“Captain, I’m here with today’s report.”

  Maeryn opened her eyes, emerging tiredly from her meditative state. “Ernesto. Go on.”

  The holy mage nodded briskly. “No real change. Mana levels are slowly rising. The Solarists are rapidly clearing the Mist from the northern half of the continent. We think it’ll take another couple of weeks, but soon it’ll be done.”

  Maeryn sighed, trying not to sound too exhausted. Judging from his expression, though, she hadn’t succeeded very well. “And once that happens, we’ll need to turn south. And start attracting the attention of the Mad Prince again.”

  Ernesto nodded unhappily. “If we don’t, ambient mana will start depleting again. We may have purified the mana well in Korinth, but the world is still pouring more Mist than mana into the world. It doesn’t look good, Captain.”

  She pursed her lips, unable to disagree. The Prince’s Ninth Undead Legion had carved its way through the very best Geova had to offer, and had only been stopped when Maeryn turned necromancy against them. While humanity now had a number of holy mages that were far more effective against the Undead, Maeryn still didn’t want a clash until it was absolutely necessary. The other Legions, after all, were supposed to be far more deadly.

  That said… “We can’t wait much longer. Have you heard back from Frankie and Peter about their ground-based vehicles? We can’t fly over the Glacial Expanse in Stonewing because of the constant ice storms, and it’s too far to reasonably travel on foot.”

  “Not yet. I talked to Darla and convinced her to send Wind Whisper to Flamespire, but haven’t heard back.”

  “What about Airspire and their research into insulated portable shelters? The Glacial Expanse’s temperatures drop well below zero, and it’s even worse with the biting winds.”

  Ernesto cracked a smile, finally. “Good news on that front. Dan sent a message earlier saying they’ve got something. I’m just glad Zephyria knows how to deal with winter storms. Still hard to believe Geova doesn’t have any experience with them.”

  “Yeah, well, living underground means not having to deal with surface weather all that often,” Maeryn muttered. “As soon as we have transportation and shelter, we need to get moving. The drow probably had a mana well in their capital, like the other races. If they did, and we can purify it, we can at least stem the mana bleeding. Buy us some time.”

  “Right. And we can retrieve any notes they had about holy magic while we’re there.” Ernesto shifted. “Speaking of holy magic, how are you doing with that now that you’ve attuned?”

  Maeryn held up one hand, palm up. A Sacred Dart manifested there wordlessly, before shifting into a silver-white orb of shifting fire. “Basically a holy Fireball spell, though it doesn’t burn anything but the Undead. Still struggling with a name, though.”

  “It still explodes a bit, right?” At her nod, Ernesto tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe Holy Impact?”

  Maeryn slumped in relief. “Yeah, that works. Thanks.”

  “No problem. And you’ve practiced that Turn Undead spell?”

  “Yeah. Had one of the new necromancers raise a hyena and hold it still for me to test against. My Turn Undead works.”

  “Good. Good.” Ernesto looked briefly uncomfortable, but forced himself to ask the question that Maeryn knew was coming. “And… your fire magic?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Her face fell. “Still gone.”

  Ernesto sat down on the floor across from her. “How’re you coping?” he asked gently.

  “I’m… coping,” Maeryn replied lamely. “It’s hard. It feels like every decision takes ten times as much energy. And sometimes I just don’t want to move at all. It’s weird.”

  She tried to sound breezy. Matter-of-fact even. But the truth was she was still devastated by her loss. There were days that she felt the world wasn’t worth getting up in the morning. Moments where she felt utterly disconnected, where her body ached to move and her spirit just felt dead.

  And she knew dead. Her primary affinity now was necromancy, much to her unease. Maeryn knew why that was, of course. Her years as a hunter aligned all too well with the magic of the end. The ruthless pursuit of her goals, of survival no matter the cost, no matter how many other people needed to be shamed or humiliated, no matter how many rules had to be broken…

  Yeah, Maeryn understood why necromancy was her strongest alignment. That didn’t mean she liked it. So she tried to avoid that affinity as much as possible these days, preferring to remain attuned to holy, or to wind. Ice was too close to necromancy for her to be comfortable with it these days. But she desperately wished her spark would return. She missed being able to burn.

  Ernesto let out a slow breath. “I understand. I really do. It just feels like a big old spiral that drains you, doesn’t it? Where everything you do, everything you think, just takes and takes from you until you’ve got nothing left.”

  Maeryn nodded miserably. “But there’s no one else. Jacob’s back on his pilgrimage. And everyone’s looking to me to save us all.”

  Her friend shuffled forward and pulled her into a hug, one she gratefully returned. “I’m glad you’re letting me help you.”

  Maeryn shook her head. “You’re the one helping me. I don’t want to imagine where I’d be without you. All of you.” It was true. She’d told her team about the loss of her fire magic shortly after it happened. Dan had been utterly horrified; there were stories of alchemists who lost an affinity, and almost to a man they were shells of who they used to be until they could reclaim it. Fire magic was inevitably the worst one to lose, though, as it was the hardest to get back.

  Earth? A little time and solid grounding in repetition typically fixed that. Wind? Some time off and doing something ridiculous and fun helped with remembering freedom. Water? Almost unheard of, but a vacation and exposure to the tranquility and peace in Lakehollow nearly always got them back on track.

  But losing fire? Losing the spark for life? There was no guaranteed treatment, no easy solution. You couldn’t just magic up motivation, or deliver drive, or put passion on a platter. The victim would either find fire or not on their own merits. The only consistent advice from those who'd reclaimed their spark was space, time, and as few demands as possible.

  So the team had split up to tackle everything that needed to happen in the immediate future. Frankie and Peter had thrown themselves into making ground vehicles for traversing the Glacial Expanse in Flamespire. Dan had gone to Airspire to figure out portable shelters for the trip. Ooble had returned to the dragonkin to learn the Drow language from any records they had—or pestering the High Necro and Spirit Shamans until they would teach him. Veronica and Terrance had departed to Zephyr, looking for some secret library that Terrance’s family had apparently created. And Ernesto had remained with Maeryn at Siltwind, acting as her go-between, emotional support, sounding board, and the commander of the Solarists.

  Maeryn had tried hard not to lean on her friend too much, but he’d really stepped up. She wondered sometimes if he had suddenly developed mind-reading magic, but Ernesto insisted that it was simply experience being “somewhere in the vicinity of where she was, emotionally.”

  Which was something she couldn’t really deny. He’d grown up as a necromancer during a time where that affinity was vilified and reviled, and that hadn’t been easy. Maeryn supposed that gave Ernesto the qualifications to know when someone close to him was in despair over their affinity. Or, in her case, her lack thereof.

  She inhaled, then slowly pulled away from Ernesto. He let her go without complaint, maybe sensing that she was a bit more stable now. “So, what’s the plan?” the mage asked plainly.

  Maeryn closed her eyes, wondering once again if she was doing the right thing. It was so hard these days, to drudge up the energy to problem-solve. Doubly so when it was for her own benefit. But just like they needed to address the world’s mana problem, she couldn’t put off taking care of herself anymore. Not when other people were counting on her.

  “I’m going to send Jacob a Wind Whisper. And ask him to teach me earth magic.”