Scorio gave a sharp nod. “Thank you, Instructor Hera. I’ll let nothing stop me from reaching Emberling as soon as possible.”
“So says every Cinder,” she said. “But how does one reach Emberling? It’s not simply a question of desire.”
Scorio relayed what Naomi had explained, the need to reach the very limit of his Heart’s ability to draw in mana, to expand its size to the point where he could barely cause ignition.
“Correct. It sounds simple, but in practice, it’s as laborious as training to double the amount of weight you can lift. An exercise in discipline that requires time and constant work. Let’s see where you’re at with your development. Go ahead and summon your Heart, and then ignite with whichever mana source you desire. I’ll observe.”
Scorio felt a fluttering in his chest and swallowed quickly. He resisted the urge to smooth out the fabric of his robes over his knees, and instead closed his eyes so that he didn’t have to watch Hera watching him in turn.
This was it. After endless Eighthdays of training, after pushing himself to his very limits and risking everything to achieve this level of power, he’d finally get an objective evaluation of how far he’d come.
He took a deep breath, settled himself more comfortably, and then summoned his Igneous Heart. It appeared before him, large and faceted, dark and mysterious, and he took a moment to consider its obsidian substance in the light of his conversation with Hera. There, given form, was his very sense of self. His being. Raw-edged, enigmatic, its surface scrawled over with spidering lines.
Scorio then turned his attention to the ambient mana, and was nearly overwhelmed. The three treasures on the altar exuded incredibly potent and remarkably dense power, such that vivid streams of black, copper, and gray flowed up and washed around him, never mixing but forming endless layers in the air all around.
Which should he go for? Coal for its familiarity? Copper for its fluid flexibility? Iron for its greater power?
Iron. If he wished to impress Hera and show that he belonged, then anything less would speak to a lack of ambition.
He reached forth with his will, thinking of it as always a paddle, broad and strong, and sought to sweep the Iron mana around his Heart. He could feel Hera’s gaze, the weight of her consideration, and strove to move the Iron with efficiency.
It wasn’t intrinsically heavy and dull like Coal, but rather dense and requiring its own unique form of focus. As if Scorio had to be deserving of its service, had to manifest the requisite amount of authority to command it to do his bidding. Focusing intently, Scorio willed it into motion, and slowly it responded, moving about his Heart at a calm pace.
Then, with great focus, Scorio inhabited his Heart, became one with it, and drew upon the Iron, inhaling it into his being even as he willed it to flow into its core at the same time.
The Iron poured into his Heart smoothly, and Scorio felt his own sense of self change subtly in response; he felt more solid, more composed, his nerves soothing and his edginess washing away.
Once he’d drawn in as much as he could—though hardly a fifth of the Iron around him—he flexed his will and caused his Heart to ignite.
The effect was immediate; his Heart released great tongues of gray flame, and strength flowed into his body, making him feel fell and masterful. Scorio observed the burning Heart for a moment longer, admiring the ethereal flames, and then opened his eyes.
Hera, however, was frowning.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Your Heart,” she said. “You’ve been training exclusively with Coal, have you not?”
“Of course.” It took effort to keep his voice from becoming sharp.
“But not just Coal. A lot of Coal. You’ve been driven like all Great Souls to acquire power, and it’s cost you.”
“Cost me how?”
“Your Heart,” she said again, her voice turning stern. “It’s heavily fractured. Coal will do that if used in excess. You vent a good portion of the mana you take into your Heart before you can burn it.”
Scorio’s head drew back sharply as a sensation of dizziness swept over him. “Wait. Fractured?”
Hera nodded slowly, seeming to stare straight through him. “You’ve got patterning that indicates severe moments of stress that your Heart wasn’t strong enough to absorb. Did you consume elixirs or work with treasures of beyond Iron grade?”
Scorio nodded numbly.
“Right. I won’t ask how you came across such resources in the wild, but it’s taken a toll. Right now you’re venting almost… I don’t know, a third of everything you draw in, and that amount will go up the harder you push yourself. Think of your current practice as jumping up and down on the edge of a crumbling cliff. Your best bet is to simply stand still, but even that won’t undo the damage you’ve already done.”
“There has to be something I can do to heal it,” said Scorio, though his voice seemed to come from far away.
Hera’s gaze focused and she smiled. “Of course. You’re far from the first Great Soul to have tried gaining too much too soon. Your Heart will heal, but remember what I said about it taking exponentially longer the more damage it’s taken? Given the extent of the cracking, you’d heal up in a year or two if you didn’t push yourself until then.
Scorio immediately went to protest, but Hera raised a hand. “Of course, that’s not something anyone wants to hear. There are treasures and high-level pills available that will greatly speed up that process. Now, unfortunately, these are beyond the scope of what the mess hall will provide; we’re talking high-grade healing. Your best chance of acquiring such pills would be by acquiring the patronage of a major House.”
Scorio sat back, shoulders slumping. “I thought the Houses had already chosen their proteges.”
“They have. But you think them above acquiring a promising new candidate?” Hera’s smile was somewhere between pitying and encouraging. “They’ve evaluated the current cohort and made their selections. You weren’t there during that evaluation, and will merit scrutiny if you prove yourself.”
Despite her words, Scorio found it hard to wrench his mind away from the faults in his Heart. “And how would I do that?”
“The easiest way is to petition to enter the double-elimination tournament. I’m not sure how they would insert you—and probably Naomi—but if you enter and win enough combats, you’ll draw attention.”
“Right,” said Scorio, staring down at the altar of treasures. “Any other way?”
Hera pursed her lips and considered. “Accomplishing an impressive Gauntlet run at the end of the semester will draw attention, but you’ll be hard-pressed to stand out amongst your cohort as a Cinder with a fractured Heart. If you proved exemplary at your academic studies you might earn a recommendation from your instructors, but given how much material you must cover, that will prove challenging. We’ve many motivated and very intelligent students who are already excelling in class.”
“Great.” Scorio took a deep breath. “What about solving the problem with brute force? Simply becoming better at drawing in mana to compensate for what I lose?”
Hera raised an eyebrow. “Fine as far as it goes, but you’ll only cause your fractures to widen. It might be a temporary means to get ahead, but you’ll purchase your every success at the expense of your future.”
“Got it.” Scorio forced a deep breath and sat up once more. “Well, no regrets. I did what I had to do to get here. If my next step is winning the tournament, then that’s what I’ll do.”
“Impressive resolve,” said Hera with a wry smile. “Given that your cohort already boasts thirty-one Emberlings and you’re still but a Cinder.”