All these thoughts passed through my mind in a flash. This expedition had assigned Scholar Orath as its head by the orders of the Council.

The Council was the governing board of the Academy, comprising both the nobles of Aelmar and the Senior Mages, and they placed the interest of the continent first. If the Conclave of Ysmar reached this deep into the Council, then this was much deeper than I thought.

The feeling of being overwhelmed swept through me again. How had I found myself in a matter that was many times above my level?

Still, this would have messed up with Elric eleven deaths ago, but one thing dying so much had taught me was to deal with what was in front of me and handle what I could and forget the rest.

If I could solve a problem, I would; if I could not, then I would leave it for others or come back to it when I was strong enough. Nothing humbles you more than death.

I gave myself a mental slap, ’Focus on what you can understand, Elric.’

I looked at the dead eyes of Rex, and I sighed, not knowing why I felt he was pitiful, and I asked Scholar Orath,

"How long have you been wearing him?"

"Wearing?" A flicker of surprise passed his eyes; he had not been expecting this question. "An interesting choice of words, Voss. I am not wearing Rex Aldran. I am riding him. The distinction is one I would explain at length if I had the leisure of the next eleven months. As I do not, the explanation will have to wait."

I frowned, fixating on this question like a dog gnawing on a hard bone, "How long have you been riding him?"

Scholar Orath paused as if he was deciding whether to give me the information, then he answered me,

"Long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

He glanced briefly behind me, and I was scared to even find out what was now happening behind me: "Long enough for the present arrangement to mature."

My mind whirled around. Was he speaking about the Ascension Ritual? My heart was beginning to beat faster, I licked my lips, and asked while Scholar Orath seemed in the mood to answer my questions,

"And if the arrangement matures, what does the harvest look like, Scholar Orath?"

"Harvest?" he smiled, "I like that word, but you will not see it, Voss."

"That is not what I asked."

"It is, however, the only answer the situation permits. You have a surprising amount of clearheadedness; your talent was wasted in Aldenmere. However, you will not be alive in an hour. I am sorry to be blunt; it is intended as a courtesy."

The cold spot on my chest sharpened by a fraction, and I understood that the conversation was ending. Scholar Orath had just satisfied his curiosity, and now he was about to kill me.

I had what I was going to get, and I was not going to get more. I was going to die in the next minute, and Death-Touched was confirming the assessment, and the rage that had been carrying me since the camp had first fallen in front of me was now the only resource I had not yet spent... I was going to spend it.

"One more question, Scholar Orath."

He seemed amused, but he nodded, "Ask."

"Did Rex agree to be ridden?"

Scholar Orath paused long enough that I thought he was not going to answer the question, but he did.

"He did not need to."

My frown deepened, "That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer the situation permits."

The phrasing was the same phrasing he had used about the harvest. Orath was repeating himself when the questions cut close to the parts of his work he could not safely discuss.

I don’t know why I should care if Rex had given his body willingly or not, but it felt important to me, and I did not know why.

Still, the answers he gave me were all the information I needed. Rex did not need to have a choice in this matter. If he were a young member of the Conclave, this seemed to be the only criterion needed for Scholar Orath to be able to use his body.

My memories returned to the last loop, where Scholar Orath in the body of Rex had ordered our execution as if he was dismissing flies, and I let the rage inside me have the next motion.

"Scholar Orath."

He frowned, detecting something in my voice, "Yes?"

"I am going to take something with me."

I had returned my left hand to my staff, and now I allowed it to fall, as if holding the staff for long had weakened my left hand.

The cold spot spiked, as Orath’s face — Rex’s face — registered the motion in the kind of millisecond that an Adept-tier consciousness operating across thousands of miles of distance uses to compose a cast, and an obliterating discharge was already forming in the space between Rex’s right hand and my chest.

Lightning Resonance answered before I had given it the conscious command.

The hum in my palm flared. The discipline that had bonded to me leaped to the surface of my skin. I did not aim for the chest or the head because I knew that an Adept would surely defend their vulnerable points, so I aimed for the right arm.

The arm was the lever that was going to deliver the obliterating cast. Without the arm, the cast would not arrive. Orath could rearrange Rex’s body, could draw a new cast through the left hand or through the chest or through the staff, but he would need a moment to do it, and a moment was longer than the moment I had.

I could not combine Surge and Lightning Arc through my arm, but what I could do was push all of my Anima into it, not caring if my channels were shredded along the way.

My entire left arm lit up with a fierce blue light, which showed all the lines of the muscles, bones, and veins underneath, and I saw Rex’s dead eye begin to slowly shift towards the light, but the cast had already left my palm.