Salome was burning.
That was the sensation. They had stepped through the portal, escaping the Archmage by a fractional second and suddenly, thrown into a whirlpool of cosmos – whipped about by chaos and matter. And then she had felt herself burning, the mana that sustained her as her, disintegrating into nothingness.
Heard Sera cry out in panic.
And then everything was black and she was small and barely there. Faintly holding on. Her core of starstuff – fragile and withering fast.
It was by luck and only luck that she had survived. The last remaining fragment of her mana, falling like a snowflake, onto a bed of mountainous flowers. Flowers that had mana themselves.
Inconceivable luck.
Fated favor.
She laid in those flowers, absorbing the mana greedily like a parched desert. Her form was gone, but her presence was there. Now, intertwined – integrated – with a field of winter lilies. No sight, no sound, but she had been a weapon, she had never needed either.
But it was a strange thing being a bed of flowers. She liked the way the wind waved through her petals and leaves, it reminded her of the way her blade cut through air. And she felt good about the insects that would pass by her roots, little citizens on the land that was her.
And she missed, terribly, deeply, with great, aching magnitude, the presence of Sera. The one who had made her her. Who had given her life over time, sentience collected through the steady pouring of magic, memory, and effort. When she had awoken, finally, and Sera had looked at her with an awe-like smile, Salome knew her name instinctually.
She had recalled how Sera had parted the Iyrdic sea with her body – blade coming down in a deafening, thunderous arc. Swung down in one fell swoop to lay waste to some cosmic invaders of Ratiora. Had felt what it was like to be connected so deeply to the one who wielded her. And thus called out and named herself Salome of the Sea. Because Sera was like the sea – turbulent, powerful, and raging. And she was of Sera.
And here she was, a bed of flowers, sleeping and waiting. Waiting and sleeping. There was no rush, she had noticed it in the early morning. A familiar heartbeat making its approach, carefully, slowly up the mountain.
Salome would keep her promise.
✦ ♡ ✦
"Salome," Kael said. "Of the Sea." He let out a short laugh. "You not only named it, you gave it a title?"
Sera looked at him with a deadpan expression and sighed.
"I didn't name her," she said.
Kael furrowed his brow.
"She told me," Sera said. "That was her name. And title. She chose it."
Kael was quiet for a moment.
"What," he said.
"How does that even make sense?" Hibiscus asked.
"It's possible," Darien responded, ladling the stew into bowls. He handed one to Mira and then one to Hibiscus. "The Triad's weapons. Didn't Commander Swift's weapon rename herself when it actualized?"
"It did," Ophelia confirmed, receiving two bowls from Darien and passing it to Yoru and Sera. "Commander Swift's rifle used to be called Rallet. When it actualized it requested to be called Yorien." She passed another bowl to Sera. "Commander Cunning's too, I think." Darien handed two more bowls to Ophelia and Kael and then ladled one for himself.
"Commander Thern and Commander Herion's weapons haven't actualized though," Mira said, between spoonfuls of stew. "Even for me, as an armament priestess, the threshold for awakening is vague and unclear. Only two of my needles have their chosen names."
Kael processed this, chewing his stew thoughtfully.
Hibiscus looked at Sera. Set down her spoon.
"So how could you do it?" she asked.
Sera looked at her.
Quirked a smile. Said nothing.
Kael stared at her for a moment.
"She's lying," he said, to the group. "She's pulling our leg." He let out a laugh. "Didn't know you could joke like that, Sera."
Sera raised her hands in a vague, noncommittal gesture. Kael took that as confirmation he was right.
"So what's with this exercise?" Kael said. "Why are we picking flowers?"
"It's a dungeon flower," Ophelia said. "Winter lilies. Ratha took them from a gate way back when and planted them on the mountain as a research study. We're going up to grab them for the researchers. Useful for their elixirs or something."
"Two birds, one stone," Yoru said.
"Yep," Darien said, from the pot. "Train us and grab something on the way. It's become more or less tradition for raids now. Last exercise is always fetching flowers and camping."
Kael considered this.
"So we're errand boys," he said.
"Errand people," Ophelia said.
"Right," Kael said. "Errand people."
"More stew?" Darien asked.
Everyone held out their bowls.
✦ ♡ ✦
They were washing up the cooking supplies and dampening the fire when Commander Herion appeared at the edge of their camp. Dark hair ruffled by the wind. Severe blue eyes that swept the camp once – quick, assessing, missing nothing. Hands clasped loosely behind his back. He nodded his head in greeting. In knee jerk reaction, the squad stopped their actions mid-step and stood in salute formation to welcome the superior.
Well, everyone except Kael.
"Kael," he said.
Kael looked up from the pot he was scrubbing. Something between irritation and resignation settled across his face.
"I'm cleaning up," he said, scowling.
Joel said nothing, but kept his gaze locked on Kael. Dark blue eyes steadily burning down the red-headed man.
Kael held his gaze for a moment, his own red eyes flashing in defiance. Then set the pot down.
"Fine," he said. "Fine. Let's talk." He stood, wiping his hands on his trousers, and stalked off beside Joel.
The squad watched them go.
"How do they know each other?" Mira asked, easing from her salute.
Sera looked at her. Then at Ophelia. A nod of shared question.
Ophelia looked between them.
"You don't know?" she said.
"Know what?" Hibiscus said.
"They're stepbrothers."
Silence.
"The commander?" Hibiscus said.
"And Kael," Ophelia confirmed.
In the distance, Kael was gesturing in frustration at something. Joel stood beside him with a stiff, flat expression punctuated with small micromovements that indicated his exasperation.
"What," said Yoru. "Commander Herion, an intelligent, capable man. So effective he became commander at age twenty-four. And he's siblings with that noisy blockhead?"
"Yoru," Darien warned.
Ophelia nodded.
"Yep," she said matter-of-factly.
Yoru whistled.
"Well," he said, after a moment. "That explains a lot."
Nobody asked what it explained.
They went back to washing up.
✦ ♡ ✦
They reached the summit in late afternoon – the cusp of early evening.
The raid force arrived in stages, the same defensive formation they had started with – attack espers first, then guides, then support personnel and defensive espers – everyone collapsing onto the grass and rocks with a collective groaning relief.
Rian and Arlen were already there at the top, at the ledge.
The summit opened into a crater – a wide, shallow bowl where the mountain folded inward, the edges dropping away into a field of winter lilies and alpine grasses that covered the floor from wall to wall, a smattering of pine trees and bushes dotting the landscape.
Arlen crouched beside a small patch of flowers, one in hand, looking pleased with himself. Rian stood at the edge of the summit looking at the view.
Winter lilies. Small. White. Five thick petals, slightly waxy. They grew in clusters in the crater, low to the ground. A dungeon flower originally – pulled from some gate, studied, cultivated, eventually seeded on mountain peaks where the altitude and cold air matched whatever environment they'd come from. Faintly luminescent in low light.
She looked at the field.
It was a beautiful scene – well worth the hike, she thought.
She picked a lily mindlessly and put it against her ear.
And then hurried to help with the camp set up.
The encampment took shape through early evening – tents going up in organized rows, fire pits dug, supply lines established. Commander Cunning moved through it all with a confident, pleased energy – everyone operating as expected. The commanders delegated. The squads formed when necessary.
Sera helped where she was directed and observed where she wasn't.
Kael cooked for their squad again. Nobody complained about this.
The guide quarters were a large shared tent at the eastern edge of camp, a smaller session tent beside it. By evening both were busy – the pre-raid anxiety sharpening everyone's pollution, espers cycling through before lights out, guides working steadily through their rosters. Evening drills had run until supper, the commanders, Rena mostly, pushing final form corrections with her typical intensity.
After supper the camp began to settle. Espers drifted toward leisure or sleep. Guides finished their last sessions and retreated to their quarters.
Sera finished later than most. She was slow, but the espers were still coming, and that was sufficient.
The camp had gone quiet by the time she was done. Most of the raid force already in their tents. She grabbed her portion of dinner Kael had set aside and found a fire that still had life in it and sat down.
The entity grumbled.
She knew. The hippogriff vessel still sitting there unaddressed, the agreement pulling at its edges, the beast's patience wearing thin.
Tonight, she thought.
Now, it rebuffed.
She was mid-argument with it when Yoru sat down beside her.
No announcement. Just dropped onto the grass cross-legged, his own supper in hand.
They ate in silence. The fire crackled. The mountain was cold and the fire was warm.
"Test me," he said.
She looked at him.
He held out his hand.
She put her hand over his and sent her mana through carefully – threading forward, feeling for what he'd built. She found it within seconds. Shields. Simple foundation, a little wobbly, but the structure was there.
She pushed.
He resisted, but his shields caved in an instant – her mana finding ground like breathing.
She stepped in.
Dark. Damp. Warm in the way deep caves were warm – held heat rather than generated it. The walls were wet, something mossy growing on them she couldn't name. Dense, emerald foliage beneath her feet. The ceiling lost in shadow above her. Things moved at the edges – slow, tentacled, unhurried. The ground gave slightly underfoot wherever she walked.
She stepped back out.
Yoru exhaled.
"Thought I could hold longer," he said.
"You've only just started practicing," she said.
He hummed. Looked at the fire.
"What's it like? My core," he said, a sly eye glancing towards Sera.
She considered.
"Strange," she said. "Comfortable. Kinda creepy."
He smiled at that. Small. Didn't say anything.
They sat for a while after.
She still had the flower in her hair.
✦ ♡ ✦
Sera left the tent at the dead of night.
The camp was silent. The fires had burned down to coals. The mountain cold had settled in properly, the kind of chill that sat in your lungs and stayed there. She moved quietly past the sleeping tents and across the grass toward the summit's edge.
The flower field was glowing.
Faintly. Just enough to see – the five petals of each winter lily catching whatever light the stars provided and holding it, the whole field a soft luminescence in the dark. She stood at the edge of it for a moment.
Then she sat down in the middle of it.
Pressed her palms flat against the ground.
The mana was there immediately – the field's ambient output, buzzing and consistent, dozens of dungeon flowers radiating quietly into the soil. A single flower not much on its own but powerful as a field. Enough to draw from if she needed support.
What can you capitalize on, her Instructor had advised.
This, she thought.
The moment she had seen the flowers, she knew, the hearty output of resonating mana would drown out any abnormalities others might sense. She could use this field to eat the vessel.
She sent her tendrils down.
Planted herself, her mana curling around lily roots and dirt. She reached for the hippogriff vessel, opened the maw inside her, and swallowed.
Euphoria rushed in.
The alerts fired immediately.
< Capacity Rebound Initiated >
A post-Filter evolution has defied the System.
Excess consumption detected.
Reclaiming absorbed energy.
Disabling mana regeneration.
All stats are halved.
Time left: 72:00:00s
< Intruder Alert >
A post-Filter evolution has defied the System.
You do not belong–
She threaded her mana into the seams of the interfaces, and yanked them down fast, before they had a change to escalate. Faster than she'd managed with the wyvern, the practice showing – and felt the System's attention arrive anyway. The reclamation tendrils coming in to drain her as consequence and the disablement shackled around her core.
She held still and let the System take from her. It's heavy hand crushing its fingers around her vessel.
Clenched her teeth and strained her muscles as it drained all of her mana, what was left of the wyvern's, what was left of her own regen, until she was at the floor. And then it was pulling the mana that she was pulling from the flowers. The mana passing from the earth, through her body, into the cosmos.
The hunger was large and cavernous. She bit her lip, trying to keep her sanity. Her vision frayed at the edges, she closed her eyes and breathed slow.
The System held for an excruciatingly long moment – she felt it, something large and automated running a check – and then it released. Reclamation successful. Its authority withdrew.
The flowers around her withered, their mana and vitality drained.
Sera sat in that dead patch in the dark, silent, waiting, and felt the beast inside her open its palm and show her what it had hidden. She grinned.
She fell back onto the wilted and collapsed flora around her and laughed.