Hello! We're back in Firepaw's perspective for this one. Enjoy!

Chapter 5 - Fiyr

For the first time in nearly a week, my sleep is undisturbed.

That is… until…

"WAKE UP!" Graie's yell echoes through the squire's wing painfully loudly. "You missed breakfast! The most important meal of the day!"

I snap awake and groggily pull aside the curtain that separates my tiny room from the rest of the wing. Sunlight's filtering through the cloudy glass windows and I realize that it's barely past dawn. The gods never woke us up this early. "But… it's so early!"

"Guess it's not what you're used to, being a—former, um, god employee," Graie says carefully. He doesn't need to pick his way over terms for me to know exactly what he means. If things were easy before, not so much anymore.

"But… breakfast!"

"Exactly," Graie says earnestly. "Breakfast. I saved you some fruit."

"Thanks," I grunt, catching the apple he flings me.

"Better get dressed, Sir Cawle's not in the habit of waiting," Graie informs me, about to pop back out of the room.

"Sir Cawle? Is that who I'm training with?" That's a daunting task. I barely caught more than a couple of glimpses of the powerful knight, but what I did see was what appeared to be more a beast than a man.

"And Liyon Hartef, the new captain of the guard," Graie adds. "Sorry, did I not tell you?" His grin lets me know he is less than sorry.

"Is that all?" I sit up in bed, already crunching into the apple.

"Well… also Samn and Duss, the other two Thundria squires that you haven't properly met yet. There's me, Ravne, you now, and... uh, those two." His tone on 'those two' makes me wonder if I should be worried. He motions to two nooks side by side but I don't see anything strange about them; it's the same small desk, bed, and dresser that we both have, although theirs look more lived in than mine, with quills and paper scattered on the desk and books on the dressers.

"I met Samn, right? He was Sir Tayle's son." Another stab of pity presses into me.

"That's right. But forget that for now, get dressed! Fresh clothes are in the top drawer. Hurry!"

And with that, he's dashing away. I have a brief moment to wonder if he's capable of normal speeds of movement, but then I'm seized with excitement and enthusiasm for the new day. Time to find out what this squire lark is about.

Four and a half minutes of awkwardly hopping around on one foot while trying to put on my pants and admiring the Thundria emblem on my chest later, I'm finally ready to leave.

Graie's waiting impatiently by the heavy oak doors of the castle.

"C'mon! Sir Cawle, Sir Hartef, Samn, and Duss are already at the stables. We're getting our squire 'quipment today!" And with that, Graie seizes the handles of the doors and flings them open to let the morning's sunlight in.

By the time I make it to the doorway after him, he's already gone. My stomach groans at the idea of charging after him on the fuel of only an apple.

I find the stables to see Graie in the middle of an animated explanation of why I haven't arrived. The minute I set foot in their direction, he spins with a flourish and flings an arm in my direction.

"And there he is!"

"Glad you could take the time out of your busy schedule to join us," Sir Cawle says coolly.

"Welcome, Fiyr." Sir Hartef's greeting is a little more hearty, but he gives me a chiding look. "Make an effort to be on time in the future."

"Yessir," I say, trying to catch my breath. "Sorry, sir."

"Since my squire has unfortunately injured himself," Tigre drawls, "Liyon and I will be sharing your… training. For the time being."

I bob my head again. "Yessir."

"Good to have another squire onboard," another knight, who I recognize to be Sir Strommer, the knight who accompanied Sir Hartef to bring me back to the castle, says. He gives a little push on the shoulders of the two sullen teens accompanying him. "Introduce yourselves, don't be rude."

"Duss," the shorter but still tall boy with the spiky brown hair, cut suspiciously similarly to Tigre Cawle's, says. He makes no effort to extend his hand.

"I'm—um, I'm Fiyr," I say, tripping over my new name.

"I know," he says rather sourly.

I turn my attention to the other boy, the one I bumped into in the dim corridor of the healer's wing. The healer, I think, remembering her. Her eyes looked like the doe's from my dream.

The one that I conclude must be Samn is leaning against the fence of the stables, looking supremely bored; he's the tallest of the four of us, approaching Sir Strommer's height, which only adds to his aloof look of superiority. His pale, strawberry blonde hair brushes his neck, glinting golden in the sunlight. His olive-green eyes don't meet mine, instead wandering across the landscape of treetops. I blink.

"Samn, don't be rude," Sir Strommer says, chiding but not harsh.

"I just didn't think I'd be training with a god-toy is all." The boy, Samn's voice is kind of low, rougher than Graie and Duss's.

His words sting for some inexplicable reason, more than Liang Teyl's from the previous day. I just don't know what I did to lose his favour, and I have a weird pull to try to win it back. "I'm not a god-toy anymore. I left."

"Once a god-toy, always a god-toy," he says simply, shrugging his narrow shoulders and stretching with a yawn. "Can we hurry up? I'm bored."

It seems to be an unspoken rule among our mentors to tolerate his rudeness as they glance back and forth silently. I'd guess it's because of his father. I wonder if he got special treatment when his father was alive, him being captain and all.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to meet your father, he sounds like a great knight," I say softly.

His face crumples with fury, twisting to anger in an instant and making me recoil. "What would a god-toy know of greatness? I'd appreciate it if you didn't pollute the air I'm breathing with your god chatter."

Sir Hartef purses his lips and strides to the front of the stables, evidently deciding he's had enough of Samn's attitude. I can't help only feeling pity for him.

"I'm sure you've all been excited—well, perhaps not Fiyr, but you'll be excited too, soon enough," Liyon says, drawing our attention to the stable doors. "Your horses await. The carvings were replaced last night."

A glimmer of interest finally shows up in Samn's olive green eyes, and I look away after realizing I was sort of staring.

"Wait, horses?" I repeat.

"Yeah, we get horses," Graie grins, nudging me.

"Graie," Sir Liyon invites, beckoning him forwards to the stall with a cross and circle symbol on it. "Your horse awaits. In the stall you'll find your training sword as well. Remember—"

"Yeah yeah, hold the handle and speak its name, I know how it works," Graie interrupts, then glances back at me. "But Fiyr, think about what you want to call it, 'cause you're stuck with it until it takes your knighthood name."

I nod, silently absorbing the fact that apparently I'm about to own a sword as well. I don't think the people in Prin's books ever named their swords, but alright. It's definitely not the weirdest thing I've encountered in the last few days.

"Samn," Sir Strommer says, motioning to a stall door with a symbol that I'm pretty sure is supposed to mimic a sand dunes against a sky. The gods had a tapestry like that.

Samn says nothing, just pushes open the stall door. It reveals a dun mare that's drinking water and pointedly not looking at us. Samn looks faintly surprised, then smiles a little.

Graie starts, like he forgot he was about to get a horse, then pushes open the stall door that Sir Hartef motioned to. Inside is a pale gray horse and a sword hanging at the back of the stable.

"Why didn't Samn get a sword?" I ask Sir Strommer.

"He's already got his," is his reply.

I nod, settling back in to watch Graie coo over his horse.

"I've got to think of a good name for him," he announces.

"What about your sword?" I question.

He reverently lifts the glinting silver weapon off its station by the blade, careful not to touch the handle. "It's just a practice sword, made of simple steel. I'm not going to have it forever. When I get my true-steel sword, that's the important one," Graie explains lightly, but I know the nonchalance is more an act than anything. He grips the handle, and the sword gleams yellow for a moment, and I know it's not the sunlight. "Hurricane."

The sword abruptly stops glowing, and Graie grins wildly, giving it a couple experimental swings.

"Watch it!" Duss snaps.

"Duss, your horse awaits," Sir Hartef says, lifting a hand in the direction of a stall door with a triangle made of dots engraved into the wood.

"Sweet." He flings with door open with reckless abandon, startling the darker dun mare inside.

I note that he doesn't have a sword hanging in the stall either, and I mutter to Graie, "So what did they name their swords? Sour and Sullen?"
"Bolt for Samn's, Storm for Duss's," Graie replies, still turning his own 'simple steel' or whatever he called it sword in his hands. "Once they get their full names, it'll change. Samn's will be Sand something, and Duss'll be Dust something. I've got 'gray' for my first part, so my last part better be epic or I'm going to end up with something stupid like Graynose."

I narrow my eyes, trying to puzzle out his words without looking like a simpleton. "And what are their swords called?" I motion in the direction of Sir Hartef, Sir Cawle, and Sir Strommer.

"Sir Hartef's is called Lionheart, Sir Cawle's is Tigerclaw, and Sir Strommer's is Whitestorm," Graie says with a tone of great respect. "They seriously lucked out in the name game. Come to think of it, you've got a great name too, but with them, Queen Bluelianna gave them the greatest names of all time. But I guess it's not that surprising, both Sir Hartef and Sir Cawle were born to pretty Old-Thundria families, and Sir Strommer is Queen Bluelianna's nephew."

"Her nephew?" I repeat incredulously, studying the slender knight with the bright tufts of white hair gracing his scalp. He must be at least forty. "Huh. I guess the queen is older than I thought."

"Not that much. Her older sister gave birth to him," Graie explains. "She died a while back."

Wow. Everyone has someone close to them who died in this kingdom. Should I be worried? But the thought leaves me instantly when Sir Hartef beckons with a wide smile.

"Fiyr, of course, our newest squire." I puff out my chest. "Your horse awaits."

He gestures to the final stall on the row. It's a symbol of a flame. Fire.

Excitement pounding in my chest, I carefully push the stall door open, and the morning sunshine pours in, illuminating a dark, brick-red horse, and at the back… my sword.

The horse has one strip of white running now its nose and a darker mane and tail, and the sword—

"Mrrooow?"

With a little laugh, Sir Strommer observes, "Looks like you've got three gifts today, Fiyr."

It's a fluffy cat, with brown and white silky fur that looks almost wet in the sunshine. The cat's amber eyes regard me with sharp intelligence, and I'm reminded suddenly of a certain sister of mine.

"Princesc—" I cough, not wanting to elicit any questions from these almost strangers. "Princess. I'll call you Princess."

The cat rubs its—her head against my shin, purring.

"Hurry up and name your sword!" Graie exclaims, elbowing me forward.

"Okay, jeez!" I exclaim as the cat startles and darts away to an open patch of sunshine where she settles down happily. I wonder if she knows she's hundreds of feet off the ground supported by leaves alone. Actually, I really wonder how she got up here. I step past the horse and carefully unhook the sword from where it's hanging on the wall.

It's heavy in my hands, and the leather wrapped hilt is already warm from the sun.

As I grip the handle, it glows dark red, like what I imagine a dragon's eye would look like. And every ounce of creativity in my body leaves me immediately.

"Well, what are you going to call it?" Graie demands, on the verge of hopping from one foot to another.

I frown a little at the sword, then carefully set it down next to all the riding equipment in the stall. The glow ceases.

"I don't know," I confess. "I guess I didn't really get a chance to think about it."

"Seriously?" Graie demands. "I've got like, a million second picks. How about Tornado? Static? Charge? Lightning? Torch?"

I shrug. "I'll think about it. I don't need to decide right away, right?"

"No," Sir Strommer confirms. "But don't overthink it; as I'm sure Graie informed you, it won't be the permanent name."

"Enough of this pointless chatter," Tigre Cawle grunts. "Mount your horses, squires, we're going to the borders. Leave the swords here, you won't be needing them today."

"The borders?" I mutter questioningly to Graie.

"Of Thundria. Boy, you sure don't know anything, huh?" It's not exactly rude, but the words are still irritating.

"Not nothing, it's just new," I defend.

"Try to keep up, god-toy," Duss jeers, already half-on his horse.

"We'll be back to check on you after we fetch our horses," Sir Hartef informs us before turning on his heels so stride towards a larger row of stables where I'm guessing the knights' horses are kept.

There's a beat of silence as the knights stride away before Samn breaks it, his husky voice thick with amusement.

"A god-toy trying to mount a horse? This I have to see."

Of course he's already on his stupid horse, looking like he's lounging on a bed. Duss scrambles atop his after a moment too and smirks down at me.

Scowling at them, I turn to where I set down my sword and I realize that I have no idea where to even begin with all of the fancy equipment.

Graie's making solid progress with his, and I try to copy but I'm soon hopelessly entangled in the buckles and bindings.

"That part's supposed to go on the horse, not you," Samn calls out helpfully.

"Thanks," I snap off, trying not to look at him and Duss.

"I see someone didn't do stable-work at his owner's house. Not surprised though, you don't look like you've seen a day of hard work in your life," Duss snorts. "What were you, a cook? Maybe you can help the ladies out in the kitchen."

I bite my tongue as they continue jeering, trying in vain to replicate Graie's sturdy structuring of each piece. He finishes with a final click and turns to me with a grim expression after examining my handiwork.

"Need some help?" he offers.

"Desperately," I say gratefully, holding out the mess.

"How are you all making out?" Great. The knights have returned, Sir Strommer looking terribly amused by my efforts, Sir Cawle just exasperated. Sir Hartef examines it.

"Do you need help?" the knight offers with an expression that makes me wonder how hard he's working to suppress his laughter.

"Graie's helping," I mutter.

Sir Hartef purses his lips, eyes twinkling. "Well, I suppose we'll have to organize extra lessons for you to learn to mount a horse. I would put you with the children, but we have none of age at the moment." Awesome.

Three excruciating minutes later, my horse is ready to go. They hustle us over to where a peculiar patch of leaves opens up, leaving a hole in the foliage and in an instant I've been hurried into it. With a hum of what I now recognized as life-force in my ears, my surroundings are instantly replaced by the forest floor.

I marvel at the abilities of the landscape, but everyone's lack of reaction suggests this is routine. Suppressing my incredulous comments, I turn to the knights and wait for instruction.

"Let's ride," Sir Strommer commands, and we're off at a quick pace.

My butt is instantly aching. I hazard a glance at the other squires, but they seem to be handling it with ease. Never seen a day of hard work in his life, Duss's jeer echoes in my ears and I harden my expression.

I can put up with a little aching if it'll earn his respect.

The horses must've been trained well, because even with my limited knowledge of how they work, I can tell the way they pick their way easier through the woods is nothing short of incredible. Just walking, I would already have a faceful of dirt from tripping on the roots that seem to be sticking out of every inch of the ground.

"So have you thought of a name for your sword yet?" Graie says eagerly, his horse just to my right.

"Not yet." I shrug. "I can't really think of anything good."

"What about a name for your horse?" He is undeterrable.

"Uh… dunno."

"I'm going to name mine Quicksilver," Graie pronounces, twisting his hand in the horse's dark gray mane.

"That's a good name," I comment blandly, frowning down at my horse like it's its fault I can't think of a good name. "What do you think of… um, Nutmeg?"

Graie rolls his eyes. "For a squirrel, maybe. Yours should be something that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies! And you've got a red one, so the fire-themed possibilities are everywhere. Though, I do love a good bit of nutmeg on a flaky crust of…"

And he's off, muttering to himself about baking. I would trust his opinion on the baked goods of the castle, given it's fairly obvious he's kind of round around the edges and he's enjoyed his fair share of pastries.

I pet the horse's mane absentmindedly, trying to think. Something fiery? Flame? I don't know. Graie's better at this stuff. Ember? Coal? Spark? Nutmeg's still probably my top pick, but I agree with Graie. It should be something cool.

Inferno? That's not too bad, I guess.

"I know!" I suddenly give a little excited bounce and the horse jerks forwards. "Blitz! I'll name him Blitz."

"Your horse is a girl," Samn sneers from ahead, twisting around to shoot me a look of scorn. "Are you blind?"

I flush, and not because of the warm sunlight. "No. But Blitz is a perfectly fine name for a girl, they can be fierce too." I think of Prin on the day of an important performance and shudder. Straighten up! It looks like the dogs dragged you out of the barns!

Samn's expression ripples into a little frown, and he tilts his head, looking a little thoughtful.

"Blitz is a great name," Graie says approvingly. "Good choice."

I glow under the praise. Now I just need to figure out what to name my sword. Pokey-stick?

"Gods." The warning is barely out of Sir Cawle mouth before the two other knights abruptly halt.

How does he know? Are they coming? I wonder, adjusting my seating on the now halted horse nervously.

"Safe," Sir Hartef grunts, and we pass the seemingly innocuous patch of trees.

"How did he know?" I mutter to Graie.

"Checking the Trace," he explains, then sighs at my bewildered expression. "It's a sort of alternate reality that you can tap into using your life-force. It's called that 'cause everything leaves an invisible imprint on that world when they pass through this one. You can sense their traces. You have a trace that tells everyone who checks it when you're around that you're a human fire elementalist, but you have to be really good with life-force to tell other people's life-force types. I mean, it's not that hard to narrow it down between alchemist, summoner, or elementalist, but getting into specifics is hard unless you're really good, like Sir Cawle."

I nod, a little mystified by the prospect. I can tell what's where? Like, magically? And what's he talking about with 'alchemist, summoner, or elementalist'? I'm an elementalist, right? Will I be able to sense other elementalists, then? But it's not such a stretch, since not long ago I had been enveloped in fire without so much as a singed eyebrow to show for it. Why should the gods have all the power? I can do what they can—they don't have power over me anymore.

We continue straight in the same direction for so long that I begin to wonder just how much land Thundria covers. Though I'm not certain, it feels like it might be much bigger than the gods' estate from end to end. Eventually, we reach a sheer cliff that cuts sharply, far down enough to make me dizzy, down to reveal a town, framed by the water stretching out for seemingly forever. It's a beautiful town, storefronts and houses alike spreading across the land, but my eyes are pinned to the water.

"The border?" I can't believe my ears. "Rivier lives out there?!"

Because it doesn't look like the border. It looks like the end of the world. Beyond the town, there isn't a forest, or plains, or even mountains.

It's an enormous lake, so wide and expansive, I can only see faint, misty lumps on the horizons that I'm guessing are islands.

"Yes. They're a nomadic kingdom, never settling on any of the four islands for longer than a season. They live aboard a fleet of galleons, constantly in movement, only stopping to tax the people of the islands to prepare for their next voyage," Sir Hartef explains. "Below us is the village of the Sun Stones. It's the largest village in the four kingdoms; a trade fair is hosted there every year that draws merchants from across the kingdoms."

I gape openly at the lake. I can't imagine being on a boat every minute of my life; in fact, I've never spent even one minute of my life on a boat. Would it feel like always being in movement? Just thinking about it makes me feel queasy.

"Let's ride," Sir Cawle snaps. "Doesn't look like any Rivien warriors are on our territory."

Sir Hartef shoots him a warning look and I try to puzzle out the exchange to no avail. Something about the emphasis on our territory, I'm guessing.

My horse—Blitz, I think happily—and the rest set off at a quicker pace than before, moving with much more ease on the flatter field between the sharp cliff and the forests of Thundria than they did inside the woods. It seems like we're heading for four long spires of some kind that point toward the sky in the distance. When we come to where the cliff finally eases off, the sun has travelled a good way through the sky and it's about midday. My bottom is raw and I'm eager to get off the horse. When we dismount, I gape at the new surroundings.

"Welcome… to the shrine of the four kingdoms," Sir Hartef says grandly, sweeping a gloved hand across the landscape. "Each solstice, the four kingdoms' courts amass to share news on the solstice pavilion."

But I'm barely listening to his explanation as I stare at the 'shrine of the four kingdoms'.

It's an enormous clearing, the size of Thundria's castle in floor space alone. A stone pavilion, that looks ancient but serviceable. Ringing the pavilion are four colossal pillars, each longer than my body in diameter alone. They're what we saw in the distance before, surely, but I'm astonished by the enormity of them.

I look up, trying to see the top. Each is different, emitting a strange wave of power. It feels like life-force the same way a glass of water looks like an ocean. The one closest to where we arrive, which I assume is Thundria's, is dark brown with a rough surface like that of the trunk of the biggest tree in the world. Sparks dance up and down its sides, and I have no doubt that touching it would be a terrible idea.

The one to its left, closest to the huge lake, is a pale stone pillar with moss in each crack of the stone, barely visible through the water that rushes down the sides, splashing into a pool at the bottom that rings it like a mini moat. Somehow, the water never seems to rise in the pool, as though it's sinking into the ground, and the water never stops running down the sides either.

The other two pillars, one to my right and one directly across, are also peculiar and evidently magical. The one on the right must be corresponding to one of the other kingdoms Graie mentioned. Wind and Shadowa or something, I remember.

The pillar I'm guessing is for shadow-kingdom is made of dark stone, obsidian or something like it if I had to guess. It casts a shadow as dark as the stone it's made of, but the shadow isn't behaving the way a normal shadow would. It's pointed in the direction of the sun, for one, and it's rippling like a reflection of the sky in a pond that was disturbed by a stone.

The one across from Thundria's is almost too far away to identify, but it's made of some kind of dark gray stone, slate or something. It's swirling with dust and the sound of wind whistling through the air can be heard from all the way over here. I squint, trying to figure it out, but I can't tell what it is from this far away.

"That's Shodawa," Graie stage-whispers to me, pointing at the dark pillar way off to our right.

Show-dah-wah, I repeat in my head, trying to fix it there.

"There are a lot of kingdoms, huh?" I mutter back.

Apparently, Sir Hartef can hear us and replies to my comment, "That is why it is so important that we protect our prey."

Queen Bluelianna's anger flashes back through my head, and before I can stop myself, it's all coming back out. "But that's idiotic! If you all worked together, no one would go hungry."

The whole group falls silent and the only sound is the wind whistling around the wind-kingdom's pillar and the water splashing from Rivier's. Sir Hartef and Sir Strommer look disapproving, Samn and Duss are frowning, Sir Cawle's face is twisted in anger, and Graie just looks worried.

"Foolish god-toy," Sir Cawle spits. "Such treacherous thinking, from a newcomer no less. Do not presume to know better than centuries of tradition."

Sir Hartef puts a calming hand on Sir Cawle's shoulder and he gives him a look. "Speaking from your heart will make you a strong warrior, Fiyr, but what will make you a stronger warrior is knowing when to speak and when to listen."

Sir Strommer looks uneasy, and Liyon gives Tigre a quelling look.

"We meet peacefully each solstice, and then is the time for cooperation of the kingdoms against outside threats," Sir Hartef explains.

"There must be one soon," I say, then squeeze my mouth shut, embarrassed to have burst out right after Sir Hartef explained the importance of listening. Maybe… Sir Cawle's right… But I won't be newcomer forever.

"Yes, the summer solstice," he praises. "Very good. But what you must remember is that the truce between kingdoms lasts only for one night, and you could meet any of these knights in battle one day."

"Loyalty to your kingdom is what makes the court strong," Sir Cawle interjects. "Letting that loyalty waver for even a moment could be any knight's downfall."

"Let's keep going," Sir Strommer says glancing between Liyon and Tigre uneasily.

We set off again, this time in the direction of the obsidian pillar and along the line of pine trees and deciduous trees it cuts across the landscape. We haven't gotten far before Sir Hartef stops us again.

"Soulpath," he warns cryptically.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"God-toy doesn't know what a soulpath is?" Duss sneers and I redden defensively.

"Gods travel across them. They're opal and glass paths," Sir Strommer explains, motioning to the thick and wide slab of iridescent white that runs through the forest like a glass stream. "They travel that way; their souls can move from place to place easily. You have to be careful, getting hit by a soul would kill you almost instantly, or at least cripple you for life."

I shiver. The prospect of crashing into the soul of the ten feet tall humanoid deities doesn't sound appealing. A strange tinkling noise alerts me to movement far down the path, where a sparkling cloud of white seems to be shooting along it. It flies past us and the sound of shattering glass rings in my ears.

"Let's head back, it looks like everything's clear," Liyon announces.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't think I or my backside could handle much more.

When we arrive back at the castle, I clamber up the ladder like I did when Sir Strommer and Sir Hartef first brought me to the base of the enormous trees. Duss and Graie follow suit, but I glance back down the ladder a couple of times without seeing Samn before I realize that he's scaling another of the trees with nothing but his gloves and boots protecting his hands and feet.

I marvel at his ability to scale the tree like a squirrel when I can barely manage on the ridiculously long ladder, when Duss finally snaps, "Would you hurry up? Some of us want to make it to dinner on time."

Food, my belly rumbles approvingly.

I make it the rest of the way up without incident and with several snarky comments from Duss.

"Squires, return your horses to the stables and wash up for dinner," Sir Hartef orders.

My brain nearly melts as I realize that after dismounting the horse at the base of the ladder, Blitz has reappeared on top of the tree's thick foliage, and I'm reminded of my initial concern from yesterday. Can leaves really support my weight? and then Sir Strommer's answer, Well, they can support that castle, so I would say your chances are good.

They've got to be magical, I decide. The horses, the leaves, the trees, the castle, some of it or all of it is enchanted in some way.

"How can you walk so slowly when there's food to be eaten?!" Graie demands, bouncing over to me.

"Er… I guess I am pretty hungry." I shrug. "Say, what's going on with these trees?"

Graie looks down, then back at me with an incredulous expression. "What, the trees? What about them? It's dinner, who cares?!"

"But like… a castle. On trees," I explain eloquently.

"Yeah," he says with an air of 'no-duh'.

"How?"

"Oh, uh, Thundria's first king, he was a… forest enthusiast," Graie explains. "He used one of his Nine Blessings—"

"His what?" I repeat, baffled.

Graie runs his hands through his already-messy hair. "Blessed Starlaxi, you sure don't know anything, huh?"

"Well, I'm trying," I say, gritting my teeth.

"Okay, so here's the dealio." We start off towards the stables as Graie begins to explain the incredibly confusing manner of the kingdoms. "The monarchs, when they ascend, go to the Lunar Crystal to receive these special gifts from the Starlaxi. Nine Blessings, Nine Gifts, Nine Lives, lots of names for it. Basically, super strong celestial magic that can do practically everything. So Thundria's first king was super committed to the safety of his court, and there was a big war raging between all of the newly formed kingdoms, so he used one of his Nine Blessings to make this entire forest grow much larger, with the central trees hundreds of feet tall."

He motions to where we stand on the foliage of a colossal tree.

"And then, with either the same blessing or a different one, he created Thundria's castle and made it possible for us, and the castle obviously, to be supported by just these giant trees," Graie finishes.

"And the teleporting horses?" I demand, gesturing to Blitz who is now placidly trotting along like she didn't magically warp up a couple hundred feet moments ago. We head toward the stables and we put them back in their stalls as Graie explains.

"Oh, that was a blessing from one of the other leaders. Though it's not exactly safe for people to use them, uh, barefoot, so to speak. Safer if you're on something like, say, a horse. We used it earlier, 'member?" he explains. "In the early days of Thundria, the blessings were usually used to improve the quality of life for everybody, whereas now it's usually for healing and stabilizing purposes."

"Healing? Like, of people?" I frown. "If that celestial magic or whatever is strong enough to make an entire castle stand on top of a giant tree, why would it be wasted on a broken arm or something?"

Graie shakes his head pityingly. "No, not broken arms. Usually, you only have to be around captain level to heal a broken arm in about fifteen or so minutes. That's the sort of general life magic that everyone has. Using one of the Nine Blessings for healing can literally bring people back to life."

My jaw drops. "Like… resurrection?"

"Pretty much," he nods. "But it's... dicey. That's why it's necessary to use a Blessing for it—the natural cycle of life-force kind of disagrees with defying death. What is born of it must return to it. Monarchs usually only save their own lives, because the life-force gets a big bump when leaders die, so it's usually okay with waiting a bit longer because it'll be worth it."

"Hang on, it's 'okay with it?' As in… is the life-force alive?" I ask, frowning.

"Well, not really." Graie shrugs. "Sort of. Just don't question it too much."

I roll my eyes. I guess there's a lot you just have to take for granted around here.

"C'mon, let's go eat." He peels off the wall of the stable and starts heading for the doors of the castle.

"Wait!"

If I'm going to be leaving my whole life behind, then I want to take more than just Princesca with me… I think resolutely.

"What? I'm starving, can it wait?" Graie demands.

I duck back into Blitz's stall and grab the still-nameless sword. The blade illuminates in a glittering blaze of red. I exhale tensely and speak.

"Rusty."

Thanks for reading chapter 5! Please follow and favourite this story and leave me a review with what you think!

~Akila