A raw, metallic tang lingered in Ren’s mouth. The consumed power of the chasm-beast still hummed beneath his skin, a discordant melody within his own quiet being. Sir Kael watched him, an unreadable expression on his weathered face. A silence, heavy as the canyon’s twilight, settled between them.
Ren shifted his weight on the rough stone, hands clenching, then relaxing. What words could bridge this new chasm? His power, a terrifying gift, was also a brand. Kael had spoken of noble houses, of bloodlines and war. Was Ren to apologize for the very essence that defined him, for potential echoes of distant ancestors he’d never known?
To pretend ignorance, though, felt like a lie. The raw, world-bending might he now wielded, the very force that had saved Kael, was tied to that lineage. Claiming the strength while disowning the history felt hollow, disingenuous.
Minutes stretched, thick and unyielding. The air grew colder, the wind a mournful whisper through the Crag’s jagged peaks.
Kael clapped a hand on Ren’s shoulder, a firm, reassuring weight. “Don’t look like you’re about to face the Sun’s Judgement, boy! You weren’t even born when the spires bled.”
Ren felt a dry laugh catch in his throat. Kael, with his strained smile and haunted eyes, looked more like he’d just faced the Judgement himself. He simply nodded.
“It’s pointless, this cycle. Young men getting entangled in old grievances,” Kael continued, his voice rough. “Wash blood with blood, and the fighting never ends. It’s always the folk at the bottom who pay the price, in coin and life.”
Yet, the lines etched around Kael’s eyes, the faint tremor in his hand, betrayed his own unspent sorrow.
Ren’s voice, a low rumble, broke the quiet. “Do you regret it?”
Kael’s brow furrowed. “Regret what?”
“Telling me to leave the Crag.”
If Ren pursued his power, if he truly understood the ‘Chasm’s Echo,’ his path might lead him to House Alaris. The noble houses, Kael had explained, were built around specific bloodline abilities. To strengthen his power would be to draw the gaze of that house.
Such a choice presented a clear danger to House Eldoria, Kael’s own faction. A mage of Ren’s terrifying caliber, joining a house they’d once warred against, could shift the balance of power, fatally.
Kael shook his head. “I trust your measure, Ren Vayne. The kindness you showed, a stranger, revealing your hidden self just to help me. If a man like you ascends within House Alaris, perhaps you could prevent the next great fracturing.”
A bitter taste filled Ren’s mouth. Kael overvalued him. Ren hadn’t been driven by grand ideals. He’d simply been lonely, starved for conversation with someone who didn’t flinch from his presence. He hadn't wanted to watch a man he’d grown to tolerate simply die.
If Kael had treated him with suspicion, with the usual fear, Ren might have simply watched him wither. Ren stared at the uneven ground, lost in the thorny thicket of his thoughts.
Kael offered a small, crooked smile. “No need to weigh the world on your shoulders yet. You haven’t even decided to join any house, have you?”
“Not yet.”
Truthfully, the idea of wandering, hunting chasm-creatures like Kael, held a strange appeal. It felt freer than tying himself to a distant, imposing house. The very name, Alaris, brought a vague prickle of unease.
“Regardless,” Ren added, “I’ll stay until your wounds are mended.”
“Wounds? Just a few scrapes!” Kael laughed, the sound booming unexpectedly through the still air, chasing some of the gloom away.
---
Days later, as Kael slowly recovered, Ren sought his guidance. All his life, he’d simply *done*, a raw conduit for the Chasm’s power. He wielded it instinctively, with terrifying force, but without understanding.
“Magic, or the Chasm’s energy, is often called the ‘Fabric of Reality,’ ” Kael began, perched on a jutting rock, gesturing vaguely at the swirling canyon mists.
“The Fabric of Reality…” Ren repeated, the words feeling weighty, profound.
“It’s not truly boundless, as the name might suggest. Every manipulation, every distortion, demands a toll. A proportionate cost of energy. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”
A sharp nod. The draining exhaustion after consuming the beast, the lingering hum of power that felt almost *too much*. “What determines that cost?”
Kael cleared his throat. He held up three fingers, gnarled and scarred. “The ease of a magical feat rests on three pillars: bloodline, mastery, and causality.”
Bloodline. Mastery. Causality. Ren etched the words into his mind, an anchor in the vast, swirling unknown.
“First, bloodline. This is your innate gift, the twist of your heritage. It’s why some can perform feats others can only dream of. For instance, you would find it near impossible to mend my wounds, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” Ren tried to recall the effort of even simple mending, the resistance he always met. A minor cut might seal, but deep gashes? The Chasm’s Echo was about entropy, distortion, not careful construction.
“Those of House Seraph, the ‘Lifeweavers’ of the southern low-sands, can mend flesh with a thought. The most gifted can regrow limbs, purge sickness. For someone outside that bloodline, such power is a distant fantasy.” Kael’s gaze softened. “Your mother…”
Ren flinched. If his own power had been of that kind, if he could have rewoven the frayed threads of her life… He bit back the surge of useless grief. What was done, was done. He drew a shuddering breath.
“And mastery?” Ren pressed, pushing past the pain.
“Proficiency,” Kael clarified. “A wizard finds it easier to perform actions they are skilled in, familiar with. A mage who trains with a blade might find it simpler to conjure a phantom edge, or infuse their weapon with force. One who spends their days in the river might find it easier to manipulate currents.”
“My habit of shaping the Chasm’s energy into bolts, like throwing stones?” Ren asked, a flicker of understanding.
“Astute. Precisely. A general burst of raw energy, without that shaping, wouldn’t carry the same speed or impact. Your familiarity guides the power.”
Ren felt a quiet satisfaction. This made sense. He had always instinctively shaped the energy, as if it were a physical extension of himself.
Kael, smiling, then furrowed his brow. “The third, causality, is the most crucial, yet the most elusive. Even I struggle to fully grasp it. Simply put, the more ‘natural’ an event, the easier it is to conjure.”
Kael stroked his chin, searching for words. “Consider: what would happen if you simply tried to kill me, right now, with pure Chasm energy?”
Ren pictured it. The beast’s resistance. “Your head would simply flare, I imagine. Nothing more.”
“Exactly. That’s a lack of causality. No proper ‘cause’ for the desired effect, or the task itself is overly difficult. In your case, both.”
“I think I understand cause.”
“Explain it, then.” Kael leaned forward, genuinely curious.
“Yes. To kill you, I couldn’t just will your death. That’s too abstract. I would need to provide a cause. To twist the air into a crushing force, or ignite a localized inferno, and direct *that* at you. It’s more ‘natural’ for a fireball to kill than for a raw thought to.”
This was the lesson the chasm-beast had hammered into him. Direct assault failed. Shaped, focused assault succeeded.
Kael clapped his hands, a sharp report in the still air. “Remarkable! A scholar’s mind, not just a wielder of force. Your insight is exceptional. A proper cause dramatically reduces energy consumption.”
“But I can kill wolves with just a thought,” Ren mused. “Why only the chasm-beasts need this kind of approach?”
Normal animals were simple. A surge of energy, and they crumpled. The beast had been different.
“Creatures imbued with the Chasm’s energy develop resistance, proportional to their own power. But a *completed* spell, a manifest force, can bypass much of that innate defense. Of course, if the power disparity is too vast, even that might fail.”
Kael explained this was why Ren’s shaped flames had immediately seared the undead spirit, while Kael’s own direct spell had been nearly useless. Direct magic, on another powerful mage, was almost an impossibility. The raw will of one would clash against the raw will of another, creating only ripples.
A dull ache throbbed behind Ren’s eyes. He pressed his temples. “Magic isn’t simple.”
“A truly great mage isn’t just a wellspring of power. Understanding these principles, knowing your limitations, and mastering the manipulation of your surroundings – these are all equally vital.”
Ren closed his eyes, replaying Kael’s words, turning them over in his mind. Then, a thought struck him.
“House Alaris. Do they have a special magic?”
Kael had spoken of heightened senses, keen night vision, uncanny aim with projectiles. But those weren’t magic. They were physical traits.
Kael nodded. “They do. Alaris mages excel in Concealment and Tracking. Have you ever tried such a thing?”
“Tracking, sometimes,” Ren admitted. He’d used it to follow his mother’s faint aura, or to pinpoint roaming wolves. It had led him to Kael. “Never Concealment.” There had been no one to hide from, alone on the Crag.
“Try it, then. Lesser mages can achieve basic invisibility, a shimmer in the air. But the highest Concealment, the total removal from perception – that’s an ability unique to the Chasm-attuned lines.”
Ren focused. *I don’t want to be seen. Not heard. Not smelled. To simply… not be there.*
A familiar wellspring of energy began to churn within him, drawing down, down, into some unseen depth. It emptied rapidly, a terrifying drain.
He looked down. His hands. His rough clothes. All visible. Nothing seemed to have changed.
“Did it work?” Ren whispered.
Kael stared, unblinking, at the spot where Ren had been standing. His eyes were wide, unfocused. “It worked. I cannot see you. Are you still here?”
Ren rose from his sitting position. He paced the small cave, his boots scraping softly on the rock. Kael’s gaze remained fixed on the empty space. Ren stomped, then snapped his fingers near Kael’s ear. Nothing. No reaction.
Satisfied, Ren released the draining energy. Kael blinked, his eyes snapping into focus, glaring directly at Ren.
Then, Kael let out a long, shuddering breath, as if he’d been holding it for an eternity. “It’s been decades since I witnessed that. As terrifying now as it was then. During the War of the Spires, Eldoria’s knights prayed for the dawn. Each morning, entire barracks would be found with every man’s throat slit.”
“That… feels impossibly unfair.” Ren’s voice was hollow. Not the healing power he’d once longed for, but this? How could one fight an enemy they could not even perceive?
Kael shook his head. “It is not invincible. No power is.”