The first portion of Caen's mind was focused on casting a spiritual scan.

  The second portion of his mind watched his own soul structure, specifically his aura, noticing the changes that occurred within it. Both Sh'kteiro and Hshnol had mentioned how spell constructs were primarily formed upon the auras of spellcasters. Caen had begun to map the effects of this in various soul structures weeks ago. Percipients could sense this easily enough using their own auras, and so Caen was trying to replicate that with Soul-sense.

  The third portion of his mind watched Ergen’s soul structure. His father was reading leisurely on the dining table while attuning mana. Chasma was wrapped around some frozen meat that Caen had purchased from Southway. He’d been feeding it everything he could lay his hands on, even shadeling parts.

  “Don’t you want to take a break, son?” Ergen asked, looking up from his book. “You’ve been at this for a few hours.”

  “I'm alright, Dad,” Caen whispered, the portions of his mind still focused on his task.

  His voice had become too melodic once he'd raised his vibration magic affinity out of abjection. He was still adapting to the change in his voice and either needed to cast spells to mask it or whisper as he was doing now.

  “Well, it's just…” Ergen began. “This seems tedious. Don't you get… tired.

  “Dad, I'm cheating. I enjoy this. Figuring out magic, understanding it. It doesn't feel like tedium when I'm doing something I love.”

  Ergen’s eyes watered. He blinked back tears and quickly turned his head down, as though to read his book. Voice laden with emotion, he said, “Well, carry on then.”

  ***

  Caen scaled a fence and smoothly climbed onto the roof of a bungalow, and could hear the muffled sounds of the entertainment center within. Up ahead, Guinevere jumped onto another building.

  [Zeris, are you sure you don't want to join us?] Guinevere sent. [We’re still nearby.]

  [Twisting my ankle or falling off the side of a building for fun?] Zeris replied. [Yeah, no, thank you. I'll just wait down here.]

  It was 10 at night, and the Drenlin nightlife was in full swing. Here in Southway, the closely packed buildings rose and fell in height, and the lights were dim. His physical eyes could see a lot better in the dark now that he'd raised his Gleam magic affinity out of abjection. His speculon had also received a slight upgrade, but it made sense to get used to his improved eyesight.

  Caen slid under a pole, somersaulted over a light gathering array that jutted up five feet, and scaled another wall with deliberate and adroit placements of his hands and feet.

  In spite of the increase to his frame and build over the past month here in Drenlin, Caen had gotten much more comfortable with his passive augmentations in Body-enhancement. Free running with Guinevere and some of her other acquaintances was helping with that.

  He made the jump to another rooftop, caught himself on the lip of it, and launched himself upwards.

  Behind him, someone else made the jump, slammed into the side of the building, and fell with a “fuuuu—ugh!”

  Caen turned back immediately. This happened sometimes, and the runners usually just shook it off. [Gwen, someone just fell,] he sent, as he looked down the two-story drop.

  [Oh, shit. I'm coming.]

  [Like fucking clockwork,] Zeris sent.

  ***

  Aunt Grena took a sip of tea, leaned back in her chair, and let out a sigh. “It’s so nice not to have to go into the courthouse today.”

  “You've said that like ten times already, Mom,” Zeris mumbled from across the dining table. In the same breath, she ripped open another section of the bag of holding she'd been torturing all day, examining the embedded enchantments.

  “If I say it a few more times, maybe it'll become true,” Grena replied.

  “There’s nothing wrong with taking a break, Aunt Grena,” Caen whispered, as he used Flora magic to stitch a pocket onto his coat. Doing this without a needle was tricky, but he managed just fine.

  Both Zeris and her mother turned to give Caen identical flat looks.

  “You of all people telling me that,” Aunt Grena huffed. She glanced at the orbs of fire moving in intricate patterns over his head.

  “I take breaks from time to time,” Caen said in a whisper while making a particularly complex stitch with a spell chain. At the same time, he changed the pattern in which the orbs of fire were dancing. “Sometimes I even sleep.” He turned to Zeris. “Oh, sorry. ‘Sleep’ is a word used to describe—”

  Zeris laughed. “Buzz off. You sound so shady whispering. Everyone knows I sleep.”

  Aunt Grena scoffed softly.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Mom!”

  “I didn't say anything.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Why are those two taking so long? I'm tired of sitting still.”

  Caen's parents had left to pick up groceries at Southway market hours ago. They were planning a big family dinner for Uncle Teiro tomorrow.

  Caen flipped his coat over and began stitching on another pocket.

  “You realize they won't do any cooking till tomorrow, right?”

  Aunt Grena sighed. “Yes. Which means they'll take their time shopping.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Zeris said, turning to Caen. “You said you were going to invite Hshnol over for dinner?”

  “You know how he is: terribly civil, quiet, and aloof,” Caen whispered. “He politely declined.”

  “Just the way I like my men,” Aunt Grena said, picking up her teacup.

  “Ancestors, Mom!”

  Caen chuckled.

  ***

  Out in an open field, Caen exchanged heavy sword strikes with Vensha.

  He was placing a lot of pressure on her. He sent vines and ropes at her limbs to interfere with her movements. Some were on the ground, others were wrapped around his own body, darting for her.

  All his attacks were empowered by Body-enhancement spells. He alternated between his own affinity and hers. His mind was split three ways and working overtime. His Dream-guarding affinity had risen to a rating of 2 recently, though, to his immense disappointment, it hadn't brought any staggering benefits.

  He flickered Soul-sense at her irregularly, hoping to throw her timing off. She'd learned how to resist these existential interruptions over the past month, but that required an active application of her will.

  Caen weaved out of the way of her swing. A rope on her right leg lashed onto her left to unbalance her. As she resisted it with a Body-enhancement spell, Caen slapped his sword against her knee. She leapt backwards with a grunt, but he stayed on her.

  Today, she was only using spells to prevent herself from being ensnared, for the most part. Some days, he was the one who went through the sessions without casting spells.

  Their swords clashed several times in a breath. A vine around Caen’s waist wrapped around the wrist of her sword arm. She tore free from its grasp, straining Caen's working. He parried her sword and kicked her.

  She dodged with an empowered body this time, but cut off the spell just before she struck at him.

  Caen blocked her sword, but still staggered back from the force of the blow.

  This was much more power than she could bring to bear without using a spell. Yet she hadn't cast one. Her soul structure felt more weighty, more vibrant. Something had changed.

  She hadn't followed up on her attack, choosing instead to stand back, breathing a little heavily. “I… I think I…”

  “Congratulations,” Caen said, smiling at her.

  Peak Attuner. She'd advanced.

  She let out a breathy laugh. “I’m… very surprised.”

  Reaching the final substage of Attuner required one to directly train and push their familiarity with their passive augmentations to the limit. It typically took years of practice and dedication.

  “Do you feel any stronger?”

  She nodded, examining her physique. “By quite a bit, actually.”

  “These sessions are about to get a lot more difficult for me, aren't they?” Caen asked.

  When she lunged at him, it was with an empowered body.

  ***

  After having dinner together, the entire family was putting away the dishes and cleaning up.

  “If you don't leave now, you'll miss the airship,” Sh'leinu said to her brother.

  “I still have a good few hours before it'll come to that,” Sh'kteiro said, wiping a wet dish. “I'll make good time trekking there quickly.”

  “For all the Entity’s lights, just use the train!” she laughed.

  Sh'kteiro chuckled. “Just this once, I'll consider it.”

  After a round of goodbyes and Sh'kteiro congratulating Vensha once more on her advancement, Caen escorted Sh'kteiro back to Drenlin.

  They talked on the train about the upcoming trials and Planar light, which his uncle really enjoyed discussing. He'd even participated in some channeling competitions in his youth, and still made a hobby of making intricate designs with Planar light.

  At the temple, Sh'kteiro took a rickshaw to the airdock in Eastway, where an airship waited for him.

  It was late in the evening, the sun had long since dipped behind the horizon, and the night lights of the city were coming on.

  Caen leisurely walked back to the train station, joining in on a good-natured argument Zeris and Gwen were having over the telepathic link about who was older. Caen had turned eighteen a week ago, making him the same age as both of them.

  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled his head in that direction but found nothing. He glanced around in search of anything suspicious. Pedestrians walking past, carriages, street vendors.

  Nothing, still.

  He returned to Beslin by train, climbed the stone steps to the commune, and walked into his family home.

  As he headed for the cooling box, he caught a glimpse of something that caused him to halt in his tracks.

  Caen's blood ran cold.

  There were black glyphs on the ceiling, just above the dining table. These were identical to the ones he'd seen in Redshadow and at the Valiants’ lodge.

  Heart thudding in his chest, he cast a Fire spell, panning the room with caution.

  A mental detection spell told him how many people were nearby. Vensha, in her room downstairs. His parents, Zeris, and Grena were upstairs.

  There was no one else in the house. The press of presences he usually felt when in proximity to living things all but corroborated this.

  Ancestors beyond.

  He called everyone out, unwilling to move lest the glyphs vanish as they had before.

  While they sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of the strange markings on the ceiling, someone came knocking.

  Vensha went to answer the door. She turned and shut it behind her after a moment. “It's a message from Hshnol. He says he's gotten in contact with a language expert. They’ll meet with you in a few days.”