Regis sighed and massaged his forehead as he sat on the floor beside Eliah in the washing area of their hut. The girl hadn't so much as stirred since she'd fainted at the arena. The rise and fall of her chest was shallow and laboured, and a sheen of sweat blanketed her pale, clammy skin. The glowing metal embedded in her flesh continued to burn brightly, exuding waves of unbearable heat and he was at a loss as to how to deal with it.

First, he tried stripping the girl down to her smallclothes and blanketing her in water-soaked linen. All he'd gotten in return was a heap of charred cloth and blinding clouds of steam.

After that, he'd carried her into the wash area, dumped a bucket of water on her, then gone to a nearby creek to fill up several more and repeated.

It hadn't helped, and there wasn't much more he could do. Like any other true-blue Seren, Regis couldn't even sense magic, let alone treat someone who had overexerted themselves using it. That was Hal's territory, not his. So until Ove and the Tyrants finished interrogating the menial, there was nothing Regis could do but wait.

He looked down at Eliah and sighed once more. It was these kinds of situations that made him question whether he was fit to raise the girl or not. 'I bet your real da would know what to do in this situation,' he muttered. He had no doubt that Taiten would have some choice words for him if they were ever to meet. Thankfully, that event would never come to pass.

He started as the sudden rap of a fist on wood echoed from the other side of the wash area's screen.

'Regis?' called Hal's voice. 'Is Eliah there?'

Regis grimaced. He hadn't even heard the menial walk up to the hut. That just went to show how preoccupied he'd been. Stroking the girl's sweating forehead once more, he stood up to let the menial in.

He pushed the fur hangings aside and smiled when he saw Hal waiting patiently outside. 'You're here early. I was under the impression that you'd be tied up for the rest of the night explaining things to Ove and the – ' He paused as he caught sight of Ylva standing in the doorway. ' – Tyrants.'

Suspicion flickered across Regis's face as he glanced back down at Hal.

Hal sighed. 'Don't worry, she just wants to talk. But we'll deal with Eliah's condition first.' Ducking under Regis's frozen arm, he looked back at the Tyrant. 'If I need your help, I'll yell.'

Ylva simply nodded.

'And how, exactly, would she be of help?' asked Regis, brow furrowing as he turned to follow the menial's movements with his head.

But Hal said nothing further. Kneeling down beside Eliah, he raised the index and middle finger of his right hand to eye level, closed his eyes and murmured something unintelligible. Two balls of silver light flickered to life. They spun through the air to form a small circle within a circle, then joined together and blossomed outwards in a series of swirls and letters.

Flattening his palm, Hal lowered the rune circle onto Eliah's chest. It vanished in a flash of bright blue. The girl whimpered in her sleep, the metal in her skin glowing even brighter than before.

Hal stared, dumbfounded. He'd worked with aeonite for decades – it fuelled the spells worked into the Gate, the arena, and the Cages. He'd never seen it act like this.

Raw, unworked aeonite, like the dust that glimmered all across the mountain, absorbed latent energy – aether, from the earth, the air, and from those who happened to exude it in the form of magic. A mage or a menial could hasten the process by consciously transferring their own aether into the crystals. And by working or forging it into metal, the amount of energy the aeonite could absorb and store increased exponentially.

Direct that power with instructions written in runes, and it became a powerful pre-prepared spell that could be used by anyone with the knowledge and power to activate it. Once used, the energy would have to be replenished, either by voluntary transference or through latent absorption.

Yet, the Blessing inscribed on Eliah had swallowed his magic the moment it had touched her – just as it had with the arena's anti-Fal'mor ward. For the briefest of moments, he pondered what would happen if he touched her.

Mind flashing back to the horrifying sensation of his magic bleeding out of him, Hal quickly shuffled a little further back from the girl's unconscious body.

But the thought made him frown: perhaps that was the problem. So long as the magic inside it lay dormant, aeonite held only a faint glow and was as cool to the touch as iron left in the shade. When activated, however, the temperature and brightness of the metal soared in correspondence to the amount of power it had stored.

The rune circles powering the ward drew magic from huge aeonite crystals that ran deep below the arena. Eliah had drained their power, as well as the aether from the menials and every other unidentified magically-blessed Seren that had been in the stands. With meditation as her only magic training, the amount of energy she and the Blessing had stolen was well beyond what her mind and body could sustain.

Hal and his fellow menials had mastered siphoning aether from each other for strength – mostly from him to them. But even if they spread the power Eliah had collected amongst everyone their rank, he doubted they could take enough to give the girl any relief. A person's capacity for aether was limited, and going too far above one's limit resulted in burning from the inside out – much like Eliah appeared to be. If it weren't for the aeonite in the Blessing acting as a capacitor, she likely would have self-combusted already.

Hal suddenly blinked, an idea popping into his head. He looked over at Regis. 'I need Ylva's spear and shield.'

'Are you sure she won't try to stab me if I ask her for them?' replied Regis, his voice dry. A Titan's weapon was their most prized possession. They were proof of their status within the Clan, and – more importantly – relics from Taiten's personal armoury during Godswar. They never left their owners' side, even when they were eating or sleeping. The chances of Ylva, a Tyrant, allowing other people, particularly a menial and a soldier-trainee dropout, to handle her weapons was about as high as someone passing the Rite bare-handed.

Hal simply raised an eyebrow. 'You want me to treat Eliah, don't you?'

That, Regis did. Reluctantly, he relayed the request to the Tyrant. To his surprise, she handed over the relics without question. With a muttered word of thanks as Regis passed them to him, Hal went about with his experiment.

Ylva's weapons had always shone more brightly than any other Titan's, but today they seemed to be glowing even brighter than before. Hal squinted, the silver flecks in his eyes expanding across his pupils as he spread his magic across his sight to investigate the source. The usual ember of golden light – Ylva's light – that inhabited the metal had been amplified into an iridescent flame.

Hal frowned and tilted his head slightly. That was unusual. Ylva kept her weapons on her at all times, so the only magic it should have absorbed was her own. It was possible that it could have absorbed some of Hal's latent aether when he'd lived with her as a boy, but that should have simply turned the flame more silver. The glittering rainbow fire indicated the presence of a great many other people's magic – magic that belonged to people who were certainly not Seren. That phenomenon was supposed to be limited to the aeonite stores in the Cages, Arena and the Gate. Yet, it wasn't, and there was only one possible explanation.

He glanced over at Eliah and winced. Dense, blinding waves of chaotic colour rose from the girl like clouds of smoke from a bonfire. He should have expected that, considering how much power she'd stolen from the ward in the Arena. Ylva had described how her weapon had reacted during the girl's out-of-control magic display at the Arena. It was possible Eliah had unconsciously dispersed some of the excess energy she'd stolen into the Titan's relics to keep herself alive.

Clearly she hadn't redirected enough.

After a moment's consideration, Hal picked up Ylva's spear and carefully touched the end to the rune circle embedded on the back of Eliah's hand.

The weapon hummed as the magic within it was ignited. A flare of blinding blue light illuminated the room. Iridescent aether streamed from the girl to the spear, the aeonite glowing whiter and hotter until it should have burned his hands. Instead, a wave of golden light – Ylva's magic – flooded out from it. It washed over his palms like a cool liquid coating, protecting his hands from the heat.

Hal stared. Fascinating, he thought. Did all Titan weapons have properties like this?

When the spear had reached capacity, Hal pulled it away. The metal cooled instantly, the blinding blue-white light on its surface fading to a prominent, but bearable azure glow. The golden light around his hands trickled back into the aeonite's shimmering blue depths.

He looked back at Eliah. The glow of the Goddess' Blessing was no longer painfully bright. The flush that plagued her skin had diminished. Even her breathing sounded less ragged.

'Figured it out?' asked Regis, watching warily from the doorway.

Hal chuckled. 'Indeed, I have, my friend.' He eyed Regis sidelong, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 'Don't suppose you want to go steal some Titan relics for me?'

Regis grimaced, his eyes flicking over to Ylva. 'Is that really the sort of question you should be asking in front of the Lady Tyrant over there?'

The menial shrugged. He picked up Ylva's shield to begin the second transfer – then paused as a thought occurred to him. Fixing a smile onto his face, Hal turned and held it out to Regis instead. 'Regis,' he said. 'Would you hold this for me?'

Regis's eyes narrowed. He was all too familiar with that overly polite smile. It only ever appeared on Hal's face when he was up to no good. 'Why?' he asked.

The smile grew bigger. 'I'm curious about something.'

'Nothing good ever comes of you being curious about something,' muttered Regis. Nevertheless, he clicked his tongue and followed Hal's instructions.

The menial watched, his eyes bright with magical sight, as Regis touched the shield to the metal in Eliah's skin. Like the spear, the shield let out a hum as it glowed white-hot, and like before, a pool of golden light spilled out of the metal to protect its wielder's hands.

Hal raised an eyebrow. He smiled at first, realising that his suspicions had been correct. But then the corners of his lips curled into a frown.

He'd lived amongst the menials long enough to know that all those who possessed magic had better affinities for certain types of spells than others. As far as Hal knew, his mother was only capable of performing the simplest of healing tasks. That her relics now possessed properties reflective of that was only logical. But Ylva was far from the only magic-wielding heretic to have made it into the ranks of the Titans, and not all of them would be hiding magicks so benign.

Then there was the fact that the relic had activated for Regis – pure golden-blooded, magicless Regis. Such a thing should not have been possible, unless...

He pondered the idea in silence as the glittering stream of energy flowing from Eliah to the shield began to taper off. When the relic was full to the brim, he gestured for Regis to hand it over to him.

'Now touch her forehead,' said Hal.

'Why—'

'If I do it, she'll leech my magic, and then I suspect we'll both be incapacitated.'

Brow furrowed, Regis did as he was told.

'Still feverish?' asked Hal.

'Slightly.'

The menial shrugged. 'It'll have to do. If we get our hands on more aeonite, I can do another transference, but until then we'll have to let the excess aether bleed out naturally.'

The blank look on Regis's face said very clearly that he understood none of what Hal had just said, but he responded as if he had. 'How long will that take?' he asked.

Hal snorted in reply. 'You think I know? Perhaps after a few sunrises. Perhaps after a few moons. Absorbing the Arena ward isn't something most menials do, Regis.'

Shaking his head, Hal pushed aside the fur hanging in the doorway and returned to the main room with Regis close behind.

─ ☼ ─

Ylva was waiting for them, her expression unreadable. A slight crease marked her brow as Hal handed back her weapons, but it quickly disappeared. She had plenty of time to ask Hal what he'd done with her relics later. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Her eyes met with Regis's. His gaze was stony. His jaw was tense. She didn't blame him. The only time the two of them spoke was when he was summoned to the Chamber of Counsel, and the topics of those conversations were not very amicable towards him. For her to suddenly turn up at his home, uninvited, after the disaster his daughter had caused at the Arena... She had no doubt that he thought the worst of her intentions.

Ylva sighed. He was going to hate her proposal.

Regis eyed her, suspicious, as the silence stretched on. 'I thought you wanted to talk, Lady Tyrant.'

'I do. I'm just giving you time to prepare yourself for what I'm about to suggest.'

'It would help if I knew what I needed to prepare for.'

'True.' Ylva paused and looked down at her weapons, seemingly admiring their new glow. 'When Aramir told you that he was undertaking the Rite, I imagine you weren't very happy. After all, you are aware of what being a Titan entails.'

Regis kept silent.

'Yet,' continued Ylva, 'you kept your mouth shut, and allowed the boy to participate. You and I both know that young, pure-blooded and foolhardy as he is, Aramir should have died in that ring. But thanks to a certain...' Her eyes darted over to the washroom where Eliah lay. '... miracle, your son has made rank. You understand what this means, don't you, Regis? They are going to covet him as much as they did your father – even more so if they find out that he "awakened" the Goddess's Blessing. And the Clan? They'll believe in the Teachings more strongly than ever.'

'And what does that matter to you, Tyrant?'

Ylva smiled, although her eyes did not. 'I've lived long enough to know that things on this mountain have and are in need of change. The Clan that originally interpreted the Teachings is not the same as the Clan that exists now. They're the same people as Thearris and Einar: people who would never believe that the scrawny, little girl lying unconscious in that room bears the same symbols as the warrior who led them to victory in the Godswar.' She met his gaze and held it. 'People who are going to wrongfully believe that Aramir Regischild, one of the last truly golden Seren on this mountain, is Taitenschild.'

'Funny,' said Regis. 'I would have thought that you'd prefer that. Last I recall, you were the first amongst the council of three to state that we should never reveal that Eliah has Taiten's marks.'

'That was for her own protection. The girl was born with magic. If the Clan knew, they would have burned down your hut and murdered the child for besmirching the name of Taiten.'

The implication of that admission was not lost on Regis. The only way Ylva could have known that was if she had magic herself. Expression impassive, he shook his head. 'And what's to stop them from doing so in the future?'

Ylva continued, choosing her words carefully. 'After what Eliah did today, I find it difficult to believe that Taiten slayed the Fal'mor without the use of magic. Surely you're not going to tell me that you don't believe the same.'

'To say so would be treason.'

'And what if those words of treason are the truth?'

'Even if the Teachings are a load of bollocks, magic is restricted on this mountain for a reason. You, as Tyrant, know that better than anyone.'

That, Ylva did. Regis, on the other hand, was not supposed to be privy to that kind of information. She frowned, but chose not to question it.

'Regis, you may have lived only a third of my lifespan, but surely you have noticed that the deep amber gold hue you, your father and your son possess has faded from the hair and eyes of the majority of the Clan. The number of children being born to the Clan has diminished, and amongst those that are, there has been an increasing number of menials being removed from each sun rank. This is not a coincidence. Einar will never admit it, but his grandfather introduced magic to our bloodline and we must learn to live with it, otherwise we will destroy ourselves.'

'So what are you suggesting? An uprising? Rewriting of the Teachings? Thearris would sooner throw me off the mountain than listen to a word of this. He'd probably throw you off too, Tyrant or no.'

'I have known your father for a long time, and he is not as rigid and unreasonable as you think. Even he will have to question the state of things when he sees it with his own eyes.'

The suspicion returned. 'Sees what with his own eyes?' asked Regis.

Ylva adjusted the grip on her brightly glowing spear and raised her chin. 'How the real Taitenschild brings down a Fal'mor in the Rite.'

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All content and illustrations ©Jax L. P. (@JaxCreation) on 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅. All rights reserved. Please contact the author if you are reading this on another site or under a different account name.