I wasn’t getting anywhere.

A sigh slipped between my lips as I let the map fall through my fingers. With a shake of my head, the piece of intricately designed parchment folded back in on itself and shrunk as though as disillusioned by my efforts as I was.

The white flame crackled in disappointment. I shrugged it off, tucking the map into my pocket. I removed it from my view so that I didn’t have to feel any of the residual frustration.

Even though the map was unique—even though its designs felt natural to me as if done by my own hand, I hadn’t gotten much out of it. No matter how long I scoured the thing, I only came back with dregs of information at best. Thin threads that probably led to finished ideas later at some point.

Despite what I’d hoped for, the hand-drawn piece of paper that I’d picked up at Felix’s old house in Farhar didn’t depict much about the mountains. It had Norn, but there wasn’t much after that.

Most of the focus fell in the large section of the continent beyond the Forest of Secrets. There was far more detail in the wide plains, rolling hills, and sparse forests that were peppered with towns on that side of Ruia. Because apparently, that direction ultimately led to the World Soul.

Yet by the time the map got to possibly the most important point in the entire world, there was too much unknown. Too many of the landscapes were generalized at best and had labels that were replaced with question marks. There wasn’t enough well-defined material for my mind to latch onto.

Though, as I’d been looking over it through my lack of sleep, my mind had been drawn to one point. A section of the map near the World Soul’s label that was marked with only the letter x. For some reason, the white flame focused on that point. For some reason, it felt important.

But I couldn’t figure out why, and staring at it had just been a waste of time. So, shaking my head again, I flopped back down on my all too firm mattress.

A squeak of springs echoed through the room.

I cringed, shifting uncomfortably on the makeshift bed. It was more comfortable than sleeping on a thin bedroll against rough rock, but it paled in comparison to the luxury we’d lived in as guests of Norn.

Taking a silent breath, I flicked my eyes around to make sure none of my roommates had been disturbed by my brash movements. None of them stirred.

A near-silent sigh fell from my mouth.

Even though Ord would’ve easily been able to accommodate each person in our legion with their own space, they hadn’t. And the stocky officials we’d met on arrival hadn’t left much room for argument, either. So Lady Amelia had accepted it and just delegated rooms based on already-formed groups.

Watching the backing party I’d been left with, I couldn’t help a thin smile. Especially as my eyes fell on Kye.

Before everyone had settled down and all but passed out from exhaustion, Kye and I had talked again. Short and sweet. Her lips had found their way into a smile more often than a smirk.

But we had been marching all day, and we were all exhausted. At this point, she was out cold and I would’ve been surprised if any sound had been able to wake her up.

Rolling my head over to the side instead, I looked up. The shadowed wooden roof stared down at me, reminding me once again of the tower we were in. On the fourth floor of the inn, we still weren’t even halfway up.

The thought put a weak smile on my face, but I still couldn’t relax. I still laid restless, and the white flame wasn’t much different. With the map gone, it went back to trying to reconcile incompatible memories. And the more it did, the more something became painfully clear.

I needed some fresh air.

Before I knew it, I was rising from my bed. My eyes locked on the doorway to our room’s tiny balcony. One that led to the city at large.

Without doubting myself, I pushed away from my mattress, grabbed my sword, and walked out. Fastening the familiar weight on my waist, the nighttime breeze felt all that much better.

As the creaky wooden door slid shut behind me, I almost thought of a cloak. I almost sighed and pushed right back inside to bundle up against cold wind. But… it wasn’t cold. The rolling air could barely be described as brisk by this point.

Brown strands of hair floated away from my face. I smiled, stepping forward to drape my arms over the small balcony’s wooden railing.

My eyes dropped, falling past the elevated view of the stone-built city around me and all the way to the ground. All the way to the almost empty cobblestone streets that looked ripe for exploration.

I looked over to the ladder that was only a pace away. The one that cut into all of the balconies and was just one of the methods to get back to ground level. One of the methods I could use to escape my cramped room and roam the city at large, I reminded myself.

Before my cautious thoughts could stop me, I’d already grabbed hold of wooden rungs and started my descent into the silent night.

---

After walking aimlessly through the city of towers for a time somewhere between a few minutes and forever, my feet were starting to hurt. Despite the fact that I’d been restless, I was still fatigued from a day of marching.

But I couldn’t go back, I told myself. Not yet. The white flame was finally removing itself from the useless and frustrating task of trying to reconcile memories. It was finally indulging in wonder again.

So I looked for somewhere else to stop instead. Somewhere interesting enough to satisfy all parts of my mind. And after only another minute, I found exactly that.

Tucked between two tall structures that could’ve been anything from apartments to shopping complexes, I found a tavern. Or, I assumed it to be a tavern based on the sign at the front and the evidence of light from inside. Plus, at only four stories tall, it looked downright cozy in comparison to the rest of Ord.

I pushed right inside.

As soon as the door swung open, noise attacked my ears. It came as a series of grunts and muffled swears from somewhere to my right. Yet, as the door slammed shut behind me, none of the tavern’s patrons seemed to be saying a thing.

Out of the small group of men and women who were even drinking as late as it was, none of them made much more than a whisper. Most sat alone, in fact, at elegant high-end tables while nursing some expensive liquor.

No. They weren’t the source of the annoyingly boisterous clamor I’d heard. Nor was the barkeep, I decided as the tall woman in fanciful clothes flashed me a grin and glanced expectantly at the list of drinks above her.

I offered a weak smile before turning away and looking toward the true source of the noise. A wooden staircase pressed against the right wall.

At the top of the staircase, an open wooden doorway led to an upper loft. A loft that, as I briefly scanned what I could see of it, put the slight luxury of the tavern below to shame. With what I could see of its furniture and shelves full of trinkets, it reminded me of something relegated to only the most materialistic of scholars.

I didn’t get all that much time to think about it, though.

“Let us in, dammit!” a short and obviously drunk man yelled at the top of the stairs. He threw off the grabbing arms of the man and the woman behind him to charge toward the doorway. When he got there, though, he only met resistance on the air. His fists banged against nothing.

“Why d’you get to go in?” the drunk woman asked as she regained her balance.

The short man wheeled backward, his eyes wide. “‘Cause I’ve been wanting this space for months now! It ain’t fair that some sod in an expensive robe can sweep it from under me!”

The woman jerked her head back, blinking for a moment before curling her lip. “What? Months? I’ve been a regular ‘ere for years, Durgal.”

“Have ya been yearning for the room though, Rita?” The short man became red-faced as he once again bashed his fist on solid air. “Have ya?”

“Could both of you shut up?” somebody new said.

I turned to see the barkeep staring up at the group. Even from paces and paces away, I could see the pure exasperation and simmering fury on her face.

“We can, Shia,” the short man said. “But not until these lot”—he gestured to the two other members of the bickering party—“recognize why I get this space.”

The barkeep clenched her jaw. “None of you are going to get that space. I’ve told you that hundreds of times already.”

“Now that is bullshit,” the woman on the steps said. Her armor was the same kind that the officers of Ord I’d already met with had been wearing. “Why does some rich—”

Shia didn’t let her finish. “No. You don’t get to rattle off all of your envious adjectives. Just get off my staircase and stop causing unneeded commotion or I won’t be serving any of you ever again.”

The third man who still sat further down on the steps nearly tripped on himself. He hiccuped a single time. “Really?”

The barkeep raised an eyebrow as some of the anger fled her eyes. “Well, you all—”

“You’re about as serious about your threats as y’are about respect!” the short man yelled. In the corner of my eye, I could see the other, calmer patrons staring on in annoyance.

“The person who rented the rest of the building’s space for the day isn’t someone I could say no to,” Shia said. Despite the admission, she stood completely firm.

The woman named Rita scrunched her nose. “Ain’t he just rich?”

Shia snorted. “Right. Like some random rich guy could keep city guards out of his room while the door was still all the way open.”

Rita’s face contorted further. She opened her mouth to respond and then snapped it shut.

The short man beside her, however, looked a little too drunk for contemplation and tried to barge through the resistant air again. “Rich or not, he has no right to be in there!”

“Actually, he does,” Shia said. “He paid more than you did, you know. More than you could possibly pay, I imagine.”

“What? How does that even—”

“For the world’s sake,” came a new voice. This one drifted in on lighter air and echoed with exactly enough intensity to capture everyone’s attention. Even the quiet, uninterested drinkers looked up at the loft above. “I am too busy to properly deal with this. Could someone deal with these idiots for me?”

I blinked, straightening up at the question and squaring my shoulders. My fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword as I thought.

Scanning the group, I was certain that I would’ve been able to deal with them. They all looked intoxicated enough that their sturdy armor and ready weapons didn’t matter much. I didn’t doubt my chances of being able to knock them down a few pegs.

The real question was… would I?

“If somebody does it swiftly and without disturbing me any further, I’ll reward them, I suppose.”

My eyebrows shot up at that. The white flame flickered its own interest. I glanced up toward the open doorway that the voice had sounded through, a smile growing on my face. Then I glanced back at the drunken group as my previous question repeated back.

Yeah, I decided, why not?

The irritated barkeep stepped forward and leaned over to grab what I had to assume would be a weapon. But before she could do anything she didn’t need to, I’d already stepped up and waved a hand. After I inclined my head toward the drunken party and gestured to the sword on my waist, she calmed. Then rolled her eyes and went back to business.

“So,” I started as I came up to the staircase. “You’re all too drunk to listen to reason?”

“Will anybody else listen to reason?” the short man asked. “Why does—”

My hand was already up. “Thank you for answering my question.” I visibly tightened my grip on the blade at my side. The short man paled and stepped back, only running into the impermeable air. “Alright, I’m here as a guest in your city. I don’t want to do anything that would ruin my favor, but you all are quite the nuisance.”

The woman named Rita sneered. “We’re the nuisance?”

I tilted my head, blinking rapidly. “Yes. You three. The only ones screaming in this entire room.”

She opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it. Her shorter companion, however, appeared much more brash. At least while he was drunk, that was.

His hand fell to the sword by his waist.

“Only because we’re the only ones with a reason,” he said, already strolling down the stairs toward me. Watching his smug expression, I was sure he thought he was being suave.

He wasn’t.

“Well, you’re also city guards,” I said. Unconsciously, some bitterness seeped into my tone. “You could have a little more integrity rather than disrupting a public place.”

The man glared at me, pushing past his friends on the stairs and unsheathing his sword. Flicking my eyes to it, I noted that it was only a shortsword. Fitting, I mused.

“And you have no business telling us what to do,” he said.

I sighed. “I have business reminding you of common sense.” I had to restrain myself from cursing the man out right there. Even though I’d been restless, I was still tired. His cocky attitude wasn’t helping.

“Is that the kind of ‘common sense’ that you’d be willing to prove?” he asked. The rhetorical sarcasm dripping from his voice was downright frustrating. My groan didn’t even account for the fact that he was now practically shoving a blade in my face.

I didn’t waste time taking my own sword out and pushing his away. That simple action seemed to infuriate him more than anything. Though, I wasn’t sure if he was angry at me or just angry in general.

Either way, it had the same effect.

He lunged, stumbling down the last few steps and swinging his sword at me. I ducked it easily and brought my blade up for a counter-attack. Instead of dodging, he stupidly tried to block without any leverage.

I pushed down until our eyes met. His widened. I kept my cool, only fueled on by the white flame’s amusement at the scene. After a moment, the short man appeared to get an idea. His pursed lips curled into a grin, and he shuffled away.

Simply raising an eyebrow, I let him get away. In the corner of my eye, I kept track of the other two guards who were now just looking on in vague disappointment.

I smiled. The man twisted, nearly tripping over his own feet, and slashed at my side. I brought my blade from underneath and pushed his away at the most unnatural angle that I could. The grunt of pain that I heard as his wrist wrenched on the hilt was already enough for me.

With his blade out of commission, I almost wanted to continue. But truly, I was too tired for the game.

My blade shot out over his face and left a shallow cut through the hair at the side of his head. He yelped and leapt backward, almost dropping the shortsword before staring back at me. I gave him the same blank, unimpressed look.

He gawked for a second. Then he huffed, rolled his eyes as though I wasn’t worth his time, and marched out the door. A chuckle from the barkeep rang sweetly against my ears.

Turning back to the other two drunken guards, I raised my sword. Neither of them were interested in putting up a fight. They lifted their hands and stumbled down the steps quietly.

“Good,” the calm, eccentric voice from before said. I looked up, my eyes narrowing on the doorway that none of the guards had been able to pass. “Whoever did that—thank you. If you want your… reward... come get it, I suppose.”

I took half a step back. The white flame burned hot with curiosity. And the thought of it returning to idle working in the back of my head was enough to push me forward up the stairs.

Sheathing my blade as I went up the last step, I hesitated. I squinted at the doorway that appeared open. But from what I’d seen, it was everything but.

“Come in,” the voice said. Softer this time instead of echoing through the space. It was almost like the man was whispering straight into my ears.

I suppressed a shudder as I walked over the threshold. Surprisingly, it let me through without a fuss and allowed my attention to bleed back into wonder while I scanned the room.

As I’d seen from below, the large loft-like space was decorated even more luxuriously than the already high-end tavern. Instead of polished chairs and high-tables, it had elegant drapings and cloth furniture.

Yet with only one person residing within, most of that furniture was used for storage. Because the whole space was packed with… things. Trinkets, ornaments, decorations, pieces of paper—there was a summary of an entire culture all stuffed into a single room.

And as I walked carefully toward the silver-haired man wearing casual clothes in the middle of it all, I didn’t miss the unmistakable tinge of magic, either.

“Ah, yes,” the man said, flashing me a smile. His eyes sparkled with charm. After glancing me over once, he flicked his eyes over the eclectic room for something. “I did promise a reward, didn’t I?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You did.”

In truth, I didn’t care much about a reward. But with the white flame floating in the forefront of my mind and my own curiosity burning almost as bright, I didn’t want to just leave. If I was going to be up anyway, I figured I would get something out of it as well.

“I, ah,” the man said, his face flushing. “There are a lot of things around here, but I am not sure exactly what I can part with. Perhaps I could...” He trailed off as his eyes locked on me. They narrowed as though studying my clothes.

“You could what?” I asked, my tired irritation showing through.

“I could…” He didn’t finish again. Instead, he smiled. “You’re a ranger, aren’t you?”

Instinctively, I took a step back. My brows pulled together and I grasped for the hilt of my blade. The silver-haired man in expensive robes curled his lips further with each passing moment.

“Yeah,” I finally said through my teeth. The man’s features lit up, and he twirled a small glass diamond in his fingers. My face scrunched as he raised it up.

“Don’t fret,” he said. The air lightened even more for a moment as a burst of flame pushed from his finger and into the diamond. Inside, the flame stayed burning as if fueled by nothing. “I can only tell because of your uniform. Not many organizations in Ruia are as distinct as the Rangers of Sarin.”

My lips slipped open, words ready at my tongue. But before I could get anything out, the man spun the orange flame encased in glass on the tip of his finger. Then, he simply threw it into the air.

I fell silent as I watched, a cringe already rising.

Yet the glass diamond didn’t go crashing to the floor. Instead, it floated like it was the most natural thing in the world and gravitated toward a corner of the room.

“What the…” I muttered to myself. The white flame draped itself over my skull and focused on the world around me. Intently, I realized. Whatever I’d walked into was far more interesting than memories in the back of my head.

I sighed, resolving to humor it for a little longer at the least. “How did you—”

“I have been many places,” the man interrupted. The smooth lightness to his voice drifted throughout the magically-tinged room. “If you know of a city on this continent, there is a highly reasonable chance that I have been to it.” He leaned back on his fancy couch. “I visited Sarin a while back, when it was a small town. I even met with the woman who founded the Rangers, in fact.”

I swallowed dryly. “You met Lorah?”

The man tilted his head. “Lorah. That was her name.” He chuckled. “Yes. A bright one, she was. But it seems that even since then, the ranger outfit has not changed in the slightest.”

I couldn’t help myself. I smiled back, rolling my shoulders and feeling the familiar blue cloth brush against my skin. Then, however, my eyes narrowed. The rational part of my brain screamed something at me as I studied the man.

After a second of silence, the dots began to connect. “You’re…” The man shot an eyebrow up and inclined his head. I cleared my throat. “You’re a Vimur, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly, his grin widening. “What tipped you off?”

I sniffed, feeling the tingle in my lungs. Magic. A lot of it. Then my eyes flicked to the floating crystals of fire at the corners of the room. “Is that even a question?”

He laughed. “Perhaps not. It is just interesting that your first guess was correct.”

The white flame flickered in understanding. A kind of understanding that stemmed from a fractured memory I wasn’t able to fully see. My brow furrowed. “Well, part of the reason our legion stopped in Ord at all was to receive assistance from a Vimur.”

The Vimur was already shaking his head in amusement. “Indeed you did. Though, it is not as if I am hiding my presence.” He chuckled as he straightened up and cupped hands in his lap. “I am a Vimur—one of the many. My name is Raymaer.” Before I could ask, his hand was up. “It is an ancient name, and most around the mountain states prefer shorter handles anyway. Ray will do fine.”

I nodded. “I’m Agil.”

He smiled. “I know. I have actually—”

“You’re Marc’s contact, then?” I asked, taking my turn to interrupt. “The one that is supposed to support our legion?”

The man—Ray, he’d said—nodded. “I am. My relationship with Marc goes quite a ways back, and I—”

“Wait,” I said in a low tone. My eyes flicked to the still-open doorway. “Is this information…”

Ray shook his head. “If something I say is not meant for certain ears, it does not have to reach those ears.”

My head bobbed slowly. I walked forward some more and slumped my shoulders, trying to force myself to relax. With the white flame flickering in the back of my head and the eccentric man in front of me, I wasn’t keen on messing anything up.

“What kind of favor did Marc have to call in to get the assistance of a Vimur for our legion?” I asked, pushing for further understanding. That was part of the reason for this whole trip, after all. “And what kind of assistance can our legion even expect?”

Ray chuckled, his features softening. Without even looking, he reached for another glass diamond and began sparking a flame within it. “The kind of assistance that you will not regret having.” He threw the glass diamond to float in the air. “As well as the kind that does not put me in direct danger of dragons again.”

I blinked, my face contorting. “Again?”

The Vimur stopped and raised his eyebrows. Watching my narrowed eyes, he laughed nervously. “Yes. Again. I can tell you from experience that dealing with dragons is not enjoyable.”

I curled my lip. “Why did you have to interact with dragons at all?”

“Have to?” he asked with a sigh. “I didn’t have to. But it was important.” He leaned forward. “This connects to Marc’s favor, actually. A little over a month ago, while I was experimenting in Veron, I needed a certain… catalyst that I was not properly able to retrieve.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A catalyst?” The white flame flared at the mention, excitement sparking in its core. It was familiar with the term, then.

“Ah, yes,” Ray said. “A catalyst. A jumping off point, if you will. I needed a dragon scale but was wholly unequipped to get one. And I already had a favor with Marc—so I requested that he retrieve one for me.”

“A dragon scale?” a voice asked. I blinked, barely recognizing as my own while my mind spun. My conceptions about dragons rose up, and I shuddered at even the thought of trying to collect one of their scales.

“Yes,” Ray continued. “Reluctantly, he agreed to my request. Due to past troubles, he was already inclined in some sense.” My eyelids flitted rapidly and I opened my mouth, but Ray didn’t let me get a word in. “The target was a dragon, however. Marc lost the lives of some of his best knights—as well as the now-insane one who actually brought back the scale.”

My blood ran cold. Even with Ray’s light tone, the horror of the situation he so casually described seeped into my mind.

“Why did you need…” I hesitated. “One of those in the first place?”

Ray scrunched his nose a fraction. His smile stayed carefully light. “As a catalyst. I said that al—”

“No,” I said firmly. “That’s not what I meant. What kind of experimentation requires a dragon scale for a catalyst?”

The Vimur’s eyes flashed dangerously, but his expression didn’t lose its cheer. “Experimentation that is not for the faint of mind.” His face tightened. “Arcane research into… unconventional forms of energy.”

I squinted at him, watching his smile drop sliver by sliver. But even if he was putting up a guard, I didn’t see any sign of deception. It made sense on some level—the idea of that kind of research wasn’t surprising. But it still felt… wrong.

The white flame, however, gripped tightly to the information like it owned it. It burned around it and wouldn’t let it go. Hotter and hotter in the back of mind until I was sure I would’ve started sweating.

I shook my head and yielded. “U-Unconventional forms of energy?”

Ray nodded slowly, his eyes locking with mine. He stared at me with keen interest—something I had all too much bad experience with. I blinked and tried to force a smile up.

Eventually, he answered. “Yes. In the same way that heat and sound are both forms of energy, there are others. Ones that humans simply don’t have the senses to detect. I was researching those.”

The white flame burned even hotter as if it was trying to melt a barrier away. I shook my head and focused on questions instead. Tried to distract it from scorching the inside of my skull.

“W-What?” I got out, my breath accelerating. “What kinds of energy can humans not detect?”

Ray let out a breath of amusement. “Again, it is not for the faint of mind.” I gritted my teeth. He smiled. “But there is a nearly uncountable number of energy forms. The ones we live with are only some of the simplest. Beyond that, they’re difficult to detect—and exposure to forms of energy like that can have serious effects on the human soul.”

My expression darkened despite the white flame’s activity. Distantly, I remembered Kye telling me about a dragon myth she’d heard as a child. One that said there was more to the world than we knew. That there were layers to it.

I shivered.

Were these forms of energy like that? The question went unanswered in my thoughts, but I hesitated with asking it out loud. Despite the white flame, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know.

Eventually, though, white-hot curiosity won out. “You’re saying that there are… forms of energy that we can’t even hope to know about? That there are whole swaths of the world beyond us?” The white flame blazed with a strange sort of amused validation as I spoke. I clenched my jaw and pushed it away.

“Of course,” Ray said. “It is always a mistake to assume you know everything.”

With a tilt of his head, the statement dug into me. I barely fought back a cringe as I remembered how shellshocked I’d been during my first days on Ruia. I knew firsthand how dangerous it was to assume knowledge. Still, that didn’t make it easier to deal with.

A slow breath entered my lungs as the realization settled. I took it, but I didn’t keep it for long. There was no need. I had more questions to ask.

“How does any of this relate to Marc’s favor?”

Ray’s face lit up. “Oh, yes! I needed a dragon scale as a catalyst because of its geometry.” He saw my face contort and held up a hand. “Dragon scales are metallic on the outside with a normal-looking physical form. But on the inside, their geometry gets… stranger.”

“Stranger?” I asked.

“Stranger,” he confirmed and then leaned back. “To the knowledge of most humans, it is shaped in a way that should be impossible.”

I blinked. “What?”

Ray chuckled. “That is why I needed it as a catalyst, actually. To study extraordinary forms of energy, I usually brute force my way there. But in the same way that already having a spark makes it easier to start a fire, having a dragon’s scale made my research easier.”

“Oh,” was all I offered. The white flame still flickered far too hot, but with all of the information spinning in my head, I couldn’t blame it. I was having a hard time understanding it as well.

“Anyway,” Ray continued. “Marc retrieved the scale for me, but the loss of life on his part was significant enough for me to owe him. A favor which he called in so that I would help your legion.”

I looked up. My breathing slowed again and I adjusted my grip, remembering reality. Then my features tightened. “So what kind of help—”

“Oh, your reward!” Ray said, jolting in his seat. Words died at my lips as the silver-haired mage twisted and looked around for something to give me. “I must have something here to give you.”

After a second of shock, I sighed. “No. Don’t—you don’t need to give me anything.” The question I’d been meaning to ask came back again. “How about… how about my reward is just information?”

Ray stopped, his eyebrows dropping. “Information?”

“Yes,” I said, trying to steady my breath and calm the white flame at the same time. “I’m already dealing with enough uncertainty as it is with this legion—I’d rather not face more than I have to.” I relaxed my fingers. “What kind of help will you actually be providing us with?”

The man shifted, lifting his head back slightly while glaring. But I didn’t give him anything particular to glare at. I stood firm.

“Alright,” he finally said. “My assistance toward your legion will be simple, really. To the best of my ability, I will provide a significant number of your soldiers with enchantments to ward off magical flames, as well as allowing certain among them to use runes of my own design.”

I nodded, processing and cataloguing the information. It was certain, I reminded myself. Something I could count on. Slowly though, my expression shifted.

“Runes?”

Ray smiled, nodding half-heartedly. “That is what I have gone to calling them, yes. In truth, they’re simply objects that I have enchanted with a complex spell.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of spell?”

The Vimur grinned, pride flashing in his eyes. “One of my own design, actually. One that will be able to transport souls across the world in tune with wherever they want to go. An escape route, if you will.”

My eyes widened, a smile cracking across my lips. “An escape route, huh?” The prospect sounded like a nice reassurance, one that actually quelled some of the unrest in my gut. It was another thing I could count on. “How many souls can one of these… ‘runes’ transfer?”

Ray’s smile dropped and he leaned back. “Five total with each enchantment—that was as far as I was willing to take it. Any more and the entropy of the spell would make it not worth it.”

The white flame flared again, latching onto the words he was using. At once, a fractured memory of some idea I’d had in my youth rose up. I pushed it away and tried to stay in the present.

“Entropy of the spell? What are you—”

“Well,” Ray said, interrupting as smoothly as possible. “Energy doesn’t particularly like being forced into a complex state—certainly not one as intricate as an enchantment. Eventually, the energy will fray and disperse, lessening the effect of the enchantment until the spell is too chaotic to be of any use.”

I nodded, trying to force the information into some kind of understanding. For me, it made some kind of sense, but it was still hard to grasp. I’d never been one to pay attention to magic at all—let alone Ruian magic.

The white flame, though… it understood. Or, it appeared that way as the heat rattled up within my mind and it went back to tear up specific memories. Soon enough, I was gritting my teeth and trying to ignore images flashing through my head.

“Thank you,” I got out at some point.

The Vimur eyed me, his head bobbing slowly. “Of course. You did earn it, after all.” He grinned. “Both of you.”

My thoughts screeched to a halt. The white flame froze, stopping the stream of images as I looked back at the man. He still eyed me, one eyebrow inching upward. He knew, then. And the white flame knew that he knew.

“How did you…” I started.

Ray chuckled. “With the activity going on in there, any sufficiently competent mage could figure it out.” I flushed pale; he just raised his head. “But it is an interesting case. I have never seen anything like two souls in one mind. Especially not ones with such… friction between them. Like neither has a proper identity and are both searching for one that fits.”

My throat dried out like a desert as he watched me. The truth in his statement was obvious, no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it. The white flame saw it too.

“It’s…” I cringed. “It’s complicated.”

Ray nodded. “I’m sure it is. And I will not pretend to know your life.” He tilted his head. “Or, well, your lives.”

I glared, gritting my teeth before shaking my head. Focusing inward instead, I watched the white flame crackle. It was processing the words too, I assumed. It knew about the friction between us. It knew what the failed attempts with our memories were doing.

It knew that it wouldn’t work.

A sigh fell from my lips as heat faded back toward the back of my mind. Instead of pressing the white flame further, I let it be. I gave it space to burn in peace. It would be fine, I told myself. It would be there when I needed it. It had to be.

It would be there when we faced Rath.

It would be there against the beast.

Cringing, I half-shook and half-nodded my head. I looked back at Ray and simply raised a wave. “It’s late… I have to go.”

As I turned away, the Vimur raised an eyebrow at the corner of my vision. But I didn’t pay him any attention.

In fact, as I stormed down the steps of the tavern, I didn’t pay anything any attention. I only focused inward as the white flame came around. As it came to terms with its failure and the truth of what was to come.

Before I knew it, I was back out on the cobblestone streets. My body was back to moving on automatic, leading me all the way to the inn. The entire way, I let myself just think. I let the serenity of the city do what it did best.

And the longer I thought, the calmer the white flame became as well. It started to feel more accepting, more open to the future instead of stewing on the past. It was coming to terms with the fact that we weren’t what either of us had been before, and it tried to be okay with that.

It actually felt at peace, for a change.

I just hoped it would stay that way.