by Gage Lee
“What’s in the box?” Clem stood up to peer inside the small container.
“Probably a consolation prize for coming in third,” Hagar said, chuckling.
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” I fished an ovoid stone from the box. “I have no idea what this is supposed to be.”
“May I?” Clem took the stone from my hand and turned it over and over to examine it more closely. “Oh, I see!”
Clem pressed her finger against one end of the object and channeled a thread of jinsei into it. Lines of light crawled over the stone’s surface, unveiling its true shape. The ovoid stone became a quite detailed eyeball, complete with veins and capillaries carved into its surface.
“Put it back in the box,” Hagar said sharply. “Could be sent to spy on us.”
“I don’t think so.” Clem shrugged. “There are no other scrivenings. Check it yourself.”
She tossed the eyeball to Hagar, who caught it gingerly as if afraid it might break.
Or bite her.
My clanmate examined the object closely, then nodded.
“Clem’s right. It’s just a rock, now.” She turned it over idly. “I’ve got no idea what to do with this thing.”
“Can I look?” Abi asked. Hagar tossed it across the table, and he caught it and studied it intently.
“Did you notice the pupil?” Clem asked. “It’s slit. Like a snake’s.”
“Or a dragon’s,” Abi said.
“There is a dragon statue in the courtyard,” Eric mused. “Pizza’s on its way. I got a meatsplosion and a vegetaripocalypse. A coffee for you, Hagar.”
“Thank you very much,” she said. “That statue isn’t missing an eye, though.”
“And this one seems kind of small for the dragon, anyway,” I added.
“We’ll figure it out,” Hagar said. “What’s still glowing in that box?”
The bottom of the box held a small jewelry stand. I lifted it out by the simple silver handle that rose from its center. The handle was surrounded by five slots, and a ring rested in each of them. The auras surrounding the golden bands were studded with armor aspects.
“Looks like a ring for each of us.” I lifted one band from its slot, then set the tray down on the table so the others could choose their own rings. “Some kind of protection thing.”
The rings were a much more lavish reward than I’d expected for third place. They were forged from actual gold, which would’ve made them valuable even without the powerful armor aspects embedded in their auras. I slipped mine over my right ring finger and a powerful sensation rippled through my aura. The ring had imbued my aura with its armor aspects.
Interesting.
“These must be for the next challenge.” Clem admired the ring she’d slipped onto her finger. “We just did swords, so that leaves auras and cores.”
“It’ll be nice to have an edge.” A sharp twinge from my core forced a wince out of me.
Clem and Hagar both looked at me with real concern, and I braced for another argument over whether to seek help for my wounded core.
Fortunately, the pizza arrived and our hunger distracted us. For the next several minutes we focused on replenishing the energy we’d burned in our fight against the constructs. It was amazing how much a slice of pizza could lift your spirits after a near-death experience.
The light from the jinsei lantern above the table flashed off my ring every time I raised my hand to take another bite of pizza. There was something about the ring that demanded my attention, though I couldn’t figure out what. Finally, when my belly was full and the pain in my core had subsided, an idea hit me.
The scrivenings on the ring had strengthened my aura. If that was possible, then maybe it was also possible to strengthen my core with another item. Of course, pursuing that idea meant talking to the only professor with expertise in that field.
Who was also the professor who hated me the most.
Ishigara.
The Stitch
HAHEN AND NIDDHOGG did not agree with my plan.
“You know she hates you for what happened to Grayson, right?” Niddhogg grumbled from where he hovered above my left shoulder. He’d been agitated about my decision since we’d discussed it the night before.
“She could lead you into grave danger,” Hahen said from my right shoulder. “And any help she offers will come with a very steep price.”
“We’ve been at this for weeks,” I sighed. “And we’re no closer to finding a solution to my problem now than we were when we started. I don’t think there’s an alchemical answer. I need to try something else, and scrivening is the one thing we haven’t considered. Ishigara can help us there.”
“She’s dangerous,” Hahen insisted. “She was one of Grayson’s closest allies. If you’ll remember, he wanted you dead.”
That was all very true. But it didn’t change anything.
My team had barely scraped by in the last challenge. The next one would push us even harder. The only way for us to beat the dragons and survive was if I used all my abilities. And if I did that, I’d unravel my core and knock myself right out of the competition.
Needless to say, that wasn’t a viable option.
The reward we’d gotten from the first challenge gave me hope, though. The ring’s scrivenings had augmented my aura with armored aspects. I clung to the hope that Ishigara could help me find something similar for my core.
“I have to do this, guys,” I said. “I appreciate your input, but there’s no other option here. I have to work with Professor Ishigara.”
“As you will,” Hahen said with a sigh. “I will continue my research with Niddhogg’s help. Perhaps we will find something of use before that woman tricks you into a death trap.”
My companions bowed to me, and I returned the show of respect. Their advice was truly valuable. I just couldn’t follow it this time.
Ishigara was clearly surprised to see me when I pushed through the scriptorium’s door fifteen minutes before class was scheduled to start. She leaned back in her chair, pushed her glasses up onto her head, and gestured for me to approach.
“Mr. Warin,” she said with a forced smile. Our last meeting had almost ended in blows. Neither of us wanted a repeat of that incident. “What brings you into class so early today?”
“I need your help to find a way around my problem,” I said. “There has to be something we can do to repair my core, at least temporarily.”
Ishigara considered me for a moment. Her long, pointed nails were coated in a glossy lacquer the color of fresh blood. She tapped the tips of those painted talons together in a rhythmic clicking that reminded me of centipede legs scuttling across glass.
“Aaron the Accursed didn’t scare you off the idea of scrivening your core?” Her lips formed a smile at the question, but it never reached her eyes. Those remained fixed and cold, like a wolf watching its prey.
“There has to be some way to make this work,” I said. “These challenges won’t get any easier. The harder I get pushed, the more likely I am to fully delaminate. I’m willing to try anything at this point.”
“Maybe there is something we can do,” Ishigara said. “You’ll still be weaker than normal, but it’s better than nothing.”
“I’ll try it. Just tell me what I have to do.” I didn’t care how dangerous or risky Ishigara’s solution was. I needed this and was willing to risk anything for it.
“Very well. Have a seat while I refresh my memory of this discipline.” Ishigara turned away from me and plucked a book from the shelves beside her desk. “I’ll go over it in class with the others. Maybe everyone will learn something today.”
“Thank you, honored Professor.” I gave Ishigara a deep, heartfelt bow. “I am grateful for your assistance.”
I was halfway to my usual seat when Ishigara’s voice broke the quiet of the nearly empty room.
“I’m not doing this only for you,” she said quietly. “We all need you to compete in the challenges. We cannot let the dragons
win the Empyrean Gauntlet.”
By the time I’d reached my seat, Ishigara had her nose buried in a thick tome on her desk. Her long, pointed fingernails traced lines of densely packed text.
“Early to class?” Hagar feigned shock when she arrived. “What a good student.”
“You’re hardly ever here,” I muttered. “Maybe I’m early every day.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Hagar smirked. “On the days when I don’t have something more important to do, I always get to class early. And you’re never here.”
“Times change,” I said.
“For the better, I hope.” Hagar grinned.
Small groups of our classmates filtered into the scriptorium and took their seats. A few of them gave Hagar and me approving looks or shot us a thumbs-up. It was nice to know that people appreciated what we were doing in the competition, even if we hadn’t won the first challenge. It was almost as good as being the School champion.
I really missed that cottage, even with everything that had happened out there. Our team could have used a private space to practice and talk strategy.
“Good morning, class,” Ishigara called from her place at the lectern. “Today, we are going to dig into the advanced discipline of technique stitching. While it can be risky, and limits your flexibility in how you deploy your abilities, it provides some unique benefits. Please pay close attention.”
Ishigara turned to the board and drew three concentric circles in white chalk. She tapped one of her fingernails against the innermost ring and faced the class.
“Dawson, what does this circle represent?” Ishigara’s red nail flashed when she stabbed it toward a fourth year in the front row.
“In relation to?” The girl seemed shocked by the question, and she tugged nervously at the neck of her Thunder’s Children robes as if they’d just tried to choke her.
“Hungso?” Ishigara snapped at a third-year member of the Disciples of Jade Flame.
“The core?” The student answered hesitantly.
“That is correct,” Ishigara said with a cold smile. “Warin, what are the other circles meant to suggest?”
“The body and the aura,” I said.
“Also correct,” Ishigara said. “These are the threefold aspects of sacred energy manifested in every Empyreal. While your core is the heart of your being, and your aura is a projection of it, your body is the vehicle that carries and directs your powers. For most of us, the freedom to use any technique we wish, at any time we wish, is one of our greatest strengths. While our core has power, our abilities also have power. In some cases, though, it can be useful to trade versatility for strength beyond what our core can provide.”
My heart raced, and I hung on Ishigara’s every word. She’d found something to help me.
“This should be good,” Hagar whispered to me. “Now I know you came early to beg Ishigara’s help.”
“Yep,” I said. “Maybe the answer to my problem has been under my nose the whole time.”
“I don’t know if I’d trust her,” Hagar said. “Ishigara was one of Grayson’s friends. Be careful around her.”
My clanmate’s words splashed over my enthusiasm like a bucket of cold water. She’d echoed everything Niddhogg and Hahen had warned me about. I’d wanted so much to believe that the answer to my problem was close at hand that I might have swallowed whatever line Ishigara was prepared to feed me.
Maybe it wouldn’t work.
Maybe it was a trap.
“... This discipline will not give you access to techniques you don’t already know,” Ishigara explained. “It will, however, let you use those techniques without expending jinsei.”
Her eyes were locked on mine when she said those words, and excitement crept back into my heart.
Ishigara had to be playing it straight with me. If the dragons won the Empyrean Gauntlet, she’d be under their thumbs right along with the rest of us. She needed me to win.
I hoped that was reason enough for her to put aside our differences.
The professor explained the process in exacting, painstaking detail. While the theory of stitching was surprisingly simple, it involved direct alterations of the jinsei channels. If it wasn’t done exactly right, there was a very real risk of severe bodily harm.
“The first step is to gather an appropriate vessel,” Ishigara said. “For a lower-level technique, any small metal item will do. For more powerful techniques, however, I’d suggest larger items. Copper and silver are good materials, though gold and more valuable metals are even better.”
“Why do I feel like she’s about to sell us vessels for a very special price?” Hagar snickered under her breath.
That wouldn’t have surprised me at all. One of the things I’d learned about Empyreal society was that those with power and wealth wouldn’t hesitate to use it for their benefit, even at the cost of those below them on the social scale. Honor, it had been made very clear to me, was more of a useful tool to keep the lower classes in line than an ideal to be adhered to.
Even knowing the truth of that thought didn’t prevent me from aspiring to be honorable, though. There was a right way to live your life, and I wanted to follow that path rather than just do whatever was easiest or most profitable.
“This vessel will hold the scrivenings for your technique,” Ishigara continued. “Once you have inscribed the vessel, you will no longer be able to power the technique with jinsei from your core. The sacred energy must come from the vessel’s stores.”
“How does jinsei get into the vessel?” I blurted the question out before I raised my hand. For the first time, I was actually excited about what Ishigara was teaching me.
“It’s good to see you taking an interest in what I have to say for once, Jace. The item will naturally charge with jinsei gathered from your surroundings over time, usually within a single day.” Ishigara pushed her glasses up on her nose, gripped the lectern in both hands, and leaned forward until her elbows touched the wood in front of her. “There is a significant downside to this discipline. While the scrivened item exists, you cannot use the stitched technique with any other jinsei. This means you will normally only have a single use per day.”
I gnawed the inside of my lip as I considered that. The good news was that I could use my most powerful techniques without splitting my core in half. The very bad news was that I could only use each technique once per day.
“Once the scrivening is complete, the real work begins.” Ishigara returned to the board and hastily sketched a diagram of the primary jinsei channels on the board. “In order to complete the process, the vessel must be stitched to your channels. And this is where you can cause significant damage if you are careless.”
Ishigara drew circles around the intersection of the major jinsei channels of the torso, arms, legs, and head, then added enormous X’s over each one.
“The stitches must never interfere with these junctures,” the professor said sternly. “If you do stitch a vessel in one of these locations, remove it immediately. Otherwise, you risk obstructing the flow of sacred energy to your heart, brain, or other vital organs. That, I assure you, would be the last mistake you ever made.”
Ishigara went over a few of the finer points of the process, then turned us loose to experiment with what she’d taught us.
“This could work,” Hagar whispered to me. “You can’t risk using your techniques, without hurting yourself, anyway. At least with this you’ll get one use per day.”
“That’s true,” I said quietly. I had another idea, though, that might make this discipline even more powerful.
“I don’t like that look in your eye,” Hagar said with a shake of her head. “It’s always trouble.”
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking about,” I said.
“I don’t have to know the details,” Hagar said. “I’m your handler. I know you better than you think. The last time you looked like that you went to war with the Locust Court.”
She was rig
ht, of course. The idea that I had was very dangerous. If it went wrong, delamination would be the least of my worries.
But if I pulled it off...
The stitching discipline wouldn’t ever be as good as a cure, and I wouldn’t be satisfied until my core was whole again and I was back in control of my abilities. But, if it worked the way I hoped it would, I wouldn’t just have a single use of the technique each day. I’d be able to use all of my techniques, almost as often as I wanted.
But it was a big, time-consuming gamble.
A gamble I was more than willing to take.
“Let’s try it out,” I said to Hagar.
“Okay,” my handler said cautiously. “I’ve never seen you excited about scrivening before, so I’ll pretend this is a good thing and not a sign that you’re going insane.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, and opened the top of my desk to grab some supplies. “Let’s give it a shot.”
The basic theory behind technique stitching wasn’t difficult to comprehend. Putting it into practice, though, was another thing entirely.
Every technique had its own symbolic depiction unique to the scrivener. It was hard for me to let go and trust the process, and even harder to believe that my scrawled loops and whorls on the copper pendant in front of me made any sense.
Hagar helped me as much as she could, though, and near the end of class I finally had something that looked like it might, maybe, actually work.
“That is seriously the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen.” Hagar nudged the copper talisman with the tip of her finger. “I thought Clem was supposed to help you with your scrivenings.”
“She did,” I grumped. “I’m way better now than I used to be.”
“Oh, man,” Hagar groaned.
She put her medallion down on the desk between us. It really was a lot nicer than mine. Her binding loops were clean and smooth, almost perfect circles drawn freehand. Mine, on the other hand, were sloppy ovals with weird little jagged bits at the end where they connected to the rest of the scrivenings. A moment ago, I thought I’d done a passable job. Looking at Hagar’s work next to mine, I wasn’t so sure.
