The noon-day sun shone down on Shaya and her friends as they prepared to depart, piercing the soft clouds that otherwise covered much of the sky that day. The locals were used to turning monster parts into arrows, armour, or fancy boots, so the group had a ready market for some of the loot they had brought back from their expedition. They stowed the rest of the unsold monster bits in their river barge’s hold, alongside the provisions they had acquired from Rutana’s people.

The smell of roasting meat drifted to them from Rezon’s community center, as it had for most of the day. “I can’t believe we’re not staying a little longer,” Gaz whined, as he had for most of the day, “There’s a delicious feast just waiting for us there – and it’s free!”

No one spared him a reply or so much as a glance. After the first hour of complaining, his friends had finally managed to tune him out and get on with preparing to set sail.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine going alone?” Shaya asked her friend and mentor as he prepared to leave.

Jax nodded. “None of you would be able to keep up with me anyway.”

“And you don’t need any supplies?”

“Nope,” he emptied the contents of his smoking pipe over the side of the boat, “I can hunt and forage on my way back, don’t worry about me.”

“Take care of yourself, Pops,” Lorral said, giving her dad a hug.

“Will do, pup,” he returned the hug, “You’re responsible for reining in these hooligans while I’m away.”

“I know, I’ll do my best.”

“You always do.”

The fatherly smile he gave Lorral sent a twang of envy through Shaya, which she buried. Lumir did his best and, really, was an amazing father to her, but Shaya still hadn’t grown used to calling him ‘dad’. Seeing this exchange though, she wished her parting with Lumir was sweeter.

I’ll have to send him a letter when I get to the Academy.

“Hey boss,” the veteran scout turned back to Shaya, “best of luck in Arcadia. Don’t forget to work smart as well as hard, eh?”

She smiled, “Will do Jax. Thanks for all of the Jade training and, well, all of the other advice you’ve given me over the years.”

“Don’t mention it, us old folk love it when young’uns actually listen to us.”

With his farewells to the rest of the crew complete and his pipe stowed, Jax walked to the aft of their ship. The tattoos on his body glowed with dark green light as he drew in aether for a spell. In mere moments, the light crawled out from his tattoos to cocoon his entire body and burst as a large, golden eagle shot into the air. Jax’s polymorphed form was larger than the average eagle, but the change in mass was still incredible – he shed well over a hundred pounds and even merged his equipment into a form that was ostensibly no more than twenty pounds. The old bird released an ear-piercing screech as he climbed higher and higher, which their gryphlet returned in kind.

Shaya winced at the loud noise right next to her. “You know buddy,” she looked down at her gryphlet, “I think my sensitive ears and your ability to communicate over several miles are not going to synergize well.”

“Wark.” They replied in a quieter tone.

“That’s better, thank you.” Shaya gave the gryphlet a scritch before she turned back to the rest of her crew, “Alright folks, let’s set off and enjoy the rest of our trip.”

Lorral watched her father climb ever higher and further away, until he was but a speck on the horizon. Awe was etched onto her face as she spoke, “I just wish I could cast spells like that sooner, it feels like that power is so distant.” Lorral sighed and closed her eyes, “The feel of wind in your feathers as you soar, the taste of blood on your fangs as you hunt prey in the most natural of ways.”

“Yeah, me too-” Shaya began, then paused as Lorral finished. “Yeah, I, ugh, understand where you’re coming from...I think. It feels like my magic training has progressed so slowly, and I can’t wait for it to be unleashed when I get to the Academy. There’s so many rules about not training unsanctioned mages, and I understand the security risk, but...it just feels like it ties our hands too much.”

Shaking her head, Lorral turned to face her friend. “Thanks, but I don’t think you know how lucky you have it.”

Shaya blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean that most people take years to work their way up to even getting an Esper when they’re actively trying to do so. A normal Astorian would have had to serve their church for years, if not decades, before getting an Esper as awesome as yours.” Lorral frowned, “Dad made me ‘connect with nature’ for years before he introduced me to his animal spirits, then it took me months more of interacting with them before he let me bind one to me. Years!”

“Okay, I'm not saying I have it rough, but-”

“Shush. Then he took my training nice and slow, focusing on meditation and barely touching aether, let alone spell circuits.” Lorral shook her head, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be frustrated with you, but you should just be a little more grateful for the progress you’re making.”

“Alright, alright, I will be,” Shaya said, raising her hands in surrender. “But, have you considered just asking Jax if he’d give you more training?”

“What?” Lorral asked in surprise, “I’m sure he knows how much I want to learn already.”

“I made the same assumption with Krebo, but it turns out I was wrong. You might be too.” Shaya explained, resting a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Krebo thought he was pushing me too hard, given how hard it was for me to pick up magic at first. Jax might be happy to set aside more time for you than you realize too.”

“Hmm, no harm in trying when I get back.”

“Exactly,” Shaya smiled, “But if you want to practice your Jade magic, I’d be happy to offer my services as an amateur mentor.”

“I might take you up on that offer,” Lorral chuckled, and started moving away, “but for now I should probably get the ship ready to sail. But remember what I said about gratitude!”

“Oh, here’s my chance,” Shaya said as Lorral departed and Krebo walked towards her. “Krebo, have I ever told you how grateful I am that you’re my teacher?”

His eyes narrowed and his stride slowed. “...what did you do?”

“What, can’t a student just show her great mentor some appreciation?”

Eyed still narrowed, Krebo looked around, expecting an ambush of some sort.

Finding none, he simply ignored the previous statements and started on his. “The holds are full and we’re unmoored. Are you ready to set sail?”

“That I am, let’s keep the journey going. I have a schedule to keep!”

“Should be easy from here on out,” Krebo noted, “Duke Lumir has a stronger presence further down the Suudowa River, and crossing the border won’t be a problem.”

“What makes you so sure?” Shaya asked.

“Well, if your relation to Duke Lumir is somehow insufficient, then you can rely on the Academy’s letter of acceptance. That letter can be used to guarantee passage to the imperial Academy in a timely manner, ensuring that every applicant can safely get to the Academy even if they’re from a remote area or have enemies’ lands to cross.”

“And that actually works?”

Krebo shrugged. “The Academy investigates the disappearance of its prospective students very seriously, only a fool would try to take advantage of them.”

“Then why are you escorting me to the Jade Sea?”

“Because there are plenty of fools in this world, Shaya. The Academy has salted the earth of those who interfered with their students, and yet there are always people out there who think they will be the exception that, somehow, gets away with it. Always.”

“Geeze, it’s a good thing I’ve never offended anyone and I’m so lovable, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Shaya,” Krebo replied in a droll tone, “very lovable. You’ve certainly never rubbed anyone the wrong way. That was sarcasm, by the way.”

“Thank you for the clarification, Krebo, I was uncertain due to your permanent monotone.”

“Did you know that most nobles die at the hands of their bodyguard?” Krebo’s eyes narrowed. “It’s so easy to buy a person’s loyalty, especially if your relationship with them has only caused them grief and hair loss.”

Shaya nodded. “I’ll stop talking then.”

“Clever girl,” Krebo replied.

+++++++++++++++++

Buried deep within the crust of Nadrendir, Cindrahl stirred. The ancient Titan felt more of its children die on the surface world, felt their fear and shock through its connection to them, and burning rage surged through the miles of serpentine coils that made up its body. It lashed out against the bonds that imprisoned it, but they did not so much as budge.

Something was wrong.

The Titan did not understand time as a mortal would, but it knew it should have recovered more of its strength since its last attempt to escape. Cindrahl and its surviving peers – those it had once fought for millenia before the praying apes rose to power – should have been close to resurgence. A mere century away at most.

Cindrahl was confident that it could escape the next time, or perhaps the time after that. Each time the ancient Titans slipped loose their bonds enough to unleash their full children upon the world, the apes grew weaker. It sensed the unity that made the apes strong fracturing more and more each time it awakened, heard more and more prayers as apes turned to worshipping it instead of the Pretenders.

A forked tongue of gaseous flame flicked from the Titan’s maw, intending to taste freedom.

Instead, it only tasted rock.

Rage exploded from Cindrahl, sending shockwaves through its bonds to the surface world so far, far above it. It hungered for freedom. It hungered for power. But, most of all, it hungered for revenge.

The serpent felt the same within each of its children, felt its fire burning within each heart. Cindrahl exulted in the feelings of its children, basking in the warmth of their hatred.

But it felt something else within them as well. A sense of independence, a desire for change. Their own desires?

Anger roiled through it at this revelation, but only because Cindrahl was incapable of understanding – let alone feeling – fear.

Is this why it no longer grew strong? Why its energy was bleeding away instead of charging it?

But its power was beyond measure – where could all of it be going?