Lith’s skin was still pink and there was no flaming crown above his head but the expression on his face was identical to the grimace of the monster he had faced in the Mindscape.
“That’s why it felt familiar. That was your own face that you saw from my memories every time we fused together.” Solus said while letting him go.
“Since when do I look like that?” Lith asked.
“Since I know you.” She shrugged. “Do you remember the serial killer glare that scared the others when you were little? Well, that was your expression when you were trying to be normal. This was your face when you were fighting.”
She pointed at the mirror, where Lith’s reflected image was fixed in a savage grin.
“Are you serious?”
“Why do you think people pissed themselves or cried for mercy?” Solus replied. “Imagine someone like that looking at you while wielding a powerful spell. That’s what your opponents had to face for a long while.”
“So I don’t do that anymore.” Lith sighed in relief.
“Not really. More like it’s less frequent.” Those words made him choke on his optimism “That’s how you still were after Lark’s death. When you fought Meln in Lutia. After Phloria died.”
“Are you telling me that was a version of me?” He asked.
“A possible version of you, yes.” Solus nodded. “And probably the reason Mogar felt the need to warn you. Whatever you become with the bright violet, it might be cranked to one million if you later become a Guardian.”
Suddenly the dead wasteland made sense, yet he drew no comfort from it, only more worry.
“Why has no one ever told me about it?” Lith turned around, incapable of facing that version of himself any longer.
“Because we love you.” Solus gently caressed his cheek. “And because most of the times you make that face, you are fighting for the people you love. How could we blame you for turning into a monster for our sake?”
“This is so fucked up.” He grabbed her hand. “Do you think that the first and the third answers are linked? Can that thing be one of the ways the pieces of my psyche might assemble into?”
“Or maybe that’s the form you’d take if they end up not matching at all.” Solus used a mind link to show him how Aalejah saw Lith under the effects of Soul Vision.
With the Abomination on the Dragon’s forehead, his scales black, and the flames blue.
“Fuck me sideways.” Until that moment, Lith had considered his own appearance to Soul Vision just an oddity, like everyone else’s so-called true form.
Now, however, it took a whole new meaning.
“What do you think we should do?”
“I’m sorry, but this is one of those rare times when there’s no ‘we’.” Solus said with a sad smile. “Mogar was pretty clear. It’s about a choice that doesn’t involve me. The only thing I can do is be by your side when the time comes and remind you of what was shown you today.”
***
Despite her best intentions, it took Le’Ahy two whole days to master a few spells. She had never practiced fake magic, making accents and magic signs even more infuriating than they already were to the average apprentice.
To a true mage used to feel and weave the mana, it was like learning to do every day’s chores while wearing a straitjacket. Something stiff, restrictive, and unforgiving.
The only silver lining was that in those two days, the Parliament of Leaves had made no progress. The faction that wanted to serve the World Tree in exchange for power and the one that preferred to spill blood in the short term to gain long-term freedom were evenly matched.
It was the reason they granted a humble huntress audience so quickly without throwing red tape at every step of the procedure. She had promised something that would break the stalemate and half the Parliament hoped she would deliver.
House Ra’Firo in particular had backed her request, hoping to ride Le’Ahy’s achievement and reinforce their position of supremacy in the Parliament. The fact that High Chancellor M’Rael agreed had been the final nail in the coffin of their opponents.
Much to their surprise, she walked into the hall accompanied by a male elf they had never seen before.
“I thank every member of the Parliament for receiving me so quickly.” She gave them a deep bow that the other elf stiffly imitated a second later. “I won’t waste your precious time and go straight to the point.
“A couple of days ago, I received a gift from our sister Aalejah Eventide. Something that will make even the less talented among us into a precious soldier capable of defending our lands and people.” She took out the magic grimoire and offered it to the nearest representative to examine it.
Then, she explained to them how fake magic worked, its strengths, and its limitations. After that, she proceeded to give the Parliament a practical demonstration.
“That’s very interesting, Hunter Birdsong, but it proves nothing.” Representative Bal’Eza of House Ra’Firo said in the politest tone he could. “You are a member of our elite forces and these are just tricks. It’s only natural that you can master them easily.”
“That’s why I brought master Embergleam with me.” She replied with a confident voice while inviting the male elf to step forward.
“Greetings. My name is Ut’Van Embergleam.” The elf stammered from the imposing presence of the Parliament members. “I’m a cook at the Archer Squirrel.”
His whole life he had never gone above the middle level. He had never met the representative of his own Clan, let alone those of the great houses.
“A cook?” The word echoed through the hall, disdain mixed with disbelief.
“He accepted to practice with me and I can bring here his army training instructor who is willing to testify that master Embergleam didn’t qualify even as a foot soldier.” Le’Ahy said. “Show them what you can do now.”
The poor elf looked around like a cornered rat, sweating more than during summer while standing in front of the heat of the fully loaded stove. Only gibberish came out of his mouth and his hands trembled as if he was naked in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Do you mind if he turns around?” She asked after the awkward situation prolonged long enough to be pitiful.
“Granted.” M’Rael said and the rest of the Parliament nodded.
Ut’Van needed a few sips of Frostfire and even more deep breaths to muster enough liquid and actual courage to do as he had practiced. His first attempts suffered from poor control and minor mistakes but they were still a success.
With each spell that took form, his confidence grew until he managed to perform the rest to perfection.
When the members of the Parliament gave him a round of applause, he was so focused that the surprise made him yelp and turn around with a guilty look on his face as if he had been caught red-handed committing a crime.
“Marvelous!” Bal’Eza said. “But those are still tricks. Where’s the real magic? A real soldier needs to be able to fly and conjure fire and lightning.”