While to outsiders, the simple ranking of first through fifth suffices to understand the approximate power of an individual, there are in reality countless gradiations of ability. Also, the specific interactions between their power and ability with their specific position and rank necessitate a far more complicated system for addressing and respecting those around you.

-House Sarosa: Secrets Revealed

I should never have imagined Desten 1 as being strict. Pelys’s teaching methods made Desten look like an indulgent grandparent.

That is to say, Pelys’s idea of instruction primarily involved taking me to the top of a cliff and dropping me off. He then followed me down, actively disrupting my frantic attempts to fly back up, my power dissolving to nothing each time.

“Aura bubble, now! Once you can manifest it on command, I’ll let you fly back up, not before.”

Despite my desperate attempts, I didn’t form the bubble on time. I splashed painfully into the river far below, coughing as I tried to stay above the rushing water carrying me downstream and avoid being slammed into the cliffs to either side.

Pelys didn’t give me time to recover, but swooped down in a burst of blue light, dragged me at top speed back to the top of the cliff.

“Aura bubble. It’s the simplest most basic thing you can possibly do. I have no idea how you manage to fly without it. Go.”

And with that, he shoved me off again.

I wasn’t sure whether to be thankful it was an insanely tall cliff - I had enough time to try several times before hitting the water - or if that made it worse.

I spent most of my time that evening either falling, or sinking and choking and sputtering as I tried frantically to reach the surface, and none of it warm and dry.

By the time we stopped for the night, several hours later, I was reliably forming a bubble just in time to hit the water, protecting me from the impact before it shattered and dropped me into the freezing, rushing water. I still couldn’t form it at will, only when I knew I was about to hit the river, but it felt like significant progress.

Pelys finally declared us done. He flared his blue power to draw off any water clinging to me or my clothes, leaving me slightly chilled but no longer soaked, then we went to the plaza to reunite with Desten 3. He smiled when he saw us, and asked how it went. Pelys called my progress abysmal, demanded that I be allowed to return every day until we left the Sarosa territory, and insisted in knowing what our upcoming schedule would be so he could follow me.

I tried to protest, but I had underestimated Pel’s stubbornness. I would rather spend all night in forced social situations, trying to somehow educate Desten on the realities of life, than go through another session like tonight’s.

Desten, ignoring my attempts at subtle hints and blatant ‘no please no’ gestures, disclosed our entire schedule - Leetan next, we were traveling sequentially - and agreed to surrender me for training. He seemed happy for me, as though being subjected to this kind of suffering was worth celebrating.

Pel instructed me to return tomorrow evening, then disappeared in a flare of blue light.

“Do you think he’d give me lessons too?” Desten asked, staring after him.

“Trust me, you don’t want his kind of lessons.”

“No, really, do you have any idea the kind of waiting lists there are to be trained by a Sarosa Fourth? There are only about thirty certified fourths, and most of them don’t even accept students. You are so lucky.”

“I guess so,” I said, dubious. “I can ask him.”

Desten formed his bubble so we could start off back to Midpeak. “Maybe after touring season is over. Without your help, I’m going to be swamped trying to talk to everyone.”

“You know I disagree with most of your theories, yes?”

“But you are at least willing to discuss them reasonably. With you to set the baseline for the discussion, we can bring people in without them feeling like they have to come up with wild nonsense to refute my claims, or just go along with it because they want to get me to move on. If there is an actual debate happening, they can join in whichever side they prefer and we’ll be able to work on convincing them properly.”

“I would be happy to tell Pelys I’m unavailable,” I insisted.

“No, no. This is an extremely valuable opportunity for you. What kind of a friend would I be if I forced you to give it up?”

I hadn’t realized he considered us friends. I wasn’t sure what to say. Even if I still didn't necessarily agree with his assessment of Pel's training methodology, I was touched by his concern for my wellbeing, and the effort he’d put into arranging our meeting in the first place.

It made me really, really hope I was right about him not being the killer, because I was actually starting to like him.

We arrived back at Lirndyn Cottage far too late for Desten to attend tonight’s event, which was taking place in the southern city today. I felt another rush of gratitude for his unhesitating sacrifice, his willingness to help to such an extent even though he knew nothing about me.

And I quietly wondered, what was going on with Desten Metako?

The next day, it rained. Desten dropped me off at Pel’s balcony before continuing on to his next party, which took place in Northpoint this time. I very nearly begged him to take me with him, but the knowledge that I would likely require the ability to protect myself just barely edged out my instinctive desire to avoid being thrown off a cliff.

I swallowed my fear and allowed Pelys’s bubble to surround us and fly out away from the city deeper into the mountains. This would all be worth it, I kept telling myself. It got harder and harder to believe as we neared the cliffs and I knew the ordeal was about to begin again. I already ached all over from the previous day’s training. I did not want to do any more.

But then I remembered how killer Desten had collapsed the entire duel barrier into a fiery explosion of death, how he’d torn through Fylen’s shields and burned down everything to the ground, and my long-term desire for self-preservation took over.

If I found Desten, and if it came to a confrontation, as I was right now … I would die. Without even putting up a fight. I’d be dead the moment he turned his power on me.

Pelys’s bubble dissolved, and the rain immediately set about soaking through my clothing. No point in delaying the inevitable. Without waiting for him to push me, I stepped off the cliff, heart pounding, and pulled on my power to slow my descent. Pelys flashed out a burst of blue light that broke my feeble attempt at flight apart, but as long as I kept pushing out pulses of lift it slowed my fall and kept me upright.

My power didn’t want to leave contact with my body. It would be happy to make me faster, or stronger, or able to fly, but it didn’t want to go out away from me into the sphere of protection that everyone else could bring into being at will. Second nature to them, utterly foreign to me.

Trying to simultaneously pull the power from within me into tangible existence and also push it out away from me into the air proved disconcerting, an odd sensation that I couldn't quite grasp. They were very distinct actions.

Pulling it up was something akin to inhaling, like trying to inflate myself with the power as it grew to fill me. Kind of.

Pushing it out felt utterly unlike continuing to inflate the power until it grew beyond my body; the more I tried to stretch it, the more strongly it clung to me. To continue with the same flawed metaphor, pushing the power out was more like trying to force air out through my chest while still inhaling, and build a shell from it once it was out. I may be able to somehow manage it in extreme circumstances, but it was such a counter-intuitive sensation that I couldn’t figure out how to do it on command.

I hit the water, shattering my tenuous hold over the power as I flailed against the rushing river, clawing to the surface to gasp for air, waiting for Pelys to drag me out and back up. I looked around, but didn’t see him anywhere. The water hurled me toward the stone of the cliffs that lined either side of the chasm; I pulled my power together to lift me into the air in a frantic bid to escape, but suddenly Pel was there, blocking my way.

“I’ve decided to adjust your scenario a bit,” Pelys shouted over the sound of the water. Lightning flashed in the distance; thunder boomed. “You seem to have adapted too readily to falling. Maybe this will provide sufficient incentive.”

With that, he sent out another disrupting flash of light, breaking my flight and dropping me back into the raging water.

The river smashed me against the stone, then dragged me away and around, pulling down. It took all my strength just to surface long enough to gasp for air, using low power flight to stay up before Pel noticed what I was doing and shattered the power again.

How was he doing that, anyway? I had to learn that trick.

No time to figure it out now. The water swallowed me. I was slammed into stone again, and I knew I’d be bruised and aching tonight. If I survived. I pushed toward the surface and gasped for air, getting a mouthful of water instead. I coughed helplessly, then I was underwater again, choking on too much water and suddenly sure I was about to die.

I pulsed flight in a rapid series of desperate flares, building on each others’ momentum, never holding one long enough for Pel to disrupt, another on the heels of the last, and burst above the surface. I kept going in a panic, up and up and up, coughing and gasping and pulsing my power in pure desperation. I’d ascended probably twice the height of the cliff before Pel caught me.

“Nice try, but you’re supposed to be practicing your aura bubble.” A wave of water condensed from the air and pushed me down, my flight insufficient to hold me up. I screamed, but the water didn’t care. I crashed back into the river, pushed almost to the bottom by the force of the wave.

I really should have opted for the party.

I couldn’t say how long I spent in the river, but it felt like an eternity. The storm passed, but still the river raged; and still Pelys refused to let up. I’d never been so battered, so weak, so entirely worn out in body and mind. And still he kept pushing me harder.

Then, afterwards, we sat at the top of the cliff, clean and dry in a space he’d arranged beside a boiling cauldron. He’d wrapped me fully in his blue power, which was doing something to ease the pain of being battered by a river for hours on end.

“What power rank was Fylen?” I asked, once I was able to think and speak coherently again. Maybe he’d been a first, and I didn’t really need to worry so much. Maybe I could give up this extreme training, and go back to Desten 1 with his nice simple shouting.

But Pel answered, “Third. In another year, he’d have reached fourth. If I were two years younger, we’d have been evenly matched.”

“How much more power does it take to overcome a higher ranked noble?”

“It depends. There is no true barrier upon what powers can be used, but there are ... inclinations to them. It is easier for me to use water than fire, for instance. But not impossible to use both." He gestured to the boiling pot. "That is made with my fire, otherwise it would be cold."

I glanced at it, and sure enough, it did not have a fire under it; the pot simply boiled of its own volition. And, now I looked closer, a rim of blue light around its base.

"Fylen believed that there was no need to branch out too far. He focused on what came naturally, and honing it to its best. He could out-shield me any day, but my attacks were always stronger. He could hold out longer, but never win."

Fylen's defences were stronger than Pel's. And Fylen had been taken down so easily.

Who was this Desten? I didn't know much about the Destens I'd met or what their power levels were, but surely it couldn't be so extreme. Maybe Desten 2, he seemed pretty competent, but it wasn't him, that was the one thing I was surest of.

"So what's the point?" I asked dejectedly. "If Fylen's defences were so much better, what chance do either of us stand?"

"We won't be walking into this blind. We won't be alone. We have other allies, this isn't just me and you."

I nodded, but my confidence was shaken. Everything I did felt like it always turned out to be pointless. Why was I even bothering? What was the point of going on, putting in so much effort, enduring so much stress and pain?

"If you want to give up, I won't try to stop you," Pel said quietly. "We barely know each other. This is my crusade. It doesn't have to be yours."

"It does. It's the only purpose I have left."

Pel nodded in understanding and stared into the bubbling cauldron.

"I know I may seem overly demanding, but you're badly behind the curve. Once you develop mental blocks like yours, it can take years to break them down without drastic action. Already, you'd started to accept being shoved off a cliff, your power didn't do anything when you landed. Until you can keep doing what you did yesterday, or better, I'm going to have to find more and more dangerous situations for you."

I wanted to back out then and there. I may no longer be wet, he may be slowly repairing my battered body, but being swept helplessly down the steep ravine by a flooding river was one of the most tortuous experiences I'd ever encountered. Agreeing to undergo it or worse, again and again? I had to be crazy.

But then again, being crazy was what got me into this mess in the first place. It wasn't like sanity was going to get me out of this predicament.

"I'll do my best," I said instead, and Pelys smiled.

"Good. I'll try to make sure you survive. I won't drop you in a volcano until you're ready for it."

“I can assure you, I will never be ready for that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I bet that by this time next year you’ll be as at home in the lava as underwater.”

“Nope. Neither one going to happen.”

“Huh.” Pel leaned back and stretched, somehow ominously. “We’ll see.”