“Yes. Yep. I would absolutely like to learn how to make those,” Ori said, eyes gleaming with sudden interest.

  During his downtime in the past week of magical fundamentals training, Ori had attempted, more than once, to reverse-engineer one of the spare void storage rings he had looted from Ghigrerchiax. To his disappointment, however, despite having a Transcendent perception ability that could normally unravel most kinds of enchantments, the nature of void storage rings meant that even his Vision of the Progenitor couldn’t see into the hidden dimensions where the vast majority of the enchantments lay.

  To Ori, storage rings were like making ships in a bottle as far as enchantments were concerned, except instead of being see-through, the only portion of the ship Ori could see came from the opening of the bottle. A bottle that, when broken, would lose everything inside forever into an infinite void.

  “Ah, that gleam in your eyes, boy. Seems like there is something of worth in this old soul of mine after all. Now, if I were still alive, I’d be asking you why I should teach you, but alas, since we’ve begun, let us not tarry any longer. Firstly, do you have an affinity for the Void, boy?”

  “My name’s Ori, and yes,” Ori said, attempting to cast his modified version of Light Orb, aspecting the mana with his Void affinity at the third level of comprehension. A dark ball floated above his raised palm.

  “A good start. Now, before we continue, Ori, do you have any questions?”

  “Erm, yes. Lots.”

  “Very well,” Martel sighed. “Then ask, boy.”

  Ori groaned internally at the use of boy, but decided to press on.

  “Where are we? How does this place work?” Ori asked, beginning with his most pressing concern.

  “We’re in a Soul Garden. Outside, your physical body is protected by a barrier. Inside, your awareness lies within an illusory space, the workings of which would be far beyond the limits imposed on us here to teach. As far as the most salient points go: I cannot harm you, and you cannot harm me. You are free to leave at any time, but once departed, you may never return. Here, you’ll experience time differently. For every day that passes outside, your awareness will experience one hundred inside the Soul Garden. As this is an illusory space, however, much of the magic, including enchantments you’ll be used to, will be inaccessible. This space will not be a place of experimentation, boy, only rote learning: repetition until all that this wisp can offer you is etched into your soul. Any more questions? Good. Now, let’s begin—”

  “Just one last question. How long—days outside, I mean, will this take?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. The longer you stay, and the quicker you learn, the better. But you’ll start to feel it outside when your body betrays you. Most mortals last half a day. A Nascent ranker, I should hope, especially one Lucen recommended, should last quite a bit longer.”

  “And this Lucen… Locke, is it? How, and why did he recommend me to you?”

  “It’s an open secret that most of the last Demon Bane’s past achievements were facilitated by his complementary divination class. How else could someone at the Nascent rank stay ahead of archdemons and devils for so long? With his abilities, he no doubt saw the karmic strings of fate between us and convinced me to take a punt on you. So count yourself lucky to be granted an opportunity many across this realm, and others would kill for. Now then, let’s begin.”

  “Ori, Ori, is that you?”

  Fifty days into his intensive instruction, Ori heard a warped voice come through over his bond.

  “Merin?” He paused his work, looking up as though he could turn towards her voice. “Are you alright?”

  “I… I know it’s only been a day. They’re moving me, and I just wanted someone to talk to. I’m scared.”

  “Are you alright? Have they harmed you?”

  “No, but…” Merin began in a whisper, then faltered.

  “But?” Ori stood, mind racing as he weighed leaving the Soul Garden.

  “A strange girl spoke to me this morning. She said she knew you and wanted to help me.”

  “What? Really? How?” Ori asked, wondering if Ruenne’del had made a move, though if she had, she’d likely have rescued the dragon by now. “What happened? Was it Rue?”

  “Rue? No. She said her name was Ayame. Is she not someone you know?”

  “Fuck’sake.” Ori sighed.

  “Boy, what’s got you in such a fluster?” Martel Wheeler asked.

  “It’s just… some stuff going on outside,” Ori replied.

  “Nothing from outside the Soul Garden should reach you, boy.”

  Ori shrugged. Despite the non-disclosure contract, instructor and instructee had settled into a don’t ask, don’t tell arrangement, which, despite his preference for discretion, had created a distance between them. Ori had started to suspect it was hindering their teaching relationship, as after fifty days, they were still going over the fundamentals of enchanting, the sort of thing Ori had believed he’d mastered back in his final trial in Lunaesidhe. He’d definitely improved, but the point of diminishing returns had long since passed. It was repetition for the sake of repetition, drilling basic journeyman enchantments he could do in his sleep.

  “Merin,” Ori said over his bond. “Did Ayame ask anything of you?”

  “I’m running out of mana,” she said in a rush. “She wanted to free me—I told her not to, that I turned myself in because they have my parents. She said she’ll…” Merin’s voice cut off. “Ori!”

  “Merin, I know someone who can find them, so don’t worry. I’ll find them for you, then I’ll rescue you, I swear it. For now, be good, okay? Rest and recover your mana. I’m in a special place right now. You’ve probably heard of Thorncross, haven’t you? Well…” Ori began to explain his situation, hoping his words would reassure the lonely dragon.

  Despite the time dilation between inside and outside, the rules of contact between his bonds seemed similar to those in the astral, with events split between waking intervals. So while Ori could talk for hours, and Merin could receive it all at once, Ori would have to wait for days before Merin, or anyone else, could begin a new conversation.

  As for the meddling Ayame, Ori tried to push her out of his mind. He feared the fae would get herself into trouble, but there was very little he could do.

  With the enchantment drills leaving space for his thoughts to wander, he often found himself analysing his past actions. How he’d latched onto Tess as soon as he’d recognised the spark. Had he pursued her so eagerly because he missed Harriet and Poppy so much, or was it the certainty of the elven bond?

  Meanwhile, his relationships with Freya and Ruenne’del had taken completely different paths. Freya’s bond had begun with malice, and Ruenne’del’s with oddness and a lack of any real connection. Too much of it, he realised, had been shaped by his past. A one-night stand followed by being ghosted had wrecked his confidence after high school, and then his abduction by Mel had coloured every interaction with the opposite sex ever since. To the point where he probably truly couldn’t trust anyone without an oath or a magical bond.

  If he’d arrived at Thorncross with his original intent to make connections and recruit talent, would he have treated Ayame differently? If he hadn’t suffered Mel’s abuse, would he have met Ayame’s approach with less suspicion and more grace?

  Despite the power and strength he’d accumulated, deep down, Ori still felt insecure. Yes, he’d made huge strides since his abduction and escape, and he now had a better sense of himself and who he wanted to be, but he knew there was still plenty of work to do. Work, Ori decided, may as well start now.

  “Mr Wheeler,” Ori said, standing from his workbench. “Is this all you intend to teach me?”

  “Oh? Are enchantment fundamentals beneath you now, boy?” Martel scoffed.

  “Actually, yeah. I believe they are, and carrying on like this is a waste of both our time.”

  “Insufferable—”

  “What is it that you want?” Ori asked, cutting off the irascible old man.

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you want?”

  “What makes you so sure you’d have anything I’d want?” Martel sneered..

  Ori exhaled, then sent his full page from the Library of Fate across.

  “You tell me.”

  Silence stretched for minutes. Ori watched the old, finely dressed man’s expression shift from indignation to confusion, to a shock so sharp it settled into a long, focused study of Ori’s life as Fate had recorded it.

  “High Human. The Progenitor…”

  “I am,” Ori confirmed.

  Another pause followed as Ori waited to see if his gamble would pay off.

  “If you could satisfy my curiosity, what are the specifics of evolution?” the older man asked. Curiosity lent his tone a civility that had been absent until now. Ori smirked when he realised the man had dropped the condescending “boy”.

  “To evolve into a High Human, you’ve got to master one of the paracausal energies until it forms a seed inside you. As for the benefits: a base lifespan of a hundred and seventy-five years, an extra class slot up front, then another at Greater and Immortal. An extra inherent affinity, your Will doubles, and you get a racial ability called Will of the High Human that temporarily boosts your class abilities ninefold.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Martel Wheeler frowned. “Only a hundred and seventy-five years?”

  Ori shrugged.

  “And your descendants? If there had been an increased lifespan, that alone would make it a certainty for many to reach Immortal rank.”

  Ori shook his head. “There’s no bloodline inheritance. No Altus Progenitus. Not for humans, at least.”

  “What?” Martel snapped. “For whatever blasted reason would you do that? You had the chance to elevate our race to supremacy, and you squandered it. Why?”

  “Because I know exactly what we’d be like if we ever got that position,” Ori said. “Thraxis, one of the librarians, once explained why I became a Demon Bane, and why humans, more than other races, produce Banes. A lot of it comes down to racial karma. Concepts I didn’t really understand until recently. As a race, we get a handicap, a kind of protection, because we’ve got a tendency to provoke atrocities that we, through these concentrations of karma and fate, can return onto our adversaries tenfold. High Human or not, we’d lose that protection with bloodline inheritance.” He shook his head, then sighed. “Yeah, I know I’m going to get scolded by everyone when it comes out, but I didn’t want to be the reason multiple genocides happen.”

  Martel’s gaze dipped. “Yes, your White Mage class…” he sighed, sounding almost weary. “You’ll be condemned from a lot of directions for those choices.”

  “That was always going to happen.”

  “Indeed. For a boy outside of Fate to become the first…” Martel trailed off, then steadied himself. “Never mind. You asked me what I want. You won’t kill someone for me, will you?”

  “I wouldn’t go out of my way to kill anyone, no.”

  “Not even if they were assassins?”

  Ori laughed. “Why would I deliberately choose to get involved with assassins?”

  “You’ll almost certainly have no choice, boy, not as the High Human… Anyway… If someone’s body and soul were stored separately, but kept intact, could you bring them back?”

  “Bring them back? You mean resurrect them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably, assuming there aren't any complications, that’s something I could do.”

  “My son.” Martel’s voice turned hoarse. “My entire family was wiped out by competitors, secrets stolen, assets destroyed. I want revenge, but I’d settle for my lineage continuing.”

  Ori nodded, and Martel pressed on.

  “There’s an open quest for it in the Summons Guild. They keep the time and place confidential. But, with my enemies watching the strings of karma, it’ll likely draw them to him, and by extension, to you, if you complete the quest and revive him.”

  Ori hesitated before answering.

  “Tell me everything, and then tell me what I’d get in return.”

  Martel’s empire was built on one invention that rewrote trade: Void Soul Storage. A soul-bound storage space whose contents could persist through life and death, time, and Fate, carried by the wearer as though the ring itself was the anchor. It was the kind of artefact kings coveted, because no matter how ingenious or sinister the attempt to pry open its protective enchantments, the contents of a Void Soul Storage Ring would remain bound to the ring, which in turn would remain bound to its owner, even in death. Ori felt a cold click of recognition as he listened to his story, recalling that the ring Ruenne’del had given to Raven was likely Martel’s work, or a successor of it.

  That same innovation had made Martel the nail that had to be hammered down. He tried to negotiate with the hostile trade cartels, offered licensing, exclusivity contracts, anything that might let everyone save face. The Summons Guild, of which were the greatest beneficiary of his product, extended the sort of protection it always did: cautious, partial, and only while it was convenient. In the end, it wasn’t enough. Competitors who couldn’t out-enchant him moved to erase him, tearing apart his family, stealing his research, and dismantling Tesseract through sabotage and forged claims. Ori noted all of it: the guild’s limits and the hollowness of its promises, the crafting cartels, and the unregulated, cut-throat reality of High and Arch enchanting, where artefacts were strategic resources for realms and even civilian items could trigger grand machinations.

  Knowing which way the wind was blowing, Martel Wheeler had put contingencies in place. The open quest lodged with the Summons Guild was one. Another was the wisp of his soul left behind here, and across Fate, a calculated bet that someday someone powerful enough would come along, see what had been done, and decide that his story, his contribution to Fate, and his lineage would not end with his death.

  “I’m not really looking for an oath, since a favour like this is too large a trade to ask for,” the man sighed. “But I can give you everything: the theoretical framework, the complete set of enchantments, and the prototypes for the alternatives. You’d be my successor in all but name, and perhaps, when you’re on firmer ground, you’ll remember this old man’s hope and look after his son.”

  Ori nodded, his mood sombre. While he was certain the man was withholding many other secrets and contingencies, Ori felt the general nature of this agreement to be worthwhile despite the complications. “I’ll do it. It won’t be soon, but in about a year, if not two, I should be strong enough to bear the consequences of reviving him.”

  “Good,” Martel said, under his breath, then repeated it louder, as if trying to rouse himself. “Good. Good! And if you can build on these enchantments of mine and one day stick it to the cartels, all the better, Ori boy. Good! Good!” He laughed with genuine joy as he slapped his thigh, his sour expression replaced by someone whose hope and energy had returned.

  Still, despite the lift in the man’s mood, Ori couldn’t help but feel he’d taken on yet another burden. While his interests, affinities, and enchantment path overlapped heavily with Martel’s invention, he might still have refused if he hadn’t felt the faintest nudge towards accepting the quest. An instinct Ori was starting to suspect had more to do with his Fate affinity than he would have liked.

  Even so, if his plans to incorporate modern techniques such as photolithography into enchanting panned out, and his Cosmic affinity could substitute for Void, then perhaps this opportunity would be worth the unspoken promise to revive a descendant after all.

  “Ori? It’s Tess. That girl, Ayame, she showed up not long before you entered the Inheritance. She… approached us at dusk, just after we met with Caoimhe, my new instructor. It was really strange. I… I think she’d been watching us, but Rue saw through her. Rue told her you’d give her one last chance. She didn’t want to explain what she meant then, but shortly after that, there was a third beam shining from the monoliths, and Rue said it was her.”

  “Wait, really? But wasn’t she fae?” Ori asked.

  “That’s what I said, but Rue said she has human blood, or at least a human parent.”

  Ori remembered Fera Linea, the fae phenomenon where offspring from mixed lineages, where one parent was fae, were always born fae of a random type. For example, despite Ruenne’del’s father being a celestial, she was one hundred percent Leanan Sídhe, a High Fairy race wholly distinct from her Archfae mother. It made Ayame’s presence at Thorncross, and their earlier interactions, a little less suspicious if she’d been there for other reasons.

  “Alright. I should be done in a day, two days max. My body outside could probably last for weeks, but I want to get out before you face those demons, and while it might be too late, the less attention I can draw, the better.”

  “Yeah, definitely too late for that,” Tess chuckled lightly. “Never in Thorncross’s history has two light pillars shone at once, let alone three. Rue told me to tell you not to worry, though. When you leave, you’ll get teleported out somewhere at random, so you won’t immediately be harassed. Also, she said to pass on that she already knows where the dragon’s parents are.”

  “She does?” Ori asked.

  “The main Keep, inside the central palace, deep in the capital.”

  Ori sighed. “Got it.”

  “What’s it like in there?” Tess asked.

  “Better now. We came to an understanding on the first day, and now I’ve mastered the original void storage enchantment, and I’m moving on to the more advanced stuff. How are your lessons with Caoimhe was it? How’s that going?”

  “Good. She’s at Strafhollow now, working with me on assessing… Oh… I’m low on mana.”

  “Alright. Take care of yourself, Tess, and keep Rue out of trouble.”

  “I will. I…” Tess began, then changed what she was about to say. “Come back soon.”

  “I will.”

  Almost a year had passed within the Soul Garden, while only three and a half days had passed outside. His own light pillar, the beam that signified the bestowal of an apprentice, had outlasted the other two by a day.

  Ori had contacted Tess over a hundred days ago in response to Merin’s call, only to receive a reply now, which must have been the day after outside.

  Once again, his thoughts drifted to Ayame and, to a lesser extent, Eloise. Was this all Lucen’s doing? Based on what he’d overheard, it seemed likely he was offering Eloise a helping hand either because of Ori or because he wanted Ori to do the same for his inheritor. As for Ayame, Ori would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious which monolith had accepted her, and whether the former Demon Bane had anything to do with it.

  For the time being, Ori pushed those thoughts aside and continued his crafting odyssey, one that had been far more amiable and productive since their agreement. Martel Wheeler’s personality still carried most of its old airs, but his new outlook, combined with genuine curiosity, had drawn him out. He often told Ori stories from his past, his family and son, along with crafting and industry secrets, and long-lost concepts and ideas, plus potential sources for future learning and experimentation.

  In return, Ori spoke about his life and recent adventures while he worked. Outwardly, Martel received his stories with a stoic passivity, as if little of what happened in the land of the living was his concern, but Ori had detected a shift in the way he addressed him. For instance, 'Boy' had become 'Ori boy', which Ori could only take as progress.

  As for crafting, Ori could now, given second or even third-rate materials, make a void storage ring in the space of several hours. It was like enchanting a sock, except when the sock was folded inside out, the body of it, and most of the enchantments, vanished into itself in an irreversible process that established the void storage space, the user interface, and the security protocols all at once. As far as enchantments went, the process was thrilling: each success was an all-or-nothing reveal of skill and enchanting proficiency, where a single failure could destroy materials and waste time and mana.

  Still, many of Ori’s questions about storage rings had been answered: why they were rings, the materials required and why, and the general characteristics and limitations of the enchantments. For example, Abyssal Void was most commonly used for its ability to keep contents in stasis, and for its security, due to the natural tendency for unauthorised access to lose whatever was stored within.

  Meanwhile, learning the interface aspects of the rings had expanded Ori’s horizons far beyond his previous level. By day four, he was itching to experiment, but with the Soul Garden’s limitations and his self-imposed deadlines, those efforts would have to wait. Even so, during mental breaks, he picked up unrelated enchantments, sketched ideas for the next version of his Prototype Array of Du?lism, and designed weapons he could enchant to face the Name Eater.

  “Let’s say I have an ability, but I’ve got no way to use it because it requires an affinity I don’t have, or one that’s opposed to me. Is there any way around that with enchantments?”

  “You’ll need a surrogate,” Martel said sagely.

  “What’s that?”

  “Someone with the affinity you lack, to infuse the ability-binding construct I showed you before—with the right aspect. Simple in practice, except when it’s in opposition. Then I’d recommend finding an apprentice to act as the surrogate’s focus.”

  “That sounds long.”

  “Indeed. What’s this for, Ori boy?”

  “You know that quest I’ve got to deal with in a few months? I need to kill a Pinnacle-rank Greater Curse Elemental.”

  “You need to kill something? For a White Mage, you certainly do have a high propensity for violence, not that I know much about the Chromatics, rare as they are.”

  “I think…” Ori began. “I think this Curse Elemental is the reason why. The Chromatics are rare, I mean. It’s called the Name Eater. From what I understand, it can not only kill, it can erase all evidence of its deeds and the ones it’s killed, from Fate. It devoured entire realms, and the Chromatic mages who tried to take it down were hit the hardest.”

  “And you’ve been tasked with facing this threat?”

  “Yeah. The elemental was a former Black Mage. The damage it’s done and could still do…” Ori’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t like it when I was given the responsibility, but this creature threatens the whole of Twilight, so if I’m able to, I’m going to put it down.”

  “How noble,” Martel grunted. “Though I’d expect one capable of slaying a fallen god and redeeming infernal souls to be no less.” He mused, then nodded. “Yes, I suppose it’s good our race’s fate rests in someone whose grit can match their ideals.”

  “I’m not all that idealistic,” Ori scoffed. “And I have no interest in messing with the entirety of humanity. I intend to settle down on Twilight for a time, so I might as well deal with the housekeeping first.”

  “Good, good, good,” Martel chuckled. “Fearless. Not even a Pinnacle-rank elemental can make you blink. Oh, to be young and fearless. Show me that bladeless dagger with the soulcraft binding, will you?”

  Ori did so, showing him the Dagger Ori had used to slay one of the Wardens of Ghergierax. While discussing his adventures, Ori had often shown the man his enchantments as visual aids during storytelling.

  “Crude, but this could be expounded upon given the right shape. Let me ponder over this for the next few days. For now, I believe you’re ready to learn the pinnacle of storage enchantments, don’t you?”