Chapter 555: A Meeting Of Gales

Being "escorted" through the halls of the Academy by a Mage Hunter, whom she suspected of being the Shockstep Archon, was humiliating enough for Arc. It took too little time for her to be marched up the stairs and brought to the Chancellor’s office, but also too much time in that she saw a very, very thick thread leading from her to whoever was on the other side of the door. Thick enough that the thread that felt like Chancellor Imogen got lost behind it with every shift. Almost like one of them was pacing.

As she and Owyn were made to sit, the latter finally showing some symptoms of blood loss with how pale he was getting, Arc lost all interest in reprimanding Owyn in favor of wondering just what kind of trouble he’d gotten her into.

When the Mage Hunter quietly entered the office, quickly enough that she couldn’t catch a glimpse of the interior, Arc decided to try something with her magic. Thus far, her experiments had proved she couldn’t move the threads directly, but last night with a bit of sand and a glass cup, she tried repeating the same test that had managed to move a bit of sand without a hint of mana.

What she’d discovered was that there was some sort of physical interaction if she stared long enough for threads to form and attach themselves to individual particles, but moving them wasn’t so much a matter of direct thought as creating a path for the threads to fall into. Once she had that figured out, she’d managed to experiment with lifting and dropping individual grains and, strangely, she recognized them even after turning and shaking the sand. She’d established a few effects, but she didn’t know the cause.

But one thing she was certain about, which Owyn’s painful little escapade had proved this morning, was that when she concentrated on the threads themselves, she could access some information even through all the soundproofing and shielding that had been placed on her room.

She’d heard Owyn’s sounds of pain and panic before stepping in to stop him from hurting himself further. Not in a sense of sound necessarily, but a confused meaning, one that carried with it a strange mix of fear, anxiety, and... musicality. The last had confused her the most, but she’d had enough time to see that he’d been writing down something before she entered the room.

Now, as she tried to repeat the same trick, she found herself sort of drifting the string from the middle of her chest, the physical point that corresponded to most people’s mana gates, and up to her head as she tried to imagine a space for it around her ears, almost like a headwrap.

I wonder if...

"... won’t let you pin this on me, Imogen. I swore to protect this city, not rule it." Arc’s Father said, his tone grave.

"If he displaces me on the Council-"

"Then it will be because the people put him there," the voice carried with it an undertone of anger that masked a deep, wrathful despair. "You aren’t to blame for what happened with the dungeon, but... was keeping me out of the fight worth it?"

"I know what you mean; even you can’t be in two places at once. It was my call. I thought the citizens would see they could defend themselves... and they did, all things considered, but..." There was a long pause. "If your investigation gets us what we need, then it will go a long way to making the losses worthwhile. So I just... want to reaffirm that I understand."

"Thank you, Imogen."

The Mage Hunter cleared his throat.

"Yes, Ovten?" Chancellor Imogen asked, confirming Arc’s suspicion that it was Ovten Rusk who had intercepted her and Owyn.

"The Outsider injured himself somehow. I thought you should know-"

"It isn’t even nine o’clock!" Arc could hear Imogen toss something onto her desk. "I take it he’s not dead?"

Not even nine o’clock and already he’s meddling around. Was he here because of her? She doubted it. Why would he think about the family runt? It wasn’t like she wanted him to visit. If he didn’t know about how her magic had advanced, then she’d be all the better for figuring it out without him.

"Not yet. But it was pretty bloody. Your daughter tried to break into the nurse’s office to get him treated. Figured you’d both want to know, before the alarm report comes in."

Arc could feel her Father thinking by the shift in his emotions from that dark mix to something warmer. It almost felt like... pride.

"I’ll take care of it, I’ve got Kordia to walk me through what he needs." Arc’s Father said. "Thank you, Ovten."

"Do try to scare them into behaving at least a little," Imogen said. "Ovten, go talk to our Knight friend about the alarm."

"Yes, Chancellor," the orc replied.

What happened next was strange, as Arc saw and heard the door open, her father’s clawed feet echoing as she heard them from her ears and his.

And she didn’t know how to stop it.

Her father stepped up to Owyn as Ovten slipped out behind him, closing the doors on the way out.

"Let me see your arms," he said softly but firmly. It was so disorienting to hear him while hearing him hear himself that it was all Arc could do to try to keep her face neutral. "Kordia."

she heard him send out not just the name but the impression of the situation through another thread, one that carried far off in the distance.

"I see it... Wait, someone else-"

"I know," Father thought as he looked at Arc. "Treatment, please."

Just like that, the connection loosened and Arc could no longer hear the conversation. She watched the thread connecting her to her father unspool and straighten, before she felt the thread... harden. Its appearance did not change at all, but got the impression that if she tried to shift the thread again, it wouldn’t let her. At the same time, she could no longer sense any of the threads leading into her Father from other sources. He was closed to her.

To Owyn, he spoke as he started to pass his hands over the wounds, sending precise healing into each cut, "We have not formally met. I’m Arc’s father."

Owyn gulped. "You’re, uh. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Gale," he stared up at Father’s impassive, shifting-rainbow eyes.

"You’ve worsened your condition," Father said. "If I had infinite mana, I’d suggest destroying all the affected tissues, which is most of your body now, and replacing them. But the throughput needed to keep you alive during that process is more than I could normally command, and I’ve only managed it once..."

Wait, Father ripped someone apart and put them back together? His words seemed to have Imogen’s desired effect of making Owyn blanch whiter, if the healing pains weren’t doing it already.

"You should make your decision soon," Father said as he finished up, even cleaning the sheets and folding them with just magic.

What decision? Arc rapidly filled with worry about the true extent of Owyn’s condition.

Before she could ask, Father gestured for them to stand. "Arc, I’m glad to see you’re experimenting with your magic more, but please don’t try that again unless you’re certain you want someone in your head, too." He tapped his temple with a knowing look.

Anger snapped her into focus. "You knew," Arc growled her accusation. "You knew I could do something like this and didn’t tell me! You- you could have been helping me!" she shrieked. He looked hurt. Good. She wanted to see that she could hurt him. "Instead, you had everyone holding me back because you failed Atikka!"

Memories sparked. Fires in the night. Flowing metal and blood. Tears. No, those were happening now. They ran down Arc’s cheeks.

The look in her Father’s eyes didn’t change at all. Regret and sadness. "I did what I could for you."

"What did you ever do for me?!" It wasn’t a fair question, and she knew it. She’d lived a good life, even if she had burdened herself with the anxiety of not measuring up. But right now, all she felt was an unrelenting deluge of pain and anger that overflowed from somewhere dark and unknown inside her.

"One day you’ll know," he whispered, his voice sad and heavy. "And when you do... I pray you won’t hate me for it." He shifted, and for a moment, Arc dreaded that he was going to hug her or cry or both. But he made no move to embrace her, and she thanked the stars because if he had, she would have broken down right then and there.

The thread connecting them felt full of pressure. But even though she couldn’t feel his intent, she felt, for just a moment, that he hated himself more than she ever could, with a weight behind it that she couldn’t begin to imagine...

So instead, Arc turned and ran.

She ran through the school, ignoring everyone in the halls until she found herself in an empty chamber, one of the school’s dance halls, with a high ceiling and magic chandeliers that sparkled to life the moment she entered. It was a pretty room, but all of its beauty was lost on her as she let herself collapse near the center of the room. There she curled up and cried until she felt the approach of some almost-familiar thread from behind her.

The moment she heard the door click open, Arc shouted, "Go away!" and kept her back to whoever it was. She was not in the mood to be coddled. Only, a split second later, she realized that the intent she felt was far from anything seeking to comfort her.

Whoever it was intended for her to die.

A moment later, the chain holding the chandelier directly above Arc snapped.