Delve-Chapter 193: Cult

There was a creak of over-stressed wood as Halgrave shifted, leaning back and letting the tiny silver fork he’d been holding clatter to the now-empty plate on his desk. It was before dawn, but in Xiugaaraa, that hardly mattered. The office he’d rented in the Guild was lit by gaudy fire, always, presently reflecting crimson off his blue-and-gold-enameled armor. Even with access to the system, the constant light made it very easy to lose track of time.

With a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his close-cropped hair and glanced at the intelligence brief on his desk.

Ellis razed in the battle between Citizens Ellis, Rumdell, Bluecrest, Berryfed, Jarro, and the imperial army under Dominus Alarus.

Fel Sadanis, Southguard, Warmak, Rumdell, and Shinevale remain under imperial control.

The assault to retake Shinevale by Citizens Shinevale, Bluecrest, Kepar, and Davlake was repulsed.

Multiple reports indicate that imperial supply lines are being harassed by a gold-level Force Mage near Southguard.

Guild branches in Falking, Lenleah, Halfstone, and Downharrow remain open.

What is she doing, harassing supply lines? Why? What could she possibly have to gain?

“Ten thousand pardons, Golden One.”

Halgrave looked up to see an aide standing in the doorway to his office, the blue-coated man’s eyes firmly fixed on his own feet. He sighed, then beckoned the man forward, wishing the office wasn’t so stuffy with the door closed. “Come.”

The aide swiftly entered, stopping at a respectful distance before clasping his hands behind his back and making a formal bow. When he rose—still looking at his feet, of course—he spoke without further prompting in a heavy Zeeladan accent. “This one has news. This one is pleased to be able to inform the honored Golden One that one of the provided names has appeared in the Guild ledgers.”

A thrill of excitement ran through Halgrave, banishing the sluggishness from his thoughts. “Which?”

“Rain, plate number 14529. This one offers a further ten thousand apologies for the late notification. The name did not appear in the weekly quest records, but in the list of pending tier adjustments. It is with shame that this one did not think to check them until after—”

“Never mind the groveling,” Halgrave said, rising to his feet and reaching for his gauntlets. ‘Rain’ wasn’t an easy name to forget. They had history, and more than one might expect given that the bizarre man was a lowly bronzeplate—or rather it seemed, had been. Having donned his gauntlets, Halgrave stood and reached next for his helmet. “Where did the name appear? In what city?”

“In Three Cliffs, Golden One, a small smuggler’s port on the eastern coast of—”

“I deeping know where Three Cliffs is,” Halgrave interrupted, the gears in his mind turning. Fel Sadanis had been closed to him by the Watch, preventing him from collecting his daughter. He’d sent her a message, which she’d either never gotten or ignored, which would have been just like her. He’d only learned she’d left the city when a useless aide much like this one had come to tell him how it had fallen. At that point, it had been too late. Glavin had outright refused to help him search the area surrounding Vestvall, no matter how he’d threatened. Three Cliffs, though, was sufficiently removed from the conflict and the rank shift that the Translocationist would have no basis to refuse.

Halgrave slipped on his helmet. “Get me Glavin. Have him meet me at the platform.”

“Apologies, Golden One, but—”

“Is he not in the city?”

“He is, Golden One, but with the hour, this one is not sure—”

Again, Halgrave cut him off. The servants in this city were insufferably long-winded. He didn’t know how Burrik tolerated it. “Tell him that I will make it worth his while. Also tell him that if he doesn’t show up within fifteen minutes to at least talk it over, he’ll wish it was my ex looking for him, not me.”

“Yes, Golden One,” the aide said, wasting yet more time on one last bow, then rushing from the room.

Halgrave rolled his eyes, lifting his hammer from its weight-distributing plinth. His steps thundered against the solid stone floor as he strode after the aide. He found that he didn’t care to soften them. The Guild was built to withstand far worse.

It was time to collect his daughter.

Aura Metamagic

Tier 0

Extend Aura (15/15)

Extend aura range by 15 meters

Multiply aura mana cost by 400%

Amplify Aura (15/15)

Multiply aura intensity by 250%

Multiply aura mana cost by 400%

Tier 1

Aura Focus (15/15)

Focus on an aura to boost its output

Multiply aura intensity by 400%

Multiply aura range by 400%

Multiply aura mana cost by 400%

User loses all external senses while focusing

Aura Synergy (20/15)

Increase all aura output by 2.0% for each rank in any aura

Effective boost: 446.0%

Tier 2

Prismatic Intent (1/15) Exp: 8/400

User may maintain 2 auras simultaneously

Aura IFF (15/15)

User may exempt entities from direct aura effects at will

Selected entities receive -50.0% aura output

Tier 3

Ethereal Aura (0/15) (+)

User may exempt the aura from environmental effects at will

Aura gains 5% resistance to environmental occlusion and absorption

Environment receives 90% aura output

Hidden skill, revealed by meeting requirements

Requires 10 ranks in Mana Manipulation

Requires 10 ranks in Aura IFF

Aura Compression (15/15)

Compress aura output, reducing range to boost intensity

Increase intensity by 3% per meter of compression

Tier 4

Anchor Aura (0/15)

Allows for the creation, binding, and use of aura anchors

Aura anchors are attuned to a single aura at the time of creation

Aura anchors act as additional emission points, irrespective of distance

User may project any aura through 0-1 anchors simultaneously

Aura range is distributed across the user and any selected anchors

Anchor Creation Cost: 100 + 100^x

Anchor Creation Time: 1 hour

Anchor Durability: 100 + 100^x

Anchor Hardness: 15 (fcs)

x must be a whole number greater than or equal to the tier of the attuned aura

Aura use through an anchor damages the anchor

Anchor damage is proportional to mana flux, mitigated by Hardness

Requires 1 rank in Prismatic Intent

Requires 5 ranks in Ethereal Aura

Requires 10 ranks in Aura Compression

I need it.

Rain’s eyes lingered on the pesky unlock requirements before they flicked back to the top of the skill listing.

This would change so many things! So! Many! Things! I could, like, hand them out to people! The full power of a silverplate in your pocket! Well, a gimpy utility silverplate, and they’d need to tell me when to use the aura somehow, and with what settings, but whatever. The possibilities are endless!

...Buuuuut....

I have questions.

Rain fiddled with his rings, watching for changes.

Anchor Hardness is Focus divided by ten, round down. Got it. Good to know. What else? Hmm. Does the number of active anchors I can use increase with skill rank? Does the cost go down? Up? What about range? Does ‘irrespective of distance’ really mean ‘irrespective of distance,’ or is it subject to the one-league hard cap for non-divination spells? If not, and I somehow got an anchor all the way to, say, the surface of the moon, would it still work? Would the activation break lightspeed? On a more practical note, would it work through a lair boundary? What about line of sight? Line of effect? Is that required? The fact that it requires Ethereal Aura says no. Oh, hey! If I make an aura anchor, can someone ELSE cast an aura through it? It says ‘creation, binding, and use’, so...maybe? Provided that the other aura user also has both Anchor Aura and the actual aura in question. Hmm. And the aura range, does it distribute evenly, or can I change that with Aura Compression? What would happen if I reduced the range to zero? Would that mean I could directly target everyone who’s carrying an anchor, leaving the environment untouched? Heck, I could probably still do that with a one-meter range, just with a bit of mageburn. And this bit: ‘User may cast any aura through 0-1 anchors.’ Does that mean, like, PER AURA, or does it mean in total? I don’t see any mention on a limit of how many can be bound. Ugh. So unclear!

...

Well, I guess since Prismatic Intent is required for the unlock, the use limit being per aura is probably a safe assumption…

…

No! Bad Rain! No assumptions! Must test!

…

Damn!

Progress Report

marker_1: swim_day [3061 Seedlings 21 09:15]

marker_2: t4_amm [3061 Seedlings 25 12:10]

Span: 4.1 days

Skills

Fulmination: +135,775 exp, 10 -> 15 (+5)

Chemical Ward: +67,961 exp, 10 -> 15 (+5)

Mana Manipulation: +44,280 exp, 10 -> 13 (+3)

Winter: +13,622 exp, 11 -> 13 (+2)

Prismatic Intent: +3 exp

Tolerance

Strength: 500 -> 524 (+24)

Endurance: 310 -> 472 (+162)

Speed: 10 -> 11 (+1)

Synchronization

Recovery: 5.6 -> 6.1 (+0.5)

Vigor: 9.2 -> 9.3 (+0.1)

Nothing terrible has happened with all the mana I’ve been venting to train Mana Manipulation, so I’ll finish that first. Then I can go back to training Prismatic Intent with the Perception accolades to see how much the skill ranks help. Hmm, I need to—

An antlered head pushed through Rain’s interface with no warning. The blue panels fuzzed with static, and he found himself suddenly subjected to extremely close-range scrutiny by a pair of slate-gray eyes.

“I have determined that he is not frozen,” Tallheart rumbled as Rain recoiled in shock. He’d have tumbled completely off his bench if not for Ameliah’s arm, snug around his waist. Everyone seated at the picnic table swayed with the chunk of ice it was perched upon as it rocked with Rain’s motion. They were having lunch at the end of the newest dock, this one made of chopped-up icebergs rather than chopped-up trees.

Carten barked out a laugh. “Haha, got ‘im!” He then took a big bite out of a Guild ration, making a loud crunch.

“Mmm,” Tallheart rumbled in amusement, settling back into his seat. The chunk of ice shifted again, jerking as it yanked against the flaxen ropes holding it in place next to its neighbor. The table and benches didn’t slide, their legs sunken through the icy surface and frozen in place.

“I was reading what it said, thank you,” Rain said, sliding his dialogs aside so he could glare at Carten. “I told you the unlock went fine, and I gave you the finger to wait.” To demonstrate, he raised his index finger in the unmistakable signal for ‘hang on a second.’

“I thought the finger was this,” Carten replied, flipping Rain off.

“That means something else,” Jamus said knowingly, seated on the other side of Carten from Tallheart. He dunked his own Guild ration in the dregs of his soup, scraping it around the bowl. “As I understand it, that particular gesture is quite rude.” Another wave struck the chunk of ice, and Jamus hurriedly snatched up his bowl before any of the remaining liquid could spill. Creamy green splatterings of soup across the tabletop told of his mixed success thus far.

“Rude?” Carten said, furrowing his brows in mock confusion as he squinted at his extended digit. He then grinned and hoisted the middle finger of his other hand, now flipping Rain the bird in stereo. “How ‘bout this then? Tell us what it says, ye tit!”

“Be patient,” Ameliah said, her voice filled with laughter. “Once he starts talking numbers, he’s not going to stop.”

“Hey!” Rain protested, smiling at her, not really mad. She was right, after all.

There was a crunch, far too quiet to have come from a Guild ration or the grinding of the frozen dock. Rain turned to see Tallheart holding an enormous purple radish, staring at him intently as he chewed. The ships that Ameliah had sighted had arrived yesterday and the day before, bringing fresh produce with them. Rain could see them in the background even now, bobbing amidst the icebergs that lingered from the raising of the Fist of Progress.

“Well?” Tallheart asked, taking another bite.

Rain’s stomach rumbled. He glanced down at his own plate, which at this point contained only battered crumbs leftover from his fried fish. He peeked beneath the table. Besides the heavy radio receiver he’d stashed there, presently emitting a soft hiss of static, the crate in which they’d brought their lunch now held only empty containers and a single, lonely Guild ration. While rations were tastier than other forms of brickwork, Rain wasn’t sure how well Healing Word worked on teeth. The choice was taken from him in short order, as, true to form, Carten snatched the ration the moment he saw Rain considering it.

Rain sighed softly. He wasn’t about to fight Tallheart over his radish or ask Jamus if he could lick his bowl, so that was that.

I’ll grab something later. Damn. I ate a whole fried fish, and I’m still not full.

He clicked his tongue, looking back at his interface.

I need to double down on my Endurance training. Good thing I can push my tolerance harder after my class-up.

“What’s it do already!?” Carten demanded irately before chomping down on his prize, spraying crumbs everywhere. He pointed the remaining half of the ration at Rain, speaking with his mouth full. “If ye go back ta’ starin’ off inta’ space, I’m throwin’ ye in the wet!”

Rain chuckled, releasing a quick blast of Purify to deal with the crumbs and the soup-spattered table. It did nothing for Carten’s manners. As the light faded, he cleared his throat, then began to read aloud, managing to make it all the way through the skill card without any further interruptions. The moment he finished, though, Carten and Jamus immediately started peppering him with questions and bickering with both him and each other. Ameliah joined in as well, reining things in somewhat thanks to her experience and insight. Tallheart simply let the others talk, chewing in contemplative silence and watching the back-and-forth. Before the discussion could reach any conclusions, however, they were interrupted by a long, shrill chirp.

“What was tha’?” Carten asked, destabilizing the chunk of ice as he contorted himself to peer under the table.

“Shhh!” Rain hissed. “It’s the radio.”

Just after he said this, a quick sequence of five chirps identified the sender as Tarny, who was operating the transmitter atop the cliff, one of three. After a brief pause, the message itself began, tapped out hesitantly in the sequence of dots and dashes that they’d mapped to the common alphabet.

“What are these noises?” Tallheart said, joining Carten in peering under the table. “Did you not say the device would send speech?”

“Rain and Staavo are still working on that part,” Jamus said when Rain didn’t reply, too busy listening to the message. Jamus shrugged, adjusting his hat. “Trouble with the microphone or something. Something to do with signals and noises. This is a code that—”

“Shh!” Rain hissed again, continuing to decode the message as it came through, one letter at a time.

...L...G...R...A...V...E...

Halgrave? What? What’s Halgrave got to do with anything?

...I...S...

Halgrave is—

“Oi, what’s it sayin’?” Carten asked loudly, poking Rain in the shoulder, the cross-chattering having continued while he tried to tune it out.

“Shut up!” Rain snapped, his eyes beginning to widen as the last of the message came through. Tarny began spelling out the word ‘STOP,’ but there was no need to wait for him to finish.

Rain stood abruptly, making the chunk of ice rock and sway. Jamus had to windmill his arms to avoid tumbling into the ocean, but Rain barely noticed, looking up at the cliff. “Halgrave is here.”

Halgrave took a deep breath of the clean salt air, ignoring the crowd behind him and looking out at the harbor from the edge of the cliff. He hadn’t been here for dozens of years, not since he’d been silver, but he distinctly recalled the stench. The lack of such was a welcome change, suggesting that the city had started taking an interest in proper governance. Thinking about it, it then crossed his mind that the so-called Night Cleaner’s Purify spell could also have been responsible. That he had the power to clean an entire city, however, didn’t seem reasonable, even at low silver. If Rain was responsible, it was probably because he’d been enslaved by the Sea Kings and set to scrubbing the streets from dawn till dusk.

I’ll look into it, but ultimately, he chose his class, so he must live with the consequences.

The cleanliness was just a curiosity at the end of the day. The obvious recent damage the city had sustained was more concerning, but that, too, wasn’t his issue to deal with. There hadn’t been any war reports concerning Three Cliffs. It was a minor city, far away from anything important other than the badlands, themselves only of interest to bronzes, weak silvers, and one particular gold who’d been looking for a quiet retirement. The damage had more likely come from the pirates squabbling for meaningless dominance.

The silver Goldship in the harbor, though; that was interesting. It looked to be barely floating, held together by a craggy iceberg lodged near its middle. More ice surrounded it. Not icebergs, but spheres, chained to the ship and floating around it like fishing buoys.

Bizarre. And why is the Goldship not gold?

He frowned, shifting his hammer, resting heavily against his shoulder.

Perhaps it is not a Bank vessel at all. I’ve no doubt they’ve been funding the pirates in secret, but openly showing themselves here would be too brazen, even for them. Hmm. Perhaps one of the pirates is trying to copy their design? Now that would be the very definition of bold.

A groan from his feet made Halgrave look down from the horizon, and his frown deepened. “Get up,” he commanded. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Not so loud,” Glavin said, the Translocationist rubbing at his temples and wearing an expression like someone had been hammering a spike into his skull, or like he’d been drinking Dragon brandy from Ter’Karmark. Realistically, there wasn’t much of a difference.

Halgrave shook his head at the errant thought, looking back out at the ship. “Pathetic. It only took three hops to get here from Barstone. Are you silver or not?”

“You didn’t tell me your hammer weighed as much as the Ter,” the Translocationist whined.

Halgrave harrumphed, though he supposed the man had a point. He was using Airwalk at the moment after all, lest the weight of his weapon drive his feet into the stone and cleave off a chunk of the cliff-face. It was a shame that the activation cost of adjustable weight-altering enchantments made them ludicrously impractical.

Glavin groaned. “I don’t know who is worse, you or your wife. Do you know what she made me do?”

“She’s not my wife, and I don’t care,” Halgrave said, watching a pair of figures rise from the harbor and begin streaking toward them.

Hmm. I don’t remember hearing that any of the Sea Kings could fly.

“Why can’t people understand that what I do isn’t easy?” Glavin said, continuing his pained mewling. “’Take me to the Guildhall in Three Cliffs,’ you said. Like I could hit a target that small from leagues away and not risk putting us in a wall or under the floor. You people have no appreciation for how—”

“Quiet,” Halgrave commanded, turning as the pair of figures touched down on the stone behind him. Both wore white cloaks over their armor, like those worn by the crowd that had been hovering nearby since he and Glavin had materialized. Inspecting the pair more closely, Halgrave found that he recognized the make of the armor, making the tall one Rain in all likelihood. The shorter one carried a bow, and no identity came to mind. From the landing, they’d been the one using Airwalk, and with some proficiency, too. A rare thing. It was a tricky skill.

“Halgrave,” the bow-wielder greeted him in a voice that tickled at his memory. Her helmet vanished moments later, revealing a familiar face.

“Ameliah?” he said in surprised recognition.

Where did she get that armor? She must have had it for some time to have unlocked Heavy Armor Inventory. Such a frivolous skill. And a bow? I know she is an evolved Jack, but this is beyond ridiculous.

His eyes shifted to Rain, then narrowed.

That is not the same armor as before. Similar, but not the same. They have a crafter.

“Halgrave,” Rain said, raising his visor.

Halgrave took further pause as Rain lowered his arm. The face within the helmet wasn’t the pudgy, boyish one he remembered, nor was the expression that of an overexcited child out to see the world. Instead, the now-bearded man was watching him with the cautious wariness of a veteran adventurer.

Hmm. Perhaps he is silver after all. Must be a story there.

Deciding that he didn’t care enough to ask, Halgrave greeted him with a grunt. “Rain.” He took a breath, then nodded respectfully. “Before anything else, thank you for freeing my daughter from that infuriating bubble. I am told it was your doing.”

Rain glanced at Glavin as the man struggled to his feet but quickly returned his gaze to Halgrave. “You’re welcome.” There was an awkward silence. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How did you get here?”

“Translocationist,” Halgrave said, gesturing at his companion impatiently. Rain’s eyes flashed with interest, but Halgrave cleared his throat, impatient to get on with things. “Is Mahria here?”

“Yeah, she’s around,” Rain said, his expression becoming serious again. “Did you come to find her?”

“No,” Halgrave replied. “I decided to take a vacation to a disreputable pirate bay by coincidence.”

“Right, silly me,” Rain said, the sudden sheepishness of his tone now more in line with the man Halgrave remembered. “Well, I don’t know where she is right now, but I can find—”

“Dad.”

Halgrave looked up, seeing Mahria approaching them with another woman walking beside her who seemed vaguely familiar. Rain and Ameliah had turned at Mahria’s voice, then politely stepped out of the way, allowing Halgrave to get a good look at his daughter. Mahria wore the blue robe her mother had commissioned for her along with a white cloak, but the staff he’d given her for her last birthday had been replaced with one that looked to be made entirely of metal. Halgrave felt a slight pang of betrayal at that, but it was of minor importance. Like as not, she’d broken the one he’d given her with her sloppy magic. She seemed to be in good health, which was the important thing. Her normally-well-kept hair was in a dirty brown tangle at the moment, and her face was smudged, but that didn’t bother him. She was an adventurer. Adventurers shouldn’t be afraid of a bit of dirt.

“Daughter,” he said by way of greeting, sparing a glance for the other woman. She also carried a staff, he noted, and that was enough to turn his tickle of recognition into certainty. The noble Arena girl.Something Draves.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Mahria said. “Don’t tell me; is Mom here too? Or is she still on the run?”

“What do you think?” Halgrave said with a sigh. “You know what she did, yes?”

“I talked to her about it,” Mahria said.

“You did?” Halgrave raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t known they’d spoken since the incident.

Mahria nodded. “I can’t say I blame her for what she did to Westbridge, but she shouldn’t have gone through his city to get to him. I couldn’t understand her reasoning. She sounded insane. Talking about...the greater good and stuff.”

Halgrave shook his head. “I did not come here to talk about your mother’s insanity. I came here to talk about yours. Why did you not evacuate Fel Sadanis through the teleporter?”

“Because of this,” Mahria said, tugging her white cloak closer around her shoulder. “I joined Ascension.”

“I heard,” Halgrave said, looking again at the similarly-cloaked line of watchers. “What is it, anyway? Some kind of cult?”

“It’s not a cult,” no less than three people responded in unison, including his daughter.

“Sounds like a cult to me,” Glavin muttered in the following silence.

“Mmm,” Halgrave agreed. He shifted his hammer, extending his free hand to her. “Come. We are leaving.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Halgrave raised an eyebrow.

“You heard,” Mahria said. “I’m not leaving.” She slipped her hand into that of the Draves woman. “I feel like I’m finally doing something with my life, and besides, I have friends here.”

Halgrave narrowed his eyes, not missing the satisfied grin on Rain’s face at Mahria’s declaration. He ignored the ridiculous man, focused on his daughter. “A friend, is it? Fine. You can bring your friend with you. Like I care.”

“I care,” Glavin interjected. “One extra person is bad enough. Two is too many. Besides that, I’m going to need a few days to recover before—”

“Shut up,” Halgrave and Mahria said together.

Halgrave smiled at that, but didn’t retract his hand. “Come now, daughter. I am happy you wish to be independent, but a pirate hive on the edge of a war zone is not the place you will earn your class.”

“I have a class,” Mahria said.

Halgrave’s smile froze, and he replied sharply, “Girl, did you ruin yourself?” He glanced at Rain and the other white-cloaked watchers, then retracted his hand before it could become a fist. “An uncommon class won’t—”

Mahria abruptly whirled her staff and jabbed the tip at him. The others reacted in surprise that turned to alarm as Mahria began speaking firmly. “Chanting is still dumb, blah blah blah, Freeze Blood!”

Halgrave didn’t react as the others had. He simply let the magic strike him. There was no visible effect from the infamous spell, nor should there have been if it was the real thing. There had been a sizable hit to his armor’s saturation, though, and he’d felt a bit of a chill despite his resistance. That spoke volumes.

Cold Mage it is. No other class can wield that spell.

“Damn it,” Mahria muttered, lowering her staff. “Not even a shiver?”

“Hmph,” Halgrave said dismissively, hiding his smile as he turned away. “Not bad, daughter, but not nearly good enough. Try in another twenty years.” He walked toward the cliff, then right off it to hover in free space before glancing over his shoulder. “Come. Let’s at least discuss this over a drink.” He disengaged Airwalk, speaking swiftly as he fell. “Meet you at the Guild.”

Rain exhaled in relief as Halgrave plummeted out of view, taking his goldplate pressure with him. The man’s soul felt odd. Powerful, obviously, but also...muted. Or maybe armored.

Rain shook his head, setting aside that line of speculation for later.

Man, Gus is going to shit a cinderblock when Halgrave walks in through the door. Should I ask Ameliah to warn him?

Putting a pin in that thought too, Rain turned to confront Mahria. Even if the target was effectively immune to damage, you didn’t just sneak-attack someone with deadly magic. Especially not an ally. Especially not your father. To Rain’s consternation, however, he found that Mahria was already gone, stalking toward the lift and tugging a bemused Lyn after her.

“Hey...”

Ameliah laughed at Rain’s expression. “Let her go.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need to talk to Vanna and Samson.”

Rain sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Yeah.” He turned to look at the gray-haired Translocationist, noting that the man was rubbing his temples again. His silver-level soul was significantly more difficult to sense than Halgrave’s, but only slightly more so than Ameliah’s. As for how it felt, it just felt...tired. Rain forced a friendly smile onto his face. “Are you okay?”

“The entire family is sun-mad,” the Translocationist said with a groan, smoothing his green silken robe. “Gods, I need a mana potion.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Rain said, offering the man his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rain. Can I use a spell on you?”

“Glavin,” the translocationist said, accepting Rain’s hand and shaking it with a surprisingly limp grip. “What spell? Infuse?”

“Essence Well, but same idea. Transfers mana.”

Glavin shrugged. “I have no objection, but I couldn’t possibly ask you to fill my entire pool.” He released Rain’s hand, then gestured to the silver plate dangling from his neck. “It is deep, as such things go.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Rain said, smirking as he activated his magic. Blue rings appeared around Glavin, rising gently. “So, you’re a Translocationist, huh?”

Glavin looked up from his inspection of the rings. “I am...” He trailed off, his expression becoming guarded. “Why?”

Rain’s smile widened. “Have you ever considered joining a cult?”

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