. Leylin’s head twitched unnaturally, temple touching his shoulder. “We live like worms in the dirt because of you. Like animals!” His grip tightened and blood dripped from the woman’s mouth. “We fuck, make more worms and wait for the boot to squash us, doomed to know exactly when it comes.”

The ashfen struggled against him, fighting both her Oath and the darkness forming crosses on her skin. Rane closed his eyes when the fingers fell off her hand, but it was too late. The images of the woman suffering in the dungeon came flooding back, and with them, regret. He turned to Leylin once more, forcing himself to watch.

“You’re not allowed to die, you know? I can save us. I can make us immortal.” He leaned in close and whispered something into her ear. Then his grip tightened and the slave’s arms fell by her sides. Leylin stepped back and her body slipped down the tree’s bark.

Rane spent the night watching her body. The first rays of the morning sun found her there, silent and still. A growl from the hauling beast pulled the wagon ever onward towards Danira, another dead left in its path. Rane could hear the whispers and unrest from the cell behind him as the slaves woke to one of their own missing. The fewer they were, the more paranoid and desperate they became. He could see them glancing at him and Leylin from between the bars. Being allowed outside and on the coachman’s seat had cemented him as a traitor in their minds. Torien caught his gaze and approached him. Rane didn’t know what to expect. In a sense, the ashfen was right to hate him. It was only because of him that the slaves had to suffer.

The ashfen stared up at Rane incredulously. He pondered for a moment, before lifting up two fingers and turning them in the air. Then he sneaked a glance at Leylin and walked back to join the other slaves. Rane was late to realise. Torien wanted him to snatch the keys to the cell. He didn’t even have time to think before feeling Leylin’s hand on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

“I didn't plan to--"

Leylin pulled the reins back, bringing the beast to a sudden stop. He shoved Rane out onto the dirt and quickly followed, waving one of the slaves over as well. The man had learned not to resist his Oath by now, quickly walking to Leylin’s side.

“Where are you taking us this time?” Rane asked. Leylin seemed excited. That was rarely a good sign.

“We've reached the meeting place,” he said. “Come.” He moved ahead, leading the way between the forest.

Rane saw smooth stone between the trees and his heart skipped a beat. “What are we doing here?”

Leylin pulled a notebook from his pocket and snuck a glance at its pages. Silvery light reflected on his eyes. “We’re putting your mind at ease.”