I blinked as my eyes opened to brilliant sunlight streaming onto my face. I lifted my hands to shade my eyes from the glare and winced as my left hand throbbed painfully. I looked at it and saw that the damage I’d taken had only partially healed. The bite marks Renica stitched shut were scabbed over, but they still pulsed with dull pain. My left shoulder throbbed as well, and the numbness in it had spread into the side of my chest and down my arm. My stomach and legs seemed mostly healed, though, although the wounds still itched and ached slightly.

I scanned the room reflexively as I roused myself, sitting up despite the discomfort. I was in a smaller space, maybe ten feet by ten feet. The bed I lay on was narrow and firm, with wooden slats to each side that would keep me from rolling off it. The wall beside me was pierced with a large window, and the sun beat down through the glass to bathe me in its glare. The walls and ceiling were white plaster, and the floor was smooth stone, reflecting that light around until I had trouble seeing without squinting. Solar raju flowed thickly in the room, almost a palpable haze of magic in the air, and a single wooden door stood opposite me.

A chair stood beside that door, and Renica slumped in the chair, her head back and her mouth open as she snored lightly in sleep. Vikarik rested on the floor beside her, also deep in slumber and apparently fully healed. The kids were nowhere to be seen, but I wasn’t worried about them too much. They were survivors; they were probably in less danger than Renica and I were from the moonclaws since they knew where to hide.

My shoulder throbbed again, and unthinkingly, I gathered some raju and sent it toward the injuries, willing them to heal. The raju flowed slowly, and as it touched the growing numbness in my flesh, I felt the icy coldness slowly retreat–and the raju vanished, never reaching my wounds. I frowned and tried again, sending more raju toward my hand, and I felt a tingling in my palm and forearm as the cool twilight magic sank into my wounds. That tingling only lasted for a moment before slipping away, the raju disappearing as the coldness retreated slightly once more.

“I don’t think you can heal yourself right now, John,” Sara said, slowly materializing in the air in front of me. “That toxin seems to have spread, and your raju is really low despite having rested. Take a look at your status; you have notifications to look at anyway.”

I quickly pulled up my status and saw that she was right.

New Stat Unlocked: Lunar Raju (Bestial)

Lunar Raju: 37 (12 Bestial)

Lunar raju is the magical energy that powers lunar magic on Soluminos. Your pool of lunar raju is based on your perception and prowess stats and can be increased by taking specific professions.

Lunar raju is inherently imbalanced and destabilizing to its wielders. Those who use it find that it builds up within them, weakening their body, intellect, or vital essence.

Lunar raju is separated into three subsets: Bestial, Blood, and Death. Each must be unlocked separately.

Bestial magic affects the mind and emotions of the target. Powerful bestial magic can control thoughts or even dominate another entirely.

Partial Adaptation!

You have begun to adapt to the Doorworld of Soluminos!

Adaptation Level: 75%

Bonus: Physical stat penalties reduced by 50%

John Gilliam, Tamer of the Divine

Mental Stats

Reason: 23 Intuition: 19 Perception: 24 Charm: 7

Physical Stats

Prowess: 16 Vigor: 16 Celerity: 15 Skill: 18

Solar Raju: 23 (4.3/minute recovery)

Lunar Raju: 37 (12 Bestial, 12 Blood, 13 Death, 6.2/minute recovery)

481 Unassigned XP

Unassigned XP can be divided among the following professions:

Undead Hunter, Warrior

You have 24 hours to assign this XP or it will be randomly assigned

“Well, I could have used those physical stats last night,” I sighed. “At least, I think it was last night. Any idea how long I was out?”

“It couldn’t have been too long, or your raju would be higher. Although, according to my calculations, the venom gave you another nudge to your physical stats, as well.”

“At least it’s good for something,” I grunted. “I take it the poison is why my raju is so low?”

“Yes, it looks like it’s also passively absorbing raju as you recover it, lowering your regeneration.”

“It’s a toxin, though,” I pointed out. “Would Twilight Purification work?”

“Maybe,” she hedged. “It’s just as likely that it would drain the spell without any effect, though. You could try if you’d like. You have the raju for it.”

I envisioned the spell in my mind, seeing the blood raju flowing into my flesh to push the toxin out while death magic allowed it to pass through my skin without damage. I pictured the solar energy above the wound, flaring as it destroyed the toxin…

Pain surged in my shoulder like a blade sliding into it, and I dropped the spell in surprise. Sara’s face pursed, and she reached a hand toward me, almost touching my shoulder–not that she could have, since she only existed in my mind. As the pain faded, the numbness returned, but I noticed it felt significantly reduced.

“That’s interesting,” she said quietly.

“What is?”

“The spell worked a little bit, John. You pushed some of the poison out–but it drained the solar raju instead of being destroyed. Look at your shoulder.”

I glanced down and saw that someone had wrapped a bandage around my shoulder–a bandage that was now lightly stained with swirls of some dark liquid in addition to my blood.

“Is that the venom?” I asked.

“It looks like it.” Sara frowned. “It reminds me of something.” She shook her head. “The point is, it looks like lunar raju affects the toxin to at least some extent. Solar magic doesn’t do anything at all. That might explain why your twilight magic pushes it back.”

I nodded but didn’t reply. I wasn’t ready to try casting the purification spell again, but I knew I’d have to. I needed to get that toxin out of me, and I needed to do it soon. Unfortunately, it hurt like hell–the venom burned like acid on the way out–and after last night, I wanted to enjoy the feeling of being relatively pain-free for a few moments more. To stall the inevitable, I turned back to my notifications and added the XP to Undead Hunter, pleased at the results.

Profession: Undead Hunter has gained a level!

New Level: 3

For every level of Undead Hunter, you gain:

Perception, Vigor, and Skill +1

2 Skill Points

I pulled up my list of skills and looked them over. The battle with the moonclaws pushed my Axe Mastery up to Adept 9, my Twilight Mastery had gone up to Adept 2, and Light Swords went up to Initiate 4. With my two skill points, I could push Disguise, Axes, or Endurance into the Savant ranks, or I could bring Tracking or Light Swords to Adept 1 each.

Part of me was tempted to put the points into one of the weapons skills. Being a savant with my axe would surely be useful, after all. However, I could do the same thing with some training if I really wanted to. There had to be weapons instructors in the city; with some expert help, I could probably get axes, knives, swords, and firearms all up a rank in a matter of a week or two.

My other, non-combat skills were, in all honesty, both far more useful and a lot harder to train. Firearms was only useful when I had a gun in my hand; Disguise or Tracking could come in handy anytime. Endurance, though; Endurance was the real winner. If I’d had another rank in Endurance, I might have been able to function more effectively the night before, to push through the pain and exhaustion–and I doubted that was going to be the last night I’d have to deal with those. I dropped the points into Endurance and read the message that popped up.

Skill: Endurance has gained a level

Endurance: Savant 2

Benefit: Adrenaline Surge–You can temporarily ignore the effects of pain and fatigue. The length of this effect varies based on your Vigor stat and increases by 1% per level of this skill.

Other benefits of Endurance increase by 25%.

I whistled softly. That was a useful ability–although the lack of detail about how long it would last was upsetting. Ignoring pain and fatigue for an hour would be amazing; for five seconds, a lot less so. I’d just have to use it and see, I supposed.

“I’d guess around a minute with your current stats,” Sara told me. “It’ll vary situationally, though. The more exhausted or hurt you are, the shorter it’ll last, and the better shape you are, the longer it’ll last.”

“Still, a minute of being able to function no matter how beat up I am…” I shook my head. “A minute is a long time in a fight, Sara.”

“It is, yes.” She fell silent for a long moment. “While you were sleeping, I was thinking about your ideas from last night.”

“My ideas?” It took me a moment to remember what she was talking about. “Oh, about the world having its own magic, right?”

“Exactly.” She shook her head, her face taking on a critical expression. “And once I started looking for it, I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it. I’m sorry, John.”

“What are you apologizing for?” I asked, truly puzzled.

“Every world has its own energy field. I know that; it’s what allows me to analyze the Doorworlds to discover their magic, tech, and biology ratings. It just never occurred to me that the world could have a second field, a separate magical field.” She sighed forlornly. “If I’d realized it earlier, I’d have been able to help you with your twilight magic a lot more effectively.”

“What do you mean? I think you’ve helped me plenty, Sara. I doubt I’d be able to cast a single spell without you, in fact.”

She gave me an open, genuine smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but it’s not true. You were doing magic without realizing it the whole time–and the world’s energy field is the reason why.”

She moved over to my side and touched my unwounded arm, her fingers passing through my flesh without even a tingle. “After you suggested that the world has its own magical energy and what its purpose might be, I ran some analyses. You’re right; the world seems to be a natural source of creation magic. However, it seems to be a reactive magic rather than an active one.”

“Meaning?” I asked, ignoring her fingers, even though the way they slid through me without sensation was creeping me out a little.

“Meaning that the world’s raju–I don’t even know if that’s the right term for it, really–isn’t easily manipulated. All energy has its own inertia, John, and the world’s magic has so much inertia that it’s like a thick fluid of some kind, one that barely flows at all.”

“Molasses in January,” I suggested.

“If you say so,” she shrugged. “From the images in your mind, yes, that seems appropriate.” She gestured, and the image of a thick, dark blob of oozing liquid hung in the air. She poked it, and the blob barely shifted at all, holding its shape and dimpling only slightly from the impact of her finger. “You can imagine that this is the world’s magical field. It’s hard to manipulate at all; it just absorbs energy that you send at it. Anyone trying to draw on it for spells would exhaust themselves just attempting to gather it, much less fashioning it into something.

“However, when you introduce other types of raju into the mix…” A flare of orange appeared in the blob. For a moment, the thick fluid resisted the orange light, pressing down on it. Suddenly, the blob seemed to liquefy, flashing into a thin fluid and swirling around the orange light freely. “It becomes a lot more fluid and malleable.”

She gestured, and the combined mass of energy twisted into a helical shape. “I think this happens anytime someone casts a spell on this world,” she mused. “The world’s magical field acts as a dampener at first, until you concentrate enough energy in one place. Then, it liquefies and lets the raju flow freely. That’s why not everyone can cast spells, I’m guessing.”

“It would also explain why magic isn’t weaponized more on this world,” I said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “On Earth, any time a new technology came around, humans worked out a way to weaponize it. Someone discovered how to smelt iron, and immediately iron weapons and armor appeared. We discovered how to build engines to propel vehicles, and someone slapped armor and guns on one of those vehicles to make a tank. If we had magic, we’d have weaponized it and used it in warfare, for sure. I was kind of wondering why the omeni hadn’t. If the world’s magic acts as a dampener, it might explain why.”

“I suppose it might,” she agreed. “Although I don’t think that every species is that warlike, John.”

“Maybe not,” I admitted. “But the omeni are surrounded by enemies every close moon. They have to fight for their survival on a regular basis. I can’t imagine that they just ignored a powerful weapon like enchanted items or magical technology without good reason.” I frowned. “Wait, how does this have to do with the moon-cursed?”

“I’m getting to that,” she smiled at me again. “As I said, if you add a certain concentration of raju to the world’s energy field, it liquefies. However, if you keep adding energy to it–or increase the density of that energy–it can crystallize.” The orange-black helix collapsed into a tiny globe. With a flash, it suddenly hardened into a quartzlike gem that gleamed and sparkled with its own light.

“I think this is how the moon-cursed form. When the moon gets close, the raju concentration of that type grows exponentially until it reaches the needed density. The world’s energy field crystallizes around it, and poof! You’ve got moon-cursed.” She held out her hands helplessly. “This is all conjecture, of course, but I have a certain amount of evidence to back it up.”

“Evidence? What kind of evidence?”

“Well, I’ve run several analyses on that Imperial dagger of yours,” she replied. “I’ve never been able to quite work out how the sunstone and moonstone are formed. I could replicate them if I had to, but I’m just copying a pattern without understanding it–the way I did with the golost. Now, I do.”

“They’re crystallized world raju?” I guessed.

“Exactly. Once I knew what I was looking for, it was easy to see the world raju mixed in, creating a matrix to hold the solar or lunar raju in place. It would have taken a lot of solar or lunar raju to make the stone, but once made, it’s a permanent creation of the world.”

She stopped, and I sensed her hesitating. “And then, there’s you, John.”

“Me?” I echoed. “What do you mean, me?”

“Well, you’re a flaw in my theory. Magic comes really easily to you. You don’t have to struggle to use it; you can manipulate it almost effortlessly. It’s like the world’s energy field is always liquid around you.”

She bit her lip almost nervously. “And then I ran an analysis or three on you–on your body, that is. John, you’re made almost entirely of magic. Your body is crystallized world raju mixed with solar and lunar magic. That’s why magic is so easy for you; you literally are magic, so the world’s energy doesn’t impede you in the slightest. Your Sense Imbalance ability seems to interact with your body to help you intuitively balance spells, and you can feel when the spells aren’t right because you’re perfectly balanced.”

“Wait, I’m a moon-cursed?” I asked, startled enough to speak aloud.

“Well, in a manner of speaking, I guess. The moon-cursed are creations out of balance, though, composed entirely of one type of lunar raju. That’s why solar magic hurts them, and why they disappear at sunrise. You’re made of every type of raju mixed together.”

I nodded slowly at what she was saying. Honestly, once I thought about it, I realized that I didn’t much care if I was moon-cursed or sun-blessed or whatever. I knew that the body I inhabited was an artificial one; it didn’t matter to me if it was made of magic or regular flesh and blood as long as it functioned correctly.

She smiled encouragingly at me. “Exactly. Plus, realizing all this helped me understand how those portals are working. I don’t think that they’re actually portals, in fact. I think that they’re more like lenses, focusing one type of lunar raju around them until it becomes dense enough to…”

“Ionat?” Renica’s voice startled me, and I jumped slightly, my hand reaching toward my belt for my axe even as Sara vanished. When all I felt was bare skin, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t wearing a belt, or even a shirt or pants. My weapons were gone, and so was my pack–the one holding the books I’d taken from the Archives the night before.

“Renica,” I said hoarsely, my dry and scratchy throat forcing me to stop and cough and swallow a few times.

“Are you okay?” she asked, rising to her feet and moving to the bedside, her face reflecting her concern.

“I…” I stopped and looked around. “That depends. Where are we, when is it–and where’s the pack I had last night?”

She blinked and looked around as well, her face slightly furtive. “We’re in the Cathedral. The Pretmaraji destroyed the inn last night to stop the moon-cursed, but the explosion knocked you out. They brought you here to heal you.”

She leaned closer and added quietly, “And I have everything that matters, including your axe and knife. I got it all into my pack before they could take it from you. I thought it might be bad for them to find some of that.”

I sighed, relaxing slightly. Renica still looked nervous, though, as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked anywhere but at my face. I could feel the waves of bestial energy flowing off her, and my new sensitivity to that magic let me feel her anxiety.

“What is it?” I asked quietly.

“I…” She took a deep breath. “The Pretmaraji, Ionat. He talked with me, asked me questions–questions about Borava, about the Sorvaraji–and about you.”

“And?” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even despite the sinking feeling in my chest.

“I told him what he wanted to know,” she said miserably. “I didn’t want to, but–I didn’t have a choice. He’s a Pretmaraji! He’s one of the Sun’s hands on this world! I couldn’t lie to him…”

“What did you tell him, exactly?” I cut her off.

“The truth about what happened in Borava and who destroyed it. About the Lomoraji in the Darkwood. How the Sorvaraji was cast out, and how you–you killed the Vanator. The moon-cursed attack in Panja, and the portals they used.” She looked downcast, and her next words came out in a whisper. “And how I can use lunar magic–and you can, too.”

I leaned back, closing my eyes. “What about the Archives?” I asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “I didn’t say anything about that–or about your dagger. He didn’t ask about those things, so I didn’t have to tell him.”

I nodded slowly. “That…” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my rising temper under control. She was devout, a believer in her church. She probably felt that she had to confess for the good of her soul. Rationally, I couldn’t fault her, but emotionally? That was a different story.

“I know you’re angry,” she said softly. “And if you want me to leave, I will.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave,” I shook my head. “I need to, though. And soon.” I rose to my feet, ignoring the pain in my shoulder and the ache in my stomach and legs. “Do you know where my clothes are?”

She flushed and looked away from me. “You aren’t healed yet. You should stay, Ionat. The Cathedral could help you…”

I closed my eyes and took a deep, slow breath. “Renica, do you remember what that Sorvaraji said yesterday?” I asked as calmly as I could. She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off before she could. “Nandru is the head of the Vanatori–the people that came and destroyed your village. He knows Viora, so he could have recognized her through her augury, and with his authority, he could hide all sorts of things.”

Her face went white as I spoke. “But–he saved us,” she pointed out in a whisper.

“Or he came to the inn to make sure we were finished off. He destroyed the inn, you said; what if we were still in it when he did? He could have killed us and looked like a hero in the process.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide, her mouth open to protest, but when she spoke, it wasn’t an argument.

“You–do you think?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He might be totally innocent. But on the list of suspects for who could have destroyed your village…” I shrugged. “Who else should be number one?”

Renica blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes, but the emotion that radiated from her was rage, not sadness. “If he did…” She bit her lip. “And I helped him! Ionat…”

“Like I said, I need to leave,” I agreed. “Where are my clothes?”

“They–they were destroyed,” she shook her head. “The healers took them to be burned.” She turned quickly. “I have your pack, though. Vikarik carried it for you.” She tossed me the pack, and I quickly dressed, pulling on my simple Adaptive shirt, pants, and boots. She produced my weapons, and I began to strap them on quickly. She reached for her own gear and started putting it on.

“Renica,” I said slowly, but she silenced me with a look, her face set but her eyes stricken.

“You aren’t leaving me behind, Ionat,” she said. “I know I made a mistake…”

“It’s not that,” I shook my head, then paused. “Well, not just that.” I gave her a serious look. “This is your chance to get out, Renica. You confessed to them; that means that as of right now, you’re free and clear as far as the Cathedral is concerned. If you stay here, you can regain your life. You can go to a new village and start over.”

She shook her head rapidly. “No. I want to help you.”

“Last night, we all almost died, including Vikarik,” I reminded her as gently as I could. “It won’t be the last time, and we won’t always be lucky. Do you really want to keep risking your life? Hers?”

“We’re all safer together than apart,” she argued.

“I’m safer, sure. But you and Vikarik? You’re probably in more danger staying with me.”

“You’re assuming that you’re the only one being hunted, Ionat,” she said fiercely. “What if whoever’s after us is hunting me, as well? What if they want to kill anyone who survived Borava?” She crossed her arms, her chin lifted, and her face set stubbornly. “I’m going with you. We need each other.” Her eyes softened. “Neither of us has anyone else anymore, after all.”

I sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if you go with me, you’re turning your back on the Cathedral, at least until we understand more. No more confessions, no more loyalty to the people who might be trying to kill us…”

I fell silent as I felt a bright presence approaching the door. The presence felt like a banked fire or a distant sunset, glowing with orange-red solar raju so brightly I sensed it even through the wood. I quickly held a finger up to my lips, but it seemed that Renica had sensed the same thing I had, and she clamped her lips shut, stepping away from the door defensively.

The handle turned, and an old man walked in. He wasn’t as ancient as the Pretmaraji in Panja, but he looked to be in his sixties, at least. His hair was white and thin, nearly bald on top and slicked back on the sides so it pressed against his domed skull. His white robe had gold and orange trim along the collar and sleeves, and it fitted closely over a body that looked like it had once been muscular but had atrophied over the years. His light brown eyes still gleamed brightly, though, and despite his age, the man moved with the fluid grace of someone trained to fight. As he entered the room, his gaze quartered it quickly, checking behind the door, above his head, and flicking to the corners. This was a man who’d seen battle and who’d developed instincts the hard way.

His eyes fell on me and swept over Renica almost absently, and he reached up and stroked his thin goatee. “Going somewhere?”