IGS #4, Chapter 16

Scorio

Scorio awoke to a gentle shake of his foot. Darkvision revealed Kelona crouched in the mouth of his cavern, her expression at once nervous yet challenging. When Scorio sat up, she rose smoothly to her feet, gestured for him to follow, and exited onto the ridge.

Curious, Scorio rose silently and followed her outside.

Kelona Ignited as she reached the ridge’s edge, shifted into her golden form, and dropped lightly to the cavern floor below. Bemused, Scorio simply leaped down after her, his Gold-tempered body allowing him to take the drop without needing to do more than lower into a crouch when he hit the ground.

Kelona reverted to her human form, led him around the curve of the cavern so that their sleeping area became hidden from view, then turned at last to face him. “Um. Do you think they can hear us out here?”

Scorio glanced back, but the sleeping caves were hidden from view. “I shouldn’t think so. What’s on your mind?”

“I… I know you were happy to have them join us, but Leonis and Jova…?”

“Hmm?”

Kelona winced. “They’re not exactly a barrel of laughs.”

“No,” agreed Scorio, unable to resist a smile. “I think that’s accurate.”

“And Leonis… I’m confused. I thought you guys were best friends in his past life, but that fact seems to only make him….”

“Hate me?” Scorio stared out across the cavern. He sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“Well, I don’t want to pry, but Nyrix couldn’t explain it either. Since we’re going to be trapped in here for some time, I was hoping you could explain why? And if you knew how he felt, why’d you agree to his coming along?”

“A fair question. I… it’s complicated. And I only have this information second-hand from Lianshi. I think…” Scorio sighed. “I think he blames me for not being taken more seriously.”

Kelona frowned. “How so?”

“My enemies—Praximar and Manticore—used him, lied to him, about what happened in his previous life. And then exaggerated how special he and Lianshi were this time round. As a means to get back at me, I think. Or perhaps pure sadism. I don’t know. But when he found out he’d been used as… bait? It hurt his pride. And my successes since then, my rapid advancement. That hasn’t helped.”

“Oh,” said Kelona. “So he’s jealous.”

“I mean…” Scorio tried to square his thoughts. “The Leonis I knew and loved was a profoundly good man. This one has to be, too. He’s just all twisted up. It’s my hope that by traveling together, training together now, he can start to see the real me, and not the person he’s built me into being.”

“Hmm.” Kelona lightly punched one hand into the other palm. “And Jova? I can see she respects you, but there’s this distance, this coldness that has to mean something.”

“Jova?” Again Scorio considered. “That one’s complicated as well. When Manticore betrayed my friends and I—killed the old Leonis and Lianshi and had me blamed for Kraken’s supposed assault on the Celestial Coffer—she found a way to accept that. To believe the lies she was told, and keep her eyes fixed on the quickest path to power.”

“Oh.” Kelona blinked at him. “And you still let her joining us?”

“I wasn’t. Up until just before we left, at any rate.” He gave her a tired smile. “But…” How to explain? The gulf of exhaustion and loneliness? “She helped me kill Praximar. She dedicated herself to helping defeat the Blood Ox. She’s… on some level, I understand her. The purity of her drive. I had it myself, before.” He thought of the mindless, brutal way he’d pursued Ignition back in the ruins under Naomi’s tutelage. “But Jova’s defined by that ambition. Or was. Her being here now, having refused offers to go into deeper Hell and serve under the Seamstress and the like—I think she’s changing.”

“You think.”

“I hope. And…” He frowned. “You know how you felt after we lost Juna and Wesyd?”

Kelona’s face fell. “Yeah?”

“That’s what I’ve been wrestling with. And… I don’t know. Maybe on some really basic, stupid level, I appreciate having familiar faces around. Folks who know me.”

“Like Jova. Even if she betrayed you.”

“People change.” Scorio smiled tightly at her. “At least, I think they can. I don’t know if she deserves a second chance, but when I saw that her coming along would mean Leonis joining the team…?” He shrugged. “I’m taking the chance. On them. On us.”

“I mean, I trust your instincts on this. Obviously.”

“Don’t be so sure!” Scorio laughed. “My emotions have gotten me in serious trouble before.”

Kelona matched his smile. “Far as I can tell, they’ve steered you right. But yes, I know. Sacrifices. Losses. Casualties. But. I was there, don’t forget. On the Bone Plains. Fighting alongside you and Naomi. I saw what you did, what you tried to do. And when I died it was because I didn’t listen to you. If I had…” Kelona lowered her gaze. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to apologize for ever since. You told me to ride your back, to let you fly me up. I chose to jump instead, and that got me killed. It was my not listening that did that. If the Imperators hadn’t flown through the tunnel, hadn’t found my corpse…”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. That entire day was sheer madness.” Scorio thought of Plassus roaring his commands, the close-quarters combat inside the Wall, tokolauks everywhere, Great Souls screaming and fighting and dying. “That was pure bad luck. You can’t take responsibility for that.”

“No?” Her eyes flashed. “I remember disobeying you and dying. Seems cut and dry to me.”

“I don’t think so. Regardless. What’s done is done. We’re here now.”

Kelona inhaled deeply, gaze troubled as she stared off into the mists. “Yeah. We made it.”

Almost Scorio could see Juna and Wesyd standing where she stared, gazes hollowed out, insubstantial ghosts who lived on now only in their shared memory.

Kelona gave herself a shake and then grinned. “Well, good talk. What do you say to an impromptu training session? Unless you’re too sleepy?”

“Heh,” said Scorio, then filled his voice with false bravado. “I’m Gold-tempered! I don’t need sleep! You get any?”

“Plenty. Some. Enough.” Kelona windmilled her arms, then crossed first one over her chest, pinning it and stretching her shoulder with the other, then reversed it. “But in case you’ve forgotten, I’m just a little ol’ Flame Vault. If I’m to help you guys down in the Lustrous Maria, I’m going to need to advance, fast.”

“You should be working on your mana control if you want to make Dread Blaze.”

“Sure. In time. But c’mon. You telling me you haven’t missed a good old fashioned sparring session?” Her smile was provocative, her teeth white against her bronzed skin.

Scorio shook his head in mock resignation. “Kids.”

“Kids?” She pretended mock-outrage, but bounced briefly on the balls of her feet and then fell into a combat stance, fists raised. “Come at me, old man.”

Scorio eyed her, then grinned. “I’ve got a better idea. Hold on tight.”

Kelona rose from her stance in confusion as Scorio jogged lightly back to the sleeping caves and flew up to the right ridge. He poked his head into one cave, and saw Leonis was awake, sitting cross-legged against the wall as he meditated.

The big man cracked open an eye suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

“Morning,” smiled Scorio. “Or afternoon, or whatever it is. Kelona’s looking for a training bout. I thought you could oblige her.”

“Me?” His frown seemed instinctive as he sought for something to protest.

“You’re both Flame Vaults. I think your powers will make for an interesting and relatively safe fight. Plus you’re looking to desaturate, right?” Scorio raised an eyebrow. “Well, here’s your chance for a final brawl before you get to work.”

“Sure,” he said, and rose to his feet. “Why not? I’ve been curious about how we match up.”

They emerged from his cave to find Jova standing in the mouth of her own, arms crossed, brow furrowed. “We starting early today?”

“Just a friendly training bout,” said Scorio. “Kelona’s looking for some practice.”

Leonis leaped down to the cavern floor, briefly encasing himself in plate armor as he dropped to land with a metallic clang, then dismissed his power to approach where Kelona was drifting up uncertainly to meet him.

“He won’t hold back,” said Jova quietly.

“Kelona’s looking to be pushed. And her golden form is pretty damn resilient.”

Jova studied him sidelong. “You trying to draw Leonis out with this?”

“Draw him out?” Scorio crossed his arms. “Maybe. Desaturating will isolate him pretty thoroughly. Maybe he’ll find common ground with Kelona.”

“Maybe,” said Jova.

The Flame Vaults separated, each striding farther out to turn and face each other. The terrain was composed of knee high dunes of pale sand and the occasional ridge of rock, deterring sprints. Scorio couldn’t deny it: he was curious to see how this would pan out.

For a moment neither Flame Vault moved, both staring intently at each other.

Then, abruptly, they Ignited.

Kelona’s form flashed gold as she crouched.

Leonis extended his arm to pluck Nezzar from whatever realm it rested in while not summoned, its dark, hexagonal form blazing with sigils.

Kelona hurled herself at Leonis, flying forward in an explosion of stone fragments as she activated her leaping power.

As fast as she was, Leonis still had time to summon his armor. It clothed him from head to toe, encasing him in massive plates of gold, his height and breadth rising as his very frame grew, so that from one moment to the next he went from robed acolyte to monstrous knight, Nezzar gripped two-handed and drawn back over his shoulder in anticipation of a swing.

Kelona was bolt of liquid metal: her form blurred as she crossed the intervening yards, and just before she hit, a split second before contact, she blazed with power, letting loose her Queen Flare.

Even at this remove Scorio could feel the awe and intimidation that the power unleashed. He’d experienced it point blank a couple of times, and only his Dread Blaze status then had made him immune to its charge.

Leonis had no such luck.

He faltered, stepped back, and for a pivotal moment lost focus as Kelona’s might washed over him. His swing faltering.

Kelona’s fist struck him across the helm like a meteor, and then she was past him, carried by momentum, to hit the ground at such speed that she fell into a roll, splashing through a puddle as she went over and over to come up on her feet.

Leonis staggered, four small grooves indented in his face plate. He put his hand to his helm, gave his head a small shake, then shrugged his huge shoulders and oriented on Kelona once more.

But now six copies of Nezzar appeared around them forming a perimeter, each vertical and with runes blazing.

“She’d better finish him quick,” said Jova. “His draining effect will hit her hard.”

Leonis brought Nezzar back over his shoulder. He still looked a little unsteady—her direct punch to the head had rattled him—but he settled in, not interested in trekking across the cavern to engage her.

And why would he? Time was on his side now.

Kelona glanced at the Nezzars around them, considered, and this time hurled herself upward.

Good. Repeating the same maneuver would be to invite disaster.

Up she flew between the great daggers of rocks, disappearing between momentarily.

Leonis craned his head back, tracking her ascent.

“Move,” muttered Jova. “Don’t just stand there.”

But Leonis seemed rooted to the spot. His helm, Scorio realized, had fixed itself, pushing out the grooves so that it was smooth once more.

That was good.

Then Kelona plummeted down into view, dropping right upon where Leonis stood. Again she blazed with her Queen Flare, but this time it seemed less bright, less impressive.

Leonis averted his head and swung.

Nezzar slammed into Kelona, connecting with her torso from hip to opposite shoulder. The strength behind the blow was palpable; Kelona folded around the club before crashing to the ground and rolling away.

Her golden form was warped, her chest furrowed and widened. Not seeming to feel any pain, she scrambled upright, but Leonis took two strides and swung Nezzar behind himself and around and up to catch her under the chin.

The blow had all of his strength behind it, and her head snapped up as she was lifted off the ground to arc up and crash onto her back.

“Ouch,” said Jova, tone emotionless.

Scorio winced.

Before Leonis could close again, Jova dug her heels into the rock and activated her leap ability. She did so blindly, with the result being that she burst out sideways along the ground, hiccupping and rolling over the stony ridges as she traveled perhaps a distance of ten yards before fetching up against an upward rising blade of stone.

Leonis began marching in her direction.

“Come on,” whispered Scorio. “Get up.”

Kelona did her best. She rose unsteadily to her feet. She was in bad shape, her head distended, her upper body wobbly, but she angled herself so as to check Leonis approach, glanced about, and then leaped once more.

This time she sailed right over the approaching Golden King, flying high and slightly off the mark to land awkwardly beside one of the perimeter Nezzars.

She grasped it by the handle, and heaved.

The floating club resisted but then tore free, only to promptly disappear.

“Smart thinking,” said Jova.

Leonis began to move with greater urgency. Turning, he pounded toward Kelona, who moment by moment was filling back out, but she didn’t wait—again she leaped, flying high over him to land beside another club, and again forced it to dissipate.

“No long range attack,” said Scorio. “And limited mobility. It’s his weakness. She could evade him for the rest of the bout and force him to a draw.”

“A losing tactic, though. She lacks a sufficiently strong attack to drop him.”

Again and again Kelona leaped over Leonis, and one by one his perimeter clubs were dispelled. Leonis gave up chasing her, his frustration obvious, and simply planted himself beside one of the floating clubs to protect it.

Kelona’s golden form had healed up completely when she tore the second-to-last club free, but at that point her Heart guttered and she returned to her human guise.

A second later, Leonis did the same, his face ashen from effort and sheened with sweat.

“Damn!” Kelona’s laugh sounded forced. “You got me but good with that last hit.”

“To no real effect.” Leonis snuck a glance at where Scorio and Jova stood, then shook his head. “Didn’t look like you even felt it.”

“I don’t feel pain,” agreed Kelona, “but it’s really weird to try and move around when I’m all bent out of shape. Used to make me nauseous at first. Did you even feel my punch?”

Leonis rubbed at his cheek. “Sure. But not as much as that emotional punch of yours.”

“My Queen Flare.” Kelona’s shoulders sank. “Not that it really made a difference.”

Both Flame Vaults were making their way to the base of sleeping caves, Kelona looking resigned, Leonis bitter.

“You’re both missing a key piece of your puzzle,” said Scorio, dropping down to meet them. “You’re fighting without all your powers. I’m sure your Dread Blaze abilities will complement and round out what you’ve currently got going.”

“You think?” Kelona’s smile was half-hearted. “Because right now I feel like a shiny flea, just leaping around and achieving nothing.”

Leonis clenched his jaw, clearly biting back his own self-recriminations, and looked away.

“I’m pretty sure. Remember, you’re both Flame Vaults. Stands to reason that you’d be fighting to a draw.”

“And not everybody’s suited to one-on-one combat,” agreed Jova, leaping down to join them. “Some people work best in a group. Others have powers that give them an edge on exploring Hell, or manipulating others. You would both knock Moira on her ass.”

Kelona snorted. “Unlikely. But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I just need to train harder,” said Leonis, still looking away. “Deepen my reservoir. Outlast my foes. Swing Nezzar harder. Everything will be improved once I’m Silver tempered.”

Scorio hesitated. His instinct was to immediately leap in and reassure the man, but something told him that would only invite scorn.

Jova, to his surprise, nodded. “More power can’t hurt. You both need to focus on making Dread Blaze. And while dueling is fun, the only way you’ll accomplish that is by finessing your mana control.”

Kelona sighed. “I know.” Then she brightened. “Hey. Do you two want to spar each other? I’d give anything to see that.”

Leonis finally tore his gaze back to raise a brow in interest.

“Hmm.” Scorio considered Jova, who met his gaze with a flat stare. “I don’t think so. Our powers wouldn’t play well together.”

“I’m tempted,” agreed Jova, “but a decisive win would probably involve killing the other person.”

“Especially seeing as one of your key powers is not taking damage.”

“To a degree. Your Pyre Lord status might overwhelm it.”

“Guess it’s not worth finding out, though.”

“Not if I have to die to prove my hypothesis.”

For a moment they held each other’s gaze, and Scorio felt his pulse picking up. The idea of fighting Jova as a dragon was… appealing. She’d pummel him with rocks, he’d deflect with his Shroud, and if he could withstand her barrage and get in close enough, bathe her in black flame even as she fought to frighten him away with her horrific illusory self.

Would his fire overwhelm her regeneration power?

Could she simply take him down by directing a score of boulders to smash his head in all at once?

Tempting.

Kelona was grinning. “I think you guys look like you want to try.”

Jova tore her gaze away. “No.”

“No,” agreed Scorio. “Not a good idea.”

The moment passed. Nyrix emerged from his cave, stifling a yawn and blinking down at their group. “I miss anything?”

“A good bout,” said Scorio. “Kelona and Leonis are well matched.”

Kelona snorted. “Insofar as I can’t hurt him, and he can’t catch me if I keep jumping.”

“Match made in hell,” grinned Nyrix, then yawned massively again. “Oh man. Makes me wish we were back in the war camp with the pillars. I wouldn’t mind running a lethal bout between us all as long as we got to reverse time, after.”

“You?” asked Kelona.

“What?” Nyrix blinked down at her.

“You don’t seem the bloodthirsty type.”

“You think I made Dread Blaze by accident?”

To which Kelona could only shrug.

“Well, the fun’s over.” Scorio forced himself to speak with more authority, to wipe the smile from his face and look in control. “Since we’re all up, we might as well begin training in earnest. We’ll begin by running laps. Ready?”

The others glanced at each other, taken aback by his new tone, and then nodded.

“Then see if you can keep up.” And Scorio took off at a run.

*

Training.

Days passed and they fell into a routine.

Days passed, and Scorio found himself changing, not only in relation to the others, but in how he understood himself.

Fear and uncertainty reigned in the back of his mind, kept him awake long after the others had passed into slumber. Fear that their experiment would result in everyone’s death. That he’d not be the leader they needed him to be. That he’d not weave their disparate personalities into a singular whole, greater than its disparate parts.

Fear that he simply wasn’t enough, wouldn’t be able to rise to the moment. That his desire for companionship, to be understood, to have his intentions understood and approved of would doom them all.

In response to these fears, he hardened himself and became cold. When jokes were told, he walked away, leaving the others to chuckle uneasily and watch him depart. When complaints were made, good natured or teasing, he schooled his features and stared down those who explored the potential for extra rest or a slackened pace.

He saw himself behaving this way. Knew he was overcompensating. That there was room for a gentler hand, a more compassionate approach, but fear drew him short. Because he knew, he knew the cost of failure. Not just death, for in many ways, death for their kind was the easy way out. But madness.

Lying awake at night, he’d see gold in the air above him, the ghost of gold, the haunting eternity of being interred forevermore in the Crucible, and his skin would crawl, his hands would knot into fists, and he’d vow relentlessly to see his friends out of this tomb.

He was the first up at what they’d decided to call dawn, the first to finish his food, the first to set the pace for their morning run. He pushed himself hard, and his Gold-tempered body gave him an innate advantage even over Jova’s relentless athleticism. Always he led the pack, urging them faster, to loop the cavern again and again until the others were dripping sweat and gasping for breath.

Only then would he turn them over to Jova’s morning routine, which he’d follow but exceed, always pushing himself to work harder, to do more reps, to execute with exacting form her every demand.

The others saw his brutal lack of self-regard, and sought to imitate him.

His appetite grew ravenous, and fiend flesh the constant reprieve. Grilled and seared, they experimented with different cuts and found that by far the muscular tentacles were the best source of sustenance. Bland and rubbery, the taste soon began to gall, such that Kelona and Nyrix took it upon themselves to concoct spices from different parts of the pink bushes or scrape white crystals that they hopefully termed ‘salt’ from the cavern walls.

It helped, but there was no disguising the taste of Silverine flesh.

True to his word, Leonis labored apart. He joined them for the morning run and exercises, but after lunch would move to the far end of the cavern, out of sight, to begin carrying large rocks over one shoulder all the way back to their home caverns and their pile them high. For hours he labored, grunting and sweating, gasping and cursing, until at last he could labor no longer and collapsed, boneless and exhausted, upon the fruit of his labors. Only to rest as long as Scorio allowed before carrying it all back.

Meditation was both a balm and a unique trial. There were moments when Scorio was able to absolve himself of all thought, exhaustion allowing him to slide away on streams of soft reverie from which random thoughts and memories surfaced and then faded. But other times he simply sat there, frowning as he fought with his fears and concerns, playing over schedules and the group’s mood, evaluating Xandera’s progress vis-a-vis the depth of their water pools.

Heavy was the weight of responsibility.

Moira checked in as always via Nyrix, her immediate concern giving way to wary approval over their usage of their time. Scorio was tempted to request a rescue team, for her to mount a mission south to aid them in their escape, but bit back the urge. They weren’t in mortal danger. This truly was an opportunity for growth. Nyrix’s relayed messages indicated that Moira thought as much; she encouraged them all, but otherwise remained distant.

And through those first days Scorio found in Jova the perfect partner. She spoke little, but was always present, her dark gaze taking in everyone’s efforts, constantly watching Scorio as he gave orders and ensured everyone stayed busy. She exercised without complaint, and seemed to take comfort in their every difficulty. Her dour, steady presence by his side silenced Leonis’ potential complaints, helped Kelona maintain a more professional attitude, and challenged Nyrix to push himself harder.

They didn’t grow closer, Scorio and Jova. They didn’t sit during the rare quiet moment to compare notes or reminisce. But Scorio found himself coming to depend on Jova’s solidity, her commitment to their regimen, her unwavering focus and strength.

For over the course of those first dozen days the very silence and lack of distraction began to reveal aspects of everyone’s character that he’d never noticed before.

Where Jova was eternal focus and resolve, Kelona revealed herself to be temperamental and prone to enthusiasm and depressions. She watched him with something akin to avarice, leaping to obey his every command and thrilling at any word of praise, only to subside into moody silences when left alone, gazing out at nothing with a troubled expression on her face.

Whereas Nyrix proved himself Jova’s mirror, steady, disciplined, but without fire. He tackled every task without complaint, but rarely pushed himself to his maximum. Oh, he sweated and struggled with the rest of them, but always it felt as if at a remove; as if he watched their efforts and his own training from high above, dispassionate and disinterested. There was no fire there, no burning resolve to do better, to shatter his own limits.

Leonis grew more withdrawn with each passing day. Scorio’s attempts to draw him back into their orbit during meals was rebuffed. The big man was clearly taking his attempts to desaturate as a form of welcome penance, or perhaps even a form of glorified suffering. He embraced his isolation and disdained overtures. But there was no denying the effect it was having on him; his gaze grew hollowed, his hands rough and torn from handling the rocks, his beard thickened by dust and dried sweat.

The highlight was always combat against the Silverines. Caution led to their opening passages to different surrounding caverns, and though they used the same setup as before the first few times, they soon began to vary their approach so as to test each other. Always Jova and Scorio stood ready to intervene, but with each third day they would test Kelona or Nyrix by allowing them to battle a Silverine or two on their own, pushing themselves against the brutally hard opponents.

Kelona failed to kill a fiend. She could avoid them with her leaps, dismay them with her Queen Blaze, even batter them with her fists, but kill them? Each time Scorio had to step in and rescue her as she grew too exhausted.

Nyrix, on the other hand, rarely had to push himself hard. His ability to teleport around the cavern with portals allowed him to pepper his foes from a distance with burning crossbow bolts, dropping them after three or four hits, but that was equally dissatisfying for Scorio. The Dread Blaze rarely looked engaged, executing his foes with calm professionalism.

And all the while Xandera burned a path down and away, heat rising from the mouth of her tunnel in continuous shimmers as she labored to find their way out.

The answer to their problems, Scorio knew, lay in his leadership. His ability to inspire and keep the lower ranks on track. Each member of his team was a unique challenge. Each required a different tack. They had just under three months to break through their limitations, and it was up to him to help them achieve the impossible.

Or that was his plan until the day Xandera approached him, skin ashen from effort, blazing eyes downcast.

“What’s wrong?” asked Scorio. She wasn’t due for her break yet. In fact, today’s shift had just begun.

“I…” She sat cross-legged beside him, the baking heat coming off her a delight in comparison to the cavern’s cool dampness. “I’ve been waiting to make sure, but now I know it’s true. The Silverines…”

Scorio lowered his sliver of braised meat. “What?”

“They’ve been burrowing around us.” She glanced up at him, expression fearful. “They’re cutting us off.”

Scorio felt himself still as the implications settled home. “Can we still escape? Is there a path out?”

She shook her head, expression disconsolate. “I’m sorry. They’re burrowing through the remaining shafts of good rock, but at a distance. As I’ve burrowed deeper, I’ve been able to extend the range of my senses, and that’s why I’m only seeing it now. They’ve been encircling us. Maybe since we locked ourselves away in here.”

Scorio nodded slowly, keeping his expression studiously neutral. “And it looks deliberate?”

“Very. I don’t know why they haven’t simply dug into our cave if they want to eat us, but…” She shrugged one slender dark shoulder. “The only reason I can imagine is that they’re looking to cut off our supply of Silver mana. Once we’re surrounded, none will get through to us.”

“So they mean to weaken us.” Scorio grimaced and looked away.

“If I went all out, if I grew into my full power, I could maybe dig a tunnel out in time,” protested Xandera, touching his elbow, tone urgent.

“Maybe?” He studied her youthful features, her burning eyes. “How confident are you?”

“That we’d avoid a fight?” Her shoulders slumped. “Not very. But at my full power, I might be able to just destroy them all.”

“That’s a lot of maybes.” Scorio stared down at his skewer of cooked flesh. “And if they encircle us completely—how long till we run out of Silver mana?”

“I don’t know,” said Xandera, tone distraught. “It flows through the rock slowly, so some would continue to refill our cavern even when we’re cut off. But I don’t know for how long.”

Damn it. Scorio closed his eyes briefly, internalizing the bad news.

So much for their peaceful training session.

“All right,” he said, forcing his tone to remain calm and confident. “Time to alert the others.”

“I’m sorry,” said Xandera, voice growing very small.

“Hey.” He bowed his head to meet her crestfallen gaze. “Don’t apologize. None of us asked for this situation. We’re all just doing our best.”

Xandera nodded, still upset.

“Seriously. Xandera. I know that you’ve given this situation your all. Now we just have to figure out a new solution.”

She brightened. “Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet,” he lied. “But I will.” Scorio rose to his feet and took a deep breath. “I will.”