Chapter 35: Future Promises (1/2)

I do not, unfortunately, get to rest for long, as I am soon brought screaming into wakefulness by the pain of getting immolated alive. I spasm, trying to run, but something grabs me and hauls me further into the flames!

“Shut up or I’ll shut you up,” Gladra snaps.

What…? Oh. The fire’s not real, it’s Gladra’s soul. It still hurts like hell though! She’d grabbed me and pulled me over her shoulder after I… well. No time to think about that! I have to get out of this searing pain!

“P-put me down, please!” I plead, flailing around a little.

She ignores me, turning and walking back towards the wagon. In fact, the horrible woman takes a deep breath, and the heat of her soul starts to increase! The pain licks at me more and more and more, until the sheer agony is all I can think about. I start to scream again, crying and begging for her to stop.

She stops, exhaling. The heat flows out into the world, disappearing from my senses as the great tempest of her soul calms into a warm breeze. I stop thrashing, relief spreading through me.

“Better?” she asks.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Much.”

“Good,” the High Templar grunts, tossing me into the wagon. I land hard on my butt. “Next time, just tell me you’re sensitive to mana.”

I blink. Is that what her soul storm is made of?

“I didn’t know I was,” I admit. “This has never happened before.”

She tilts her head, the chitin helmet shifting.

“Really? Sit still.”

Her hands move so fast, I can barely follow the patterns. The heat within her soul rises ever so slightly, gathers, and dissipates once more. I feel a pressure around me, the same sort of weight as when Remus drew his sword.

“Does that hurt?” she asks.

“No, not really,” I answer.

She scowls, and the pressure increases. The air is like a soup, but it’s still not painful in the slightest.

“Still nothing,” I tell her.

“Hmm. So you’re sensitive to mana, but only when it’s being channeled.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means you’re going to have a bitch of a time around me,” she answers. “Most mages don’t channel mana when they’re not casting. I do, however. It helps with prepared spells, it’s a good workout, and it brings me closer to the Mistwatcher. The danger is of little consequence to people with actual talent.”

Penelope, who had been politely eavesdropping behind her, scowls. Yeah, ouch.

So basically, mana hurts like hell, but I only feel it when it’s in someone else’s soul. That’s weird. Would I hurt myself if I channeled mana? No, that doesn’t make sense. If I’m a natural mage, presumably I’m channeling mana whenever I use my spooky stuff, right?

Wait, wait, wait. I need to back my thought process up a bit. What happened? Penta was in control so I started trying to look at my own soul, which prompted… ugh, maybe I shouldn’t think about this, I’m just going to want to hatch again. It’s like trying not to scratch an itch. I might need Penta’s help here. Wait, fuck, where’s Penta?

I put my hand over my pouch, and thankfully I feel the little slime’s soul safely inside the rat we brought. Oh, thank goodness. She must have fled in there to avoid the excruciating pain. I don't want her to stay in that rat for too long, so I poke at her. She flinches, retreating deeper into the pouch. I try again, more gently. Hesitantly, she oozes out of the rat and slips into my hand.

”How does channeling mana bring you closer to the Mistwatcher, anyway?” I ask. I doubt Gladra can notice Penta without really looking hard for her, but distracting her while the little slime moves seems like a wise decision anyway.

The High Templar chuckles in response to my question.

”Mana comes from the Mistwatcher, of course. Everything does, to some extent; the islands fly, the sky glows, the rains fall... all of this is done in accordance to its indomitable will. Mana is the physical manifestation of that will on the world, and when we use it for ourselves, we are merely borrowing.”

She holds out both hands and her soul stirs. I feel the raging, horrible heat that burned me when I touched her... she pulls it in from outside, sucking it from somewhere I cannot see. It changes within her, becoming a storm of fire. I see a frozen, smoking crystal form above one of her hands. Above the other, the air wavers, shaking and wobbling like a mirage.

”When I cast a spell, I am taking a miniscule fraction of the Mistwatcher's power and shaping it. I tell the world 'Take all heat above my right hand and move it above my left,' and the world obeys, because the Mistwatcher's power is above that of the world itself.”

She claps her hands together, and the resulting shockwave nearly shatters my eardrums. The spell ends, and her soul returns to tranquility. I never saw her move her fingers around... but I thought she’s a learned mage?

”All magic is like this,” she continues. ”This is a fact whether you worship the Mistwatcher or not. To me, worshipping the source of my strength seems only reasonable. Not that I suspect it makes one whit of difference.”

I frown.

”Why not?”

”You'll see when we reach the edge. Lay back and rest for a bit. We need you in fighting shape so you can go poison my ex.”

”...Wait, what?”

Gladra winks, then her soul flares back to a scorching inferno. She moves towards the front of the wagon, shouting at other Templars to get moving again. Penelope hops in beside me and the cart starts to move again, leaving me with Penta and Penelope, alone in the wagon.

I want to apologize to Penta, but she's taking her sweet time swimming up my arm. I'm curious about something else anyway.

”So... what do you think about all that Mistwatcher-is-magic stuff, Penelope?”

She scowls, huffing out a blast of air to flick a strand of curly hair away from her face.

”Well, I'm hardly one to argue with the Annihilator herself, but mana is more or less all-pervasive. The theory that it comes from the Mistwatcher is mainly substantiated by the fact that islands closer to the mists have higher mana density, while the higher an island is, the lower mana density it has. As much as that seems related to the Mistwatcher, I feel like it should go without saying that there are many other possible explanations for it. To me, it seems more likely that the Mistwatcher resides below the mist because mana density is higher there rather than the mana density being higher there because the Mistwatcher is present.”

”Huh. Okay.”

Penta finally makes her way into my neck and settles in, so I wait. She'll probably know I want to talk with her when she catches up on memory-reading.

”How do you not find it strange that your method of apology starts with me reading the memory of your intention to apologize?” Penta whispers, covering my mouth.

Rowan says I find a lot of strange things normal. But there are lots of things I think are strange, too!

”Rowan is... a very odd con artist. The way you and Penelope would interpret your memories on the matter are very different.”

I don't doubt it. But, hey. Are you all right?

”I... yes. I'm as all right as I'll ever be, I suppose.”

What does that mean?

My body sighs.

”Well, I’m held prisoner while my one lifeline rapidly loses sanity and intends to use me in a plot to commit genocide on my species, and then you start fucking with your own soul in front of a High Templar!”

Hey, you weren't exactly staying low profile when you were sassing that High Templar yourself. You keep breaking your own cover! I thought you were going to pretend to be me so you don’t get caught?

”I don't want to be you!” Penta snaps quietly. ”I want to be me!”

Uh, I mean yeah. I want you to be you as well, Penta. I like you. But like, I'm just saying, if you're going to get on my case about doing something dumb in front of a High Templar—

”Wasn't this supposed to be an apology to me?”

Oh. Right. Yeah, it was, sorry. I don't know what that was, but I definitely lost control. I'm sorry for scaring you.

My body takes a deep breath.

”Thank you for meaning that. And for saying so. I... I was also scared I'd lost you, you know. The way you were thinking when you were in that fugue... that was the most frightening thing of all.”

What do you mean?

My whole body shudders.

”Vita, the longer I stay in you, the more you become a part of me. But I don't want to be... whatever you are. I just want to be a normal person. I want to take my friends on shopping trips and take nice baths and eat good food and not worry about torturing anyone else to get it. I want to be human.”

Well, you're not human. I don't know if I am either. We're never going to be normal. It's just not what we are.