Around the seventh week, Scorio realized that he no longer felt furious or resentful. Labor was just that: labor. Everything felt simplified. He came to know that massive mound of rocks as intimately as his own scarred palms. Worked out a plan of attack on how to demolish it in its entirety. He and Naomi worked wordlessly, moving back and forth to tackle different key rocks that caused others to tumble free. Loaded the sled, dragged it, sweated, suffered together, bathed, ate, slept.
All the while Dameon continued his efforts on the lowest level. An earthquake some unknown period of time ago had caused much of the cave system on the Gold level to collapse, forcing them to engage in their own laborious work, fighting off powerful fiends even as they explored alternative approaches to the ancient treasure vault. Davelos would range ahead in his intangible form, passing through rock to seek new passageways or rooms they could tunnel into, Evelyn ensuring there would be no cave-ins with her hair as they labored, Dameon powering up punches that pulverized entire boulders—though due to fear of causing too large a cave-in, he rarely went all out.
But still, the Dread Blazes were cheerful. Progress was being made.
Ydrielle returned from her third trip some eleven weeks after they’d arrived. Hydra was preparing to hand the Fiery Shoals to House Chimera. Life continued apace. There was gossip of the goings on in Hell. In the Fury Spires the Iron Tyrant had fought a duel and killed an infamous challenger. But Scorio found himself disinterested. He was focused on finishing his third bowl of soup when Ydrielle stared down the hall at him.
“Scorio.” Her tone was sharp. Everyone paused and glanced back and forth. “What is House Kraken’s interest in you?”
Scorio stared at her blankly. It felt like she was asking him about a past life. “I don’t know.”
“You have to know. A Flame Vault approached me in Bastion and asked me to bring you an important message. But he demanded I swear a Heart Oath I’d not read it myself, nor let anyone else, nor lose it. I refused.”
Everyone turned to Scorio. Ravenna, perhaps? But she was an Emberling. And Ydrielle had said “he.” Was Octavia trying to recruit him?
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” Ydrielle sniffed. “Well. Whatever it was, they said you’d have to wait for their response the next time a House Kraken patrol came by the Chasm. He made it sound like you knew what this was about?”
Gazes sharpened. Scorio shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I’ve no idea.”
“You don’t.” Ydrielle’s skepticism was clear. “All right.”
His friends looked curiously at him, but Scorio could only shrug.
Work became meditative. Scorio would go entire cycles without thinking beyond the next immediate challenge. He was vaguely surprised that none of his friends broke through to the next rank, but would remind himself that it usually took years. He worked. Naomi and he became like obverse sides of the same coin. Her black hair developed chestnut streaks. His own grew into a shaggy mane that he took to wearing in a ponytail.
And then Jova hit Flame Vault.
The news rocked the camp. She’d taken to ignoring him, not rudely, but simply showing no pity or interest in his situation. He’d discussed the matter with Naomi early on; her opinion was that Jova was all pride and no sense.
Scorio thought it went deeper than that. Their argument had wounded her more than he’d anticipated. And those words she’d said when they’d thought they were dying to the Ixithilions… “I thought we… like last time we met…”
Nothing more than a fragment, but the sorrow in her voice, the hungry wistfulness. It was all too easy to imagine what could have happened. “The night you came to talk to me. We… I’m sorry Scorio. I need to go help.”
But she’d never brought it up again, and since arriving at Camp Manticore had become a near-perfect stranger. He saw her constantly in Dameon’s company, and knew that they were becoming close, that he saw her as his personal mentee.
So it wasn’t too surprising when the camp exploded with the news.
Scorio dropped the large rock onto the sled and looked toward the shaft as the elevator finally breached the sunlight. Juniper and Zala were ecstatic, Leonis mock-glowering, Lianshi looking amazed. Dameon was beaming like a proud parent, and in their center, self-contained and remote, stood Jova.
She stared out across the muddy grass and rubble at him with an expression that was nothing short of righteous victory, then gestured toward where he stood.
No, past him.
The mound of boulders and rocks shifted and groaned, and a slab the size of a coffin tore itself free.
It flew smoothly through the air to land beside Jova. She stepped upon it, and rose a few feet into the air.
“I’m going to enjoy my new power for a while,” she informed Dameon. “Excuse me.”
The slab rose up and then sped off over the canopy, Jova crouched slightly and leaned forward into the wind.
A moment later she was gone.
Lianshi and Leonis ambled over, talking animatedly as the others went into the hall to celebrate in Jova’s name.
“She made Flame Vault,” said Naomi flatly.
“How did you guess?” Leonis grinned. “Of course she did. It’s absolutely awful. None of the Dread Blazes are surprised—apparently she’s always a prodigy. And her ability to control stone is what made her so formidable at LastRock. Guess the name makes more sense now, too. And here we are, still Emberlings. Even Scorio’s ground to a halt at Tomb Spark—sorry, it’s true—and there she is, a blasted Flame Vault.”
“So she can control rocks?” Scorio tried to imagine all the ramifications. “That’s… obscene.”
“It’s what makes her so damn powerful.” Lianshi sighed. “Dameon told us everything he’d heard about her. She used to create storms of flying stones that would pulverize her enemies, there’s that flying trick, though apparently she needs only a shoe-sized rock under each foot, and she can control everything but real sand. She’s brutal with gravel.”
“She’s brutal with gravel,” said Leonis, then laughed. “Never thought I’d hear someone say that with such awe.”
“Her primary limitation—though it’s barely that—is she needs to see what she’s affecting. Even a thin layer of soil or grass blocks her ability. Dameon advised her to carry pouches of rocks with her at all times, and be wary of bodies of water, farmland, or forests.”
Naomi looked sick. “Scorio’s right. That’s obscene.”
Leonis sighed. “Isn’t it? Now not only is she incredibly hard to kill, and can scare the sanity right out of people’s minds, but she can hurl boulders and fly. Ridiculous.”
“And she’s tempered her body with Bronze.” Even Lianshi sounded envious. “Which is rarely done outside of the Telurian Band. No wonder Dameon’s been so invested in ranking her up. She’s an incredible prize for Manticore.”
“If she stays,” said Naomi dourly.
“I think she’ll stay.” Lianshi stared in the direction Jova had gone. “She gets along really well with Dameon. He makes her laugh.”
Scorio stared at Lianshi. “Laugh? This is Jova we’re speaking about?”
“He’s charming.” Lianshi shrugged. “Though he’s been focusing on Jova. It’s hard to resist though. The few times he’s spoken directly to me I’ve felt like an awkward teenager, all elbows and knees.”
“What does that even mean?” asked Naomi. “Elbows and knees? No. He’s just a manipulative man who knows how to smile when others hesitate.”
“It’s called charisma,” said Leonis heavily. “And he’s got it in spades. And I agree. Jova’s not going anywhere just yet. I think she’s going to be sworn in as a full member of Manticore soon.”