IGS #4, Chapter 6

Scorio

The light streaming through the windows was the burnished amber of midday. Scorio blinked, passed his hand over his face, then sat up. The threadbare sheet pooled about his waist.

“Hey, look who’s still alive.” Kelona sat in one of the windows. The wall was deep enough that each sill was akin to a bench. “You ready to tackle the rest of Hell?”

“Hmm,” said Scorio, scratching at the back of his head and rising to move over to a wash basin. The air was cool on his bare chest, and the water refreshing on his face; he scrubbed vigorously, then cast about for a towel before remembering there wasn’t one.

It was a ruin he was sleeping in, after all.

Kelona watched him, chin resting on one raised knee, arm wrapped around her shin. “Seriously though. You doing all right?”

Scorio inhaled and considered. “Yeah. Better. Sorry to have worried you guys.”

“Don’t be. We understand. You’ve…” She trailed off, considering. “You’ve been through a lot. More than I can imagine, at any rate.”

Scorio wiped the water from his face and grinned at her over his shoulder. “You were there with me on the Bone Plains. I’m sure you have an idea.”

Kelona’s smile faded. “I mean, sure. To a degree. Some of it. But the really crazy stuff you went through only happened after my death.”

“What was that like, by the way?” He stepped closer. “Being dead? You remember anything?”

She tongued the inside of her cheek, stared off into the distance, then shook her head. “Not really. One moment we were in the thick of it, inside the wall, Tokulauths everywhere, the next I jumped… and then nothing. It was like falling asleep. Except I woke up on my back as one of the Imperators flew down the tunnel, reviving everyone who was still around. Or in enough pieces to be revived.”

“So no visions of the archspire, or…? Because when I woke up, back in the Academy Gauntlet, I had this broken memory of violence, a fight…”

“Right, yeah. We were told about that in class. Apparently we get those same fragments each time we reincarnate. It’s the last memories, or moments, I guess, of our first life. The first time we died and were bound to the archspire.”

“Oh.” Something else he’d missed while surviving in Bastion’s ruins. “So that happened a thousand years ago.”

“Right.” Kelona’s smile turned apologetic. “Sounds like we all ended that first life badly. My memories are of being smothered to death under sand.”

Scorio stared at her.

“Right?” She laughed. “Awful. I had nightmares about it for weeks.” She shuddered. “Trust me, you don’t want to die that way if you can help it.”

He grinned. “Duly noted.”

For a moment they just smiled at each other, but then Kelona peered at him a little closer. “Seriously though. How are you?”

“I’m…” He shrugged one shoulder. “Fine?”

“I mean, I feel way out of line here, asking you of all people how you’re doing, seeing as I’m just a Flame Vault, and—well—am I still your student? I don’t even know.” Kelona’s smile was nervous. “But we’re going to be traveling together, right? So… yeah. I just…”

“It’s fine,” said Scorio. “You’re not my student anymore, if you even ever were. And you’re right. We are going to be traveling together, which means you need to speak your mind and not hold back. And… yes. I’ve been through a lot, I guess.”

Kelona went to say something then bit her lower lip.

But Scorio could practically hear the name she’d been about to say.

Naomi.

He looked at the stone floor. “Moira was lecturing me about this challenge we upper ranked Great Souls face. It’s no longer about having enough ambition, or discipline, or training or whatever. It becomes -”

“Keeping your heart intact,” said Kelona softly. “I know. She came by last night during the party to speak with you, found you asleep, and told us some when she realized what was going on.”

“Let me guess. She gave you advice on how to handle me?”

Kelona grinned. “No! Of course not. Absolutely not.” She paused. “Well. Maybe.”

“Great. What’s it involve? Encouraging me to be nice to myself?”

“Something like that.” Kelona’s smile was wry. “But mostly just trying to get you to talk. About things you don’t want to talk about. And being understanding if you get… like, remote, or… cold. Not take it personally.”

Scorio rubbed the base of his palm into his eye. “I’m not about to fall apart.”

“Nobody said you were!” Kelona sat up straight. “I’ve seen what you can do, Scorio. What you’ve survived. If there’s anybody in this town—ruin—that knows what you’re capable of, it might be me.”

“Yeah, well.” Why did her words make him feel tired? “It’s amazing what you can do when you don’t have a choice.”

Kelona nodded vigorously as if in complete agreement, then hesitated. “You didn’t have a choice?”

“No. Not really. Not if I wanted to continue being myself.”

“Oh, I see. Right. Your principles.” She nodded vigorously again. “Finding the truth about Hell, helping the weak.”

Scorio went to protest, then snorted. “Fine. Yes. Something like that.”

“I just… I just want to say…” Even her tanned features couldn’t hide her flush. “That I’m—I mean, I really respect you. Is it weird that I keep wanting to call you ‘sir’? That is a bit weird. But no, seriously—” Her words were speeding up even as her expression became more panicked, “—what I saw you do in the tunnels, on the Bone Plains, how you looked out for Wesyd and Juna and I, and then, to know you helped bring down the Blood Ox, it’s beyond anything I can even— and I just want to say I’m honored to be coming with you—”

“Kelona.”

“—even if I’m just a Flame Vault, and I can’t believe I’ll get to help you, and if there’s anything I can do, anything at all… by the Hells why can’t I stop talking—”

“Kelona!” Scorio raised both hands as she clamped her own over her mouth. “It’s fine. Honestly. I appreciate what you’re saying. Thank you.”

“I’m going to go die somewhere else now.”

“No!” He laughed. “Seriously. It’s fine. But…” How to convey the flat, heavy feeling that lay over his heart? The sense of pre-emptive exhaustion at striking into the Silver Unfathom? How her bright-eyed intensity made him feel old and worn and unequal to the task? “Just… take it down a notch. I’ve been lucky, and, well, determined. I’ve done some important things, but… just remember what you said before. We’re traveling partners now. You, me, Xandera, and Nyrix. This will only work if we’re… I don’t know. Relaxed with each other.”

“Relaxed, got it.” She was still blushing. “I’m totally going to relax. Any day now.”

“Great.”

“But, in regards to what Moira said last night, if you ever do want to talk to someone—even if they’re a blathering idiot—I’m here, all right? I’ll always—always—be happy to listen. I’ll even stay quiet and not offer any opinions if you prefer.”

“Got it.” Her stare had become intense again. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She studied him as if checking the sincerity of his words, then smiled nervously. “Moira asked that we send word when you woke up, by the way. It seems she wants to tell us about the Silverine fiends in the Unfathom? And do some Pyre Lady training with you. Shall I go tell her?”

“Yeah.” Scorio’s stomach rumbled. “And find Nyrix and Xandera. They should hear this, too.”

“They went to get lunch.” She swung her legs outside the window and hopped down, so that she became visible only from the waist up. “All right. I’m going to go tell her.”

“Great,” said Scorio, nodding encouragingly.

Kelona took a step, smiled back at him, then took off at a jog. The moment she was out of sight Scorio exhaled, blowing out his cheeks and moving to the window.

Objective number one: get Kelona to calm the hell down.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and stared out into the shattered street. Though he’d been pretty nervous when he’d first met Druanna, hadn’t he:? It was only after traveling with her and Naomi for a week or so in the Iron Weald that the awe had begun to fade.

Time, then.

Kelona just needed time to get to know the real him.

To stop thinking of him as her teacher, or superior.

He reluctantly acknowledged the way her eyes had traced the contours of his Gold-tempered upper body, and went for his robe.

Time, would settle at that, he hoped.

A few moments later Nyrix and Xandera trundled into view. The young blazeborn queen was hopping and skipping alongside Nyrix, her glowing orange hair swaying turgidly with each bounce, while Nyrix carried a broad wooden tray over which a simply hand towel had been draped. He listened attentively to whatever Xandera was saying with an air of bemusement.

“Ah!” Xandera caught sight of Scorio in the window. “He’s awake! At last!”

“Thought you might be hungry,” said Nyrix, moving up to the window and setting the tray down on its sill. “So we fetched you some rations.  Apologies, though. Doesn’t seem like there’s anybody who knows how to cook willing to put in kitchen duty.”

“Smells great,” said Scorio, lifting the towel and casting it over his shoulder. Beneath were a set of plain clay bowls filled with steaming mush. It was hard to tell what they were, exactly, but one was brown mush, one was a pale, creamy mush, and the third was a pile of wilted green vegetable mush.

“Lianshi’s not coming!” wailed Xandera, who’d darted around and in through the main door to reach Scorio’s side. She clutched her hands beneath her chin and stared up at him with her burning eyes. “And you’re really sad!”

“I… yes.” Scorio turned and crouched before the young queen. Of course. Xandera and Lianshi had spent almost two weeks together on the journey here from the Fury Spires. In Xandera Lianshi had found an eager audience for her every tale and theory about Hell, and in Lianshi Xandera had found an ideal friend, endlessly patient with her questions and as eager about the world as she. “I’m sorry. I wish she was coming, too.”

Xandera lowered her chin. “I’ve had all night to accept it, but I’m… it felt like we were building a mobile hive together. The three of us. I know that’s foolish, but my kind… we queens don’t spend time together.”

“One queen per hive?” prompted Scorio.

“And all blazeborn within it subject to her will. We become queens in truth. What we expect, happens. What we demand is done, and none are our equals. Here, in Hell, with you Great Souls?” Xandera gestured past Nyrix who was listening with sober interest. “All is chaotic. Friends can come, and friends may go. None are truly subject to our will. It feels bewildering. My instincts aren’t serving me well.”

“It’s the same for me,” said Scorio softly. “Not that I’m planning to be obeyed, but that…” His throat tightened. “Friends come and go. And it’s never easy.”

“I liked Lianshi,” protested Xandera softly.

“Yeah. Me too. Maybe we’ll see her again.”

“Maybe,” allowed Xandera, but she didn’t seem convinced. “I suppose… when you leave me, I’ll return to the Iron Weald to form my own hive at last.”

“I don’t intend to,” smiled Scorio sadly. “Unless something bad happens outside my control.”

Xandera nodded. “Such is the way of Hell. I…” She reached out and took Scorio’s hand, her own dark skin smooth and dry and warm. “I’m glad we’re going to travel together for a while longer.”

“Yeah.” Scorio felt his chest swell with emotion, but he knew it wasn’t just because of Xandera’s words. “For as long as we can.”

“And Nyrix, too!” Xandera looked up to beam at the Dread Blaze. “He’s a good listener, but he doesn’t seem to have much to say.”

“How do you know?” Nyrix’s smile was enigmatic. “Perhaps I’m bursting with interesting stories but can’t get a word in edgewise.”

Xandera’s eyes widened. “You’re bursting with stories?”

“Ah,” Nyrix straightened. “It’s entirely possible, but I guess we’ll never know since you have so many interesting things of your own to share.”

“Oh good!” Xandera clapped her hands together. “We’ll have lots of time to talk as we travel south. Lianshi would tell me stories about all the fiends and layers of Hell. You can do the same!”

Nyrix gave Scorio a worried glance. “Sure. I can try. But Lianshi sounds like she was an expert.”

“You can do you best to copy her,” said Xandera dismissively. “I won’t hold you to her standard.”

“Oh,” said Nyrix. “That’s good. Thanks.”

Scorio rose and took up a wooden spoon. “I can’t wait to hear your stories, Nyrix. Count me in.”

Nyrix glared at Scorio. “Not helping.”

Scorio grinned then saw a group of newcomers round the distant corner. He inhaled slowly, deeply, and the other two immediately picked up on his tension. Xandera popped up to her feet and gripped the window’s ledge so that she could peer over it, golden eyes wide. Nyrix looked back over his shoulder, and then seeing who was coming, turned all the way around.

Moira, Kelona, Jova, and Leonis.

Scorio stepped out the front door, Xandera trailing behind, to stand beside Nyrix.

Leonis.

The sight of the big man brought a rush of emotions, an infusion of memories, and despite everything he knew, everything he’d been told, his breath caught in his chest.

Leonis. The very first person he’d met in this life. Once his jovial companion, his boon friend. An endless source of good cheer and resolve.

But it was clear that Leonis had been different from this man. The robes hung a little looser upon this Leonis’ powerful frame. His shoulders looked somehow broader, his chest wider, his middle trim. He’d been putting in the work. His dark brown hair was gathered back in a ponytail that hung down between his shoulder blades, and his beard was worn close to the jaw.

But it was in his stare that the real difference was manifest. His brows seemed permanently furrowed, his eyes slightly narrowed, his gaze sharp, piercing, skeptical.

If this was the very first time Scorio was meeting him, he’d be wary.

But he brought up the rear of the group. Before him strode Jova, her faded black robes dusty, her sash trailing down the side of one thigh. Her stare was as intense as ever, her lips pursed, but something was amiss. Scorio knew her well enough, this incarnation, that he could sense… hesitancy? A brittle kind of uptightness? Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

In comparison, Moira was self-contained and self-effacing, while Kelona was all wide-eyes and nerves.

“Scorio.” It was Jova who spoke first. Kelona hurried over to stand beside Nyrix. “I wanted to thank you again for my journal.”

Scorio kept his tone neutral. “You’re welcome.”

Leonis crossed his broad forearms over his chest, raised his chin, and leaned back on his heels.

“I read some key entries.” Jova was staring fiercely at him, as if watching for some sign of derision. “Discovered some new information.”

“What Jova’s working herself up to saying is that she wants to trave with you into the Silver Unfathom,” said Moira smoothly, hands linked behind her back. She weathered Jova’s furious glare with ease. “And Leonis has agreed to travel south with you all as well.”

Scorio’s heart started pounding. “That so?”

Leonis tongued the inside of his cheek, but was clearly content to let Jova do the talking.

Jova’s tone grew brisk. “You recall the Jova that your past self left his message with? From two centuries ago? The one who wrote your warning in her journal?”

Scorio nodded.

“She was… impacted by those warnings. She spent the rest of her life searching for signs of that truth. And uncovered a mysterious Great Soul ruin in the Unfathom. Her last entry documented her intention to explore it.”

“A ruin?” Scorio couldn’t hide his curiosity. “The Herdsmen? The Lost Cube?”

“The Silverines called it the Tomb of Sadness. Beyond that, I don’t know, but my past self found it worth leaving LastRock for to investigate.”

“She leave directions or a ways of finding it?”

“Yes. The directions are enigmatic, but yes. But there’s more. My most recent incarnation. Who fought the Blood Ox?”

Scorio nodded again, fascinated.

“She was betrayed at the end of her life. Stated in no uncertain terms that she should have listened to your warning. Urged me, should I ever return and reread those words, to heed your cause. Said that you were right.”

“Damn,” said Scorio, absorbing the implications.

Moira’s smile was slight. “Thus my previous suggestion that you join forces now makes even more sense. Leonis here was invited by Jova to accompany you all.”

“We’ve been training together,” rumbled Leonis, and Scorio still knew the man well enough to hear the tension in his voice. “It’s an opportunity for me to test myself, to grow stronger.”

“Sure,” allowed Scorio, and though that wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear, he wasn’t surprised. Lianshi had warned him of Leonis’ bitterness. “Trials and challenges are guaranteed.”

“Look, Scorio.” Jova took a step forward. “I know you don’t trust me. You have reason. I won’t contest that. I’ve been…” She considered, frown lines deepening. “Led astray, and made… poor judgement calls. I…” Her hesitation, or inability to find the right words, drew out awkwardly till Scorio raised both brows, at which point Jova flushed. “I’m sorry. For my past actions. For my… short sightedness, and obsession with finding the quickest path to power. I recognize now that it was a mistake.”

“Jova,” began Scorio, but she cut him off.

“I don’t expect you to accept my apology. I don’t want nor need us to be friends. What’s done is done, and the only thing I can control now is how I act and behave from hereon out. Thus my desire to help you uncover the truth about whatever killed me twice in the past. I have here -” And she tapped her robe where no doubt her journal was stored, “directions to this Tomb. We could travel there together. All of us. And see what we discover.”

Xandera rose to the balls of her feet and clasped her hands together. “Moira? You’re coming?”

“No,” smiled Moira, expression fond. “Alas, I’ve more than enough to keep me busy here till the Pit closes.”

Xandera sank back down. “Oh.”

Scorio studied Jova. She was all but glowering at him, ready for him to throw her apology back in her face. He glanced up and over at Leonis, who was doing his level best to pretend he had all the emotions of a granite cliff.

To travel with them both again.

Scorio inhaled raggedly.

Out beyond the realms of logic, rationality, and common sense, it felt… right. It felt good. Familiar faces. A shared past. The prospect of traveling together awakened his excitement for the journey.

“This Tomb sounds promising,” he allowed. “My target is a mobile base, however. The Lost Cube. I’ve figured out the path it takes.”

Jova shrugged one shoulder. “The Tomb was said to belong to the Good Shepherds. Your Herdsmen might have had more than one base. And this one, at least, we already know about.”

Scorio considered, then glanced to Moira, who nodded in encouragement.

“Travel companions.” He tested the words. There was no point in pretending either Leonis or Jova would be more than that. At least, not at first.

Fool, he heard Naomi hiss. How many times do you need this traitor to stab you in the back before you learn your lesson?

But she’d helped him kill Praximar. Had expressed her unerring confidence in him before his duel against Plassus. Had given her all to the war effort against the Blood Ox.

And there was no denying her power. How she would tilt the odds in their favor.

But more than that.

With her he felt himself. Not a mentor, not a big brother, not a battle-scarred hero.

Just Scorio.

And she had precious intelligence as to their foe.

“Sure,” he said at last, and a tremor of relief and satisfaction passed through him. “We can travel together.”

“Excellent,” said Moira, inclining her head in what might have been thanks. “I’ve no doubt as to the importance of your quest. Anything that raises the odds of your success is of the utmost value to all of us.”

Jova’s dark gaze glittered, and then she, too, inclined her head. “Travel companions.”

“Travel companions,” agreed Scorio. “Nothing less, nothing more.”

Leonis grunted. “When do we leave?”

“First,” cut in Moira, “you all need a little orientation on what’s awaiting you in the next layer of Hell. The Silverines can be… overwhelming.”

And just like that it was done. Jova and Leonis would travel with them into the south. Their team had grown from four to six.

Incredible.

They entered Scorio’s stone house, everyone drifting to the benches that lined the wall. Leonis remained by the door, arms still crossed, to lean against the jamb. Moira moved to the back so that everyone could face her.

“I’ll try to be succinct,” she began. “The Silver Unfathom is a strange realm. Like its mana, it’s fiends and landscape are mercurial and difficult to pin down. It’s one and a half times as far to cross as the Telurian Band, but if you’re not careful, it can seem much, much farther than that.”

“Because of the Silverine Suns,” said Jova.

“Because of the Silverine Suns,” agreed Moira. “Which represent the ultimate evolution of the Silverine fiends. They’re a wondrous race. Or species. Or collection of species. In short, they evolve as they absorb mana, rising from mindless eel-like fiends that throng the many silver pools to ultimately become, well, complex, massive… monolithic entities that are too complex for us to converse with. Those, in turn, become or somehow join with the Suns that hang in the Unfathom’s skies, which are literal spheres of incredible power that warp everything in their vicinity. If you stray too close, you’ll be pulled from your current plane of existence into a mirrored reflection, and that’s where you can truly get lost.”

“They create alternate planes of existence?” asked Scorio.

“Reflections, yes. Great Souls can wander through six or more versions of the Silver Unfathom without realizing they’ve gone astray, becoming separated from their companions, turned about, and lost within versions of Hell that have completely different landmarks, denizens, everything. Fortunately this multiplicity is limited to the Unfathom, so that ultimately everyone either emerges back into the Telurian Band or the Lustrous Maria. The unwary, however, may lose months as they seek their lost companions, or travel in circles in alien landscapes.”

Scorio caught sight of Kelona’s worried glance, but ignored it. “So we stay away from the Suns?”

“That’s what Great Souls did before the Red Road was laid down,” agreed Moira, “but even then it was a chancy affair. It wasn’t until the Red Keep was established and the thirty waystations planted along the Road’s length that a safer route was created.” Moira spoke over Kelona’s question. “Because since its founding a Charnel Duke or Duchess has always presided over the Keep, and maintained an unbroken chain of continuous Dominion so that the Keep is an island of constancy in an ocean of change. Dominion that extends not outwards in a great circle, but along the length of the Red Road. Great Souls who stay on this ancient road will safely find their way.”

Scorio nodded slowly. “So if we keep to this road, we won’t have any difficulty?”

“Correct. Unfortunately, our strength in the Silver Unfathom has been massively reduced by the war against the Blood Ox. The Twilight Lady has remained at her post throughout, however, maintaining her Dominion. If you stay on the Red Road, you’ll find safe passage through the Unfathom.”

“But our quest will take us all over the place,” protested Kelona.

“The Tomb of Sadness is not on the Road,” agreed Jova.

“Then you’ll need a guide.” Moira stated it as simple fact. “A Silverine fiend who can help you navigate the overlapping layers.”

“So they’re friendly?” asked Nyrix. “The fiends? I’d heard they were… unreliable.”

“To be sure. As mercurial as their realm. But Scorio here has a knack for befriending fiends, and our kind’s history is littered with tales of Silverines taking a fancy to us. They’re drawn to the waystations. In fact, the first waystation on the border of the Band and the Unfathom is usually thick with them, each angling for favor. You’ll not have much difficulty finding one who’ll agree to act as your guide. The trick lies in managing that partnership so that they prove… reliable.”

Xandera sniffed. “They shall do as they are told, or suffer the consequences.”

“What else?” asked Jova. “This Twilight Lady. Reliable?”

“Absolutely. Insofar as she’s ruled the Red Keep for over a century.” Moira raised a hand to forestall questions. “Lady Krula can slow time, and she’s no crone. I’ve never met her, but heard that she looks just a little over forty years old. The story is that she lost her identical twin a century ago, and refuses to go deeper into Hell until she finds her. Regardless, she’s withstood all the politics and backstabbing that’s infested the Red Keep for over a hundred years. So she clearly takes her responsibilities in the Unfathom seriously.”

“And these factions?” Scorio almost didn’t want to ask, his mind returning to the intrigue that had roiled the Fury Spires. “Anything we need to know?”

“Fortunately for you, the political game in the Unfathom was decimated along with everything else. I’m sure it’s ramping back up again as everyone returns to their posts. As far as I can tell, the main faction that still operates against Lady Krula is a movement to siphon the Silverine Suns for their mana.”

“Siphon?” Xandera’s tone was rich with contempt. “You mean enslave?”

“No, siphon. The Suns…” Moira considered. “They’re fiends, in a sense, but no longer sentient. Not in the way we understand. They’re vast reservoirs of power that detonate every couple of centuries or so, completely changing the landscape of the Unfathom and causing all the Silverines close by to evolve. This political faction argues that even one Sun possesses enough Silver mana to empower every Great Soul from the Unfathom all the way up to Bastion for years. It’s said that even Bravurn considered the scheme until he settled upon the blazeborn and the Gold trade as safer and more profitable.”

Scorio’s expression was sour. “And the reason it’s not done?”

“The Suns are akin to gods to the fiends of the Unfathom,” said Moira simply. “Attempting to siphon one would begin a religious war.”

“Let me guess,” said Jova. “It’s not an option because we’d not win, not because it’s wrong.”

“Correct. Though the Unifiers, as the faction calls itself, argue that there are ways to accomplish it without bloodshed. Regardless. Just steer clear of them and their madness.”

“Done,” said Xandera promptly.

“Our path might take us into the Lustrous Maria,” said Scorio. “Anything we should know about that?”

Moira laughed. “It’s even bigger than the Unfathom. If you’re going in that direction, ask the Twilight Lady for information. She’s become an expert over the years, seeing as she’s had to contend with the continuous disaster that the Maria has been all these years.”

“Fair enough,” said Scorio. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Now, to bureaucracy. Scorio’s asked that I oversee the swearing of your Heart Oaths,” said Moira, smoothing her robe over her thighs. “To make sure you’re not beholden to the Herdsmen in any way, nor associated with them, nor hiding anything about them that you haven’t shared so far. Nyrix, Kelona? Are you willing to swear this Oath?”

“Yes,” said Kelona, and then raised her chin. “As long as Scorio does the same.” She flushed and looked his way. “I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but if you’re this paranoid, then, well. Nyrix and I were talking it over. We deserve the same consideration.”

Scorio inclined his head. “That sounds fair.”

“Good. I mean, thank you.”

“Wait.” Jova’s stare was flat. “We have to swear Heart Oaths now? I wasn’t aware of this condition.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Scorio kept his tone mild. “Nothing elaborate. Just enough to make sure we’re all on the same team.”

“I’m not a Herdsmen,” rumbled Leonis. “I’ve nothing to hide. I’ll swear that oath.”

Jova glanced at the big man, then sighed. “I’m obviously not one either. But fine. After what happened with Krantar and the Shadow Petal, I guess I understand.”

“And Nyrix has agreed to let me touch him,” continued Moira calmly. “Unless you’ve changed your mind this morning?”

“I haven’t,” said Nyrix, flushing slightly as everyone looked at him in surprise. “I understand the risks involved, but. Well. The benefits are immense, to us and our mission.”

Scorio hesitated. He wanted to urge the man to not risk himself, but he glanced at Moira then subsided. Hadn’t she earned their trust? And Nyrix was right. Communication while out in the wastelands could be crucial.

“Good.” Moira’s smile was all business. “Then let’s get this done so I can assist Scorio with his Pyre Lord abilities. Ready?”

Now it was Scorio’s turn to feel his face heat up as he steadfastedly ignored Jova.

“Scorio needs help with his vortices?” Jova’s tone was, if not artless, then carefully neutral.

“I’m always open to pointers,” said Scorio, rising to his feet. “We’ll make it quick. I want to head into the Unfathom today.”

Jova raised an eyebrow, and for the first time that day actually smiled.