Chapter-Forty: A Deviant

Outside, the arena remained its cacophony of training, students panting with the exaggerated stress of those who’d worked themselves. But Vilan did not pant, and neither did Gyra. Vilan sat in the sand, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and face bowed in hiding. Around him reia worked. Unrefined lumps of sand the size of an adult’s head hovered about him, four orbs—if they could be called such. And before the boy, hidden from his view, a staff trembled in the sand. Kilvic paused to watch all this, ignoring Gyra’s noted attention on him.

Ariadne stopped beside him, turned her attention to what had his, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Four links,” she gasped. Kilvic was not certain if she was impressed or underwhelmed.

Seven, Kilvic corrected mentally. Barely perceptible, two clusters of air hovered, struggling to maintain their new nature. Ariadne had not counted the boy’s link to the staff either,