Neel, of course, took to the children instantly. He’d played with them for hours.
Vir felt he could hardly be blamed. He’d never once been included in any group for as long as he could remember. He’d always been alone, ostracized, shunned.
Vir was learning how good it felt to belong. And now that he’d tasted this forbidden fruit, he didn’t think he could ever go back to being an outcast.
If Riyan hadn’t shown me the ways of makeup and deception…
He shuddered. He didn’t even want to think about that.
Param’s dam of a mouth opened up again, spilling unending torrents of words—a small portion of which was actually relevant.
Vir learned his youngest daughter loved Saranian fried sugar sweets, and that they were second generation merchants who’d emigrated to Daha from the northern Hiranyan town of Bram.
“What about Hiranya’s royalty?” Vir asked, hoping for any info that might help him. “I’ve heard a lot of things about the third princess, Mina Hiranya.”
“Princess Mina, eh?” Param said, stroking his beard. “She’s almost as famous as her elder brother.”
“I for one think she’d make a fine queen,” Rayali said. “So what if her strength comes from magic? There is no rule that says our monarchs must all be Talent wielders!”
“Mmm, yes, Mina would make for a capable ruler, but she is third in line to the throne. First Prince Sanobar is proving to be incredibly capable. He takes after King Rayid. I do not believe Mina will get her chance unless tragedy should befall her siblings.”
Vir wondered whether they were talking about different people. Their impression of the princess was practically the opposite of Riyan’s take. Whose story was correct? Vir didn’t know which to believe.
While the man wanted to continue talking late into the night, his wife thankfully put a stop to things, allowing Vir to retire under a starry sky.
Wrapping his hands in cloth, he took some hot rocks from the fire and placed them inside his blanket on either side, ensuring he’d stay warm through the cold, breezy night alongside Neel.
In true Vir fashion, he didn’t go to sleep right away. Instead, he snuck away and did what he’d been doing most nights for the past several months—work on his Talents. His Ash Affinity magic.
There were two Talents Vir desperately wanted. Talents that had proven elusive. Empower and Blade Projection. The former infused his attacks with prana, giving them superhuman speed and power. Helpful for kicks and punches, but downright devastating when paired with a bladed weapon.
The latter was like a holy Artifact. His katar was a maneuverable weapon that suited him perfectly, but its primary weakness was its reach—just slightly longer than a dagger’s. Blade Projection would solve that problem by extending the reach of his weapon with prana. What’s more—the attack would be deadlier than steel.
But no matter how much he’d banged his head against the trunk of this Godhollow, it refused to yield. Once prana left his body, he lost control of it, and nothing he ever did seemed to change that.
It wasn’t like he could simply give up and pursue some other Talent either. Many required far more prana than what the meager Ash Affinity in the ground could provide. Ash was far more potent than regular affinities, yes, but that only made up for its scarcity to a degree.
Which led him to an inevitable conclusion—most warriors grew stronger by acquiring more powerful Talents. Vir would grow by perfecting the ones he could use with the limited Ash prana.
To that end, he’d recently discovered that the prana he’d been sucking up from the ground wasn’t all used to power his Talents. Only a small portion of it was, with the rest being absorbed by his body or leaked into the air.
He was incredibly inefficient with his Talent invocations, though rectifying this was easier said than done. Through endless trial and experimentation, Vir had learned that certain muscle groups responded more to certain Talents than others, and that injecting prana into one muscle might yield double the effect as another.
What he hadn’t accounted for were the staggering number of muscles and blood pathways through the body. In order to get prana to the right muscles, he needed to control that prana to an extremely fine degree.
That was the hardest part. Directing prana flows to different destinations within his body in differing amounts proved to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Progress had slowed to a crawl, frustrating him.
Tonight, he wanted a distraction from his prana flow training. Something that would actually make him feel like he was making some progress.
Vir began his practice. He sucked the prana from his foot up into his leg, creating a suction effect that pulled Ash prana from the ground.
Then, timing himself perfectly, he lifted his leg and kicked, willing the prana stored inside to explode.
He almost managed not to fall over.
This was the biggest issue with Empower. Sucking in the prana was easy—it worked like Leap that way. But where Leap didn’t insist on finesse, Empower demanded it, else he’d throw himself off-balance. Both the timing and the amount of power had to be exact or the ability wouldn’t work.
After months of practice, Vir was getting the hang of it… when training. In actual combat, it was still too unpredictable to use. According to Riyan, this Talent took most people years to perfect, so the fact he had almost mastered it in months should be celebrated.
And yet, he wanted more. He always wanted more.
Vir practiced for another half hour until the Ash prana in the area ran dry, forcing him to call it a night and head back to bed.
It had been a long day, so he was out the moment he snuggled in next to Neel.
Param didn’t even ask him to keep watch. The man’s caravan had enough guards to handle that. It was a courtesy Vir truly appreciated, but it left him feeling bad about accepting coin while doing nothing in return.
Morning started early the next day. Soon, they’d torn down the camp and headed out, seeking the shelter of Daha’s shaded streets before the desert heat peaked.
As they approached, Vir learned more about the city’s organization. The vast majority of its residents lived either in the Warrens—the slums that surrounded the city—or the Commons, where most commoners lived. Only the Sawai could enter the District of Internal Affairs, and the royal grounds were off-limits to all without an invitation.
Forget getting to the castle. Even the District of Internal Affairs seemed nearly impossible to gain access to. Legally. Dance of the Shadow Demon afforded several options, but he’d have to inspect the area with his own eyes before forming a plan.
He could hardly contain himself. The sooner he resolved his business in Daha, the sooner he could start searching for Maiya.
The caravan slowed as they ascended a series of switchbacks that led up to the Dahan Steppe from the west. The Ash’va worked hard to carry the heavy loads, and Bumpy was no exception.
With some tender coaxing and treats of hay, Bumpy the Brave made it up, panting and sweating. Vir made a note to stable him at a premium spot, as thanks for his effort.
Slowly, the western edge of the city came into view, but it was as if Vir was looking at a mirage on the desert. The city looked… strange to his eyes, surrounded by a myriad of dark rocks. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on what, exactly.
As they crept closer, the dark rocks revealed themselves to be ramshackle wooden homes. Shacks, really. And not just a few dozen. Hundreds of these buildings butted up against each other, as if squashed. Some looked as though they’d collapse with a stiff wind.