Parai’s full-body technique felt similar, except Vir had never mastered it. He’d inherited it from a prior life.
But what does it do? he wondered. Lacking the skill to control it, he’d messed up the cycling pattern when he’d taken control. That had caused it to stop functioning, and…
Well, that explains it, Vir thought, glad that his prior incarnations had the good sense to allow it to operate without his guidance. If not, he’d have died the moment he lost consciousness.
“Ashani? What name would you give to that pattern? The one that I messed around with earlier?”
“It appeared to be a prana repulsion field, to me,” Ashani said. “My people once had implements that achieved largely the same effect.”
That’s a hard name. How about… Prana Barrier?
“What did they use them for?” Vir asked.
“Mainly academically, for researching prana.”
“Hmm. Well, I don’t plan on researching prana, but I do believe it’s what’s keeping me alive.”
“Yes, though it is also preventing your blood cells from adapting to the ambient prana levels,” Ashani commented accurately. “You should consider weaning yourself off of it. Your pranites will aid you.”
“I’d love to,” Vir replied. Oh grak. “The pranites!” Vir said, finding them mostly gone again.
“Consumed in healing your injury,” Ashani said grimly.
“Challing Ash!” Vir groaned. Ashani chuckled.
“What’s funny?” he asked. “I just wasted one of your precious pranite vials. There’s only two left!”
“Yes, the situation is far from ideal,” Ashani admitted. “I was merely responding to your curse. Chala was quite the notorious trickster, you know? And a good friend of Janak’s.”
“Wait, Chala was real?” Vir asked incredulously. “You knew him?”
“Quite real,” Ashani said nostalgically. “He’d have doubled over in laughter if he ever heard he came to be worshiped as a god.”
“You miss him,” Vir said softly.
Ashani gave him a sad smile. “I miss everyone, Vir.”
“W-well, I uh, I probably shouldn’t experiment with that inscription pattern until I have a better understanding of it. I’m good to charge your core, though.”
“You should rest,” Ashani replied. “Your body is still not fully healed.”
“I’m fine,” Vir insisted. “I feel much better already. Those pranites really work fast. Do you mind injecting me again?”
Ashani obliged, dosing him with another vial of the blue liquid.
Vir sat cross-legged on the floor and got to work, charging the core as quickly as he dared. The pranites moved so quickly, he could feel the miniature machines moving within his palm.
This time, he kept a close watch on their charge. When they’d depleted halfway, Vir moved them next to the surface of his skin and turned on the prana collection function for half of them, allowing them to consume prana from the saturated layer he maintained.
The process went smoothly initially. But after an hour, Vir began to sense something was wrong. Not all the prana was captured by the black orb. The excess that leaked into his body from the air was minimal, but it built up over time. Instead of ejecting it, he fed the prana to the pranites when they ran low.
He thought he could keep this up indefinitely, but it was not to be. His body began to resist this transfer of prana, and purging his body became harder and harder.
Eventually, his blood saturated, and any more would have burst his cells.
Vir halted the process, setting the orb down.
Prana Saturation. This is what happens when mejai can no longer use magic. In their case, they lost the ability to evacuate prana from their palms, thus losing the vacuum effect.
For Vir, the prana machines could cycle forever as long as they had energy, but it was the rest of his body that was the weak link.
There was nothing to be done other than to let the prana bleed off.
“This could be a problem,” Vir said in frustration. “Might be some time before I can channel prana again.”
Barely an hour of charge, for two days of rest. The pace wasn’t sustainable. Vir felt he could bring the charging time down to a month by accelerating the flow of pranites even more, but only if he was able to charge it every waking hour of every day.
Still, it was hard to feel too down over it. He had an Artifact of the Gods in his body! If he managed them carefully, they’d fill a gaping hole in Vir’s combat arsenal—namely, his ability to heal. They would also boost his offensive potential.
Moreover, they proved a theory Vir had entertained ever since seeing the Pagan Order’s electricity.
Decoupled prana is superior. Incomparably superior.
Pranites weren’t pure prana—they had a physical component—but they were smaller than his blood, and held far more prana. Not only was he able to move them around his body far quicker, they also produced a much greater effect.
Which made Vir wonder just how powerful he would grow if he learned to decouple prana from his blood entirely. Would there even be an upper limit to how fast he could cycle the current?
What great powers would he obtain if he did?
Not if. When. Vir now felt confident it was possible. He needed only to unlock the secret.
Satisfied, Vir stood up.
And then the orb he’d been filling shattered.
36SERENITY
“Incredible!” Ashani said, her eyes twinkling. “To think they thought it auspicious to build their cities under our Vimana! Fate can truly plot a strange course at times.”
“Why? What are the Vimana?” Vir asked, though his heart wasn’t in it. Not truly. Every word he uttered felt like nails in his chest after what he’d done.
He sat on a comfortable chair across from Ashani, high on the rooftop of a nearby building—one so tall, it pierced the curtain of clouds that covered Mahādi. Ashani had set up something of a retreat there with a chair, table, and awning to block the ashen rain. She’d silenced Vir’s apologies and insisted they come up here after the orb had cracked.
Despite the heaviness that weighed down on Vir, he had to admit this was a novel experience. He’d always wondered what the world was like above the clouds. He’d envied the birds that soared so high. What did they see from their towering vantage?
Now he knew. Clouds extended to the horizon in every direction, the dead city’s dark skyscrapers piercing them like islands in a stormy sea.
A quiet sea. It was as if a god had slowed time, bringing the ocean to a halt amid a hurricane, allowing only the half dozen Wyrms to slink lazily between them.
The knowledge that everything he beheld, from the towers to the thunderclouds to the Wyrms, resulted from a self-induced apocalypse lent an air of melancholy to the scene. It was enough to move a demon to tears.
How could something so terrible be so beautiful? Vir thought.
Even knowing those terrifying beasts roamed the skies, Vir couldn’t believe the tranquility, witnessing the blighted realm from above. The devastating lightning and the dramatic thunder were muted here, reduced to pops of light and faraway rumble. Even the Wyrms blended into the background, adding to the spectacle.
I can see why she likes it up here, Vir thought.
He could hardly believe this beautiful scenery was a part of the Ashen Realm—for while they were above the clouds, they were also below a cloud layer that floated even higher.
Clouds above and clouds below, and only Mahādi’s central spire pierced them both. Vir wished he could capture this image. He was sure his eyes would never behold such an awe-inspiring vista again.