Theo kept going through a haze. He’d entered a trance, where the only things that mattered were attacking and recovering mana. He lost track of both the time and the number of people he’d killed, only remembering the feeling of blood congealing and drying on his skin, and the way it ripped off his knuckles as he punched.

Sunset came.

Immediately, he sagged and dropped to his knees.

He heard nothing but loud panting.

It took him a moment to realise it was his own.

He looked around, coming to his senses.

There was almost nobody left on his side. A wave of warriors were heading to Etol’s camp, and nobody headed towards Union City.

“Up you get.” Kathy appeared next to Theo, noticeably worse for wear. Her armour was still free of signs of combat, but the dirt and grime that caked her face and rough ponytail told him she hadn’t spent the day relaxing. She placed her hands under his armpits, and heaved him up. With a practiced motion, she slipped her head under his arm and began to help him back.

He stopped, using Striding Wind to relax his muscles for the last time that day, and tried to remove his arm from her neck.

He couldn’t.

“No, I don’t care. You, are resting.” She all but dragged him along.

Kathy felt relieved that he finally stopped being stubborn and co-operated.

That is, until she heard his snoring.

She kept her comments to herself, doing her best to not wake him, even as she knew that nothing short of a hit to the head could come close right now.

He’d earned this much, at least.

---

Theo woke with a start, as his face was drenched in water. He sat up, eyes wide and mana ready to blow up whatever it was had caught him unaware, arms tensed and hands clenched into fists.

“Sorry Theo.” Finn’s sheepish (but slightly mischievous) face came into focus a little distance away.

He realised he was inside the protection of The Woods, the dome of vines having re-asserted itself.

His heartbeat slowed down and he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

When he opened them again, he saw he was in a gathering of every warrior, mage, bard, and priest. Every teacher, all four representatives of the Colleges, everyone.

Finn clearly relished what he had done, but given the apparent seriousness of the gathering, he would let it go. For now.

“Now that we are all present,” Maria began, “We have things of great import to discuss.”

As he woke up, Theo noticed the tension. Well, to be specific, there were two types of tension. Neither was the tension of the war, or battle.

One was the tension of powerlessness and frustration. The other was the tension of not knowing what was going on or why people were upset.

The first tension was displayed by every priest in the gathering.

“Etol have engaged in blasphemy. They steal from the Gods themselves!” John roared, furious. Theo swore that underneath his blindfold, he could see twin pinpricks of light burning through the fabric.

There was confused outrage, as everyone knew that was bad, but unsure how they had managed to do so.

John composed himself, and coughed, glow disappearing as he continued. “Guiding Will has learned how to usurp the prayers of others.” Theo thought back to that moment where all their prayers had fallen from the sky. “He has learned twisted magic, and for what end he uses it I do not know. But what is true, is that…”

John hesitated.

“What is true, is that our prayer magic has no power, and likely strengthens theirs instead.”

Silence rang, as the implications of what John just said wormed its way into everyone’s minds.

John was right, this was blasphemy. This was stealing from the Gods. It was a warping of magic itself, and turned the inherent charity and giving nature of offer magic into theft.

“What this means, is that we in our capacity as priests are currently unable to use magic to assist. Whenever someone sends a prayer, it does not reach those it is supposed to, instead fuelling Etol’s schemes.” John spoke with venom, bitterness on his tongue. Theo could understand why. To be rendered powerless, and to have the basis of not only your magic but your faith usurped and warped? There was no world in which that felt good.

“However, this only applies to the seven major Gods. It does not apply to Natureborn or those who worship, say, Jerrah. So we are not entirely without recovery or support…we just don’t have nearly enough.” Maria interjected, giving a ray of hope. But the implication of those words were clear. There was a reason the battlefield felt emptier and emptier, and it wasn’t because they were winning.

“And while we had a few fighters who were able to last far longer than most,” some sent grateful looks to Theo, “that does not change the fact that this is not sustainable. We cannot just lose our fighting force and hope that we can survive somehow. We were lucky today that there were no casualties, but we cannot assume that will continue to be the case in future.”

“With the exception of Theo and Drew, who will be front line fighter and support respectively, every other bard will be in the medical area using Hymn of Healing when it’s needed to support the priests.”

“What if there’s nobody who needs healing?” Finn called out, as Rowena gave him a dirty look that he ignored as always. Theo hit him across the back of the head in her stead, much harder than she would have.

Finn winked, understanding that they were now even.

“Then you cast as much magic as you can without jeopardising your mana reserves. But you will not have much time to do so, I promise you.” Maria spoke with force, directing their attention back to the matter at hand. She looked at them, unimpressed.

“For now, every bard but Theo will be assisting in helping everyone recover. We’ve administered the anti-paralytic, but there is still much in the way of injury that needs to be looked over. You will be assisting the priests – even without their magic, there is much they know and can do, and will be able to best direct your efforts.” Some priest students unclenched their fists, relieved to know that they were still able to help, even if it wasn’t in a magical capacity.

“Finally, I would like to thank Theo. As a first year bard, you single-handedly held off a significant portion of an army. You have done incredibly today, and I commend you for your efforts. You have more than earned your rest.” He tried not to blush as people looked his way, succeeding partially (in the sense that he was a peach, not a beet).

Ansel strode forward. “I would also like to congratulate Miriam for comprehending Soul of Clay on the battlefield. We are called the College of War for a reason, and I suspect this will not be the last breakthrough that will happen before this ends.”