“New fae?” I hadn’t even really thought about it, and now that I did, I found it a worrying question. The fae often adopted vaguely human forms in front of us, but to them, it was no different than choosing the right tunic. Even ignoring the shapeshifting elent, imagining sothing like rcury helping to raise a child of any shape felt intensely wrong.
“You’re a smart one. Given the context of our discussion, where do you imagine new fae co from?” He looked at and took a seat in one of the comfy chairs, a clear sign, as any, that he wasn’t expecting to rush the answer.
Rather than settling into my own chair, I walked up to the chalkboard and began to take so notes. I knew a few things. This was about nas, my gaining of an ability normally limited to Steel, and the source of new fae being linked. The obvious thing to say was that the process of cultivators becoming Steel would sohow create fae. That, I put in a big circle in the middle of the board, but that wasn’t anything new. He had directly implied that. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for.
In notes here and there, I listed the other factors: nas and boons. I also listed a few other things that bubbled up from the frothing cauldron my mind had beco. Words like glamour, intent, and fae nature all sprung up.
As I kept making notes, I felt a creeping sense of dread worm its way down my spine. My toes dangled at the edge of black waters whose depths I could not guess. If I took a step, I might sink a mile—or get only my ankles wet. I was curious by nature, but as my mind worked through the puzzle and more notes joined the others on the board, I increasingly got the sense that I should pull back. That it was fine not to know.
But the water taunted , and I had to know. I pushed past the ntal block, and there on the chalkboard, in big letters, were two questions.
The first outlined the fae aspect of the world: ‘The fae cannot create anything new. So how can they create a life?’
This was the rule that defined fae. It was why I’d felt comfortable in my assessnt that we were entertainnt. The fae could only take and twist what they experienced.
The second question was in regard to cultivators, and it asked: ‘Why not progress?’
Cultivators risked death to progress. I’d seen it, at court. I’d seen the faces disappear, and in the void they left, there were only whispers about how they’d ‘been lost to the fae’. A common turn of phrase for those lost while out questing now took on a darker tone.
No matter this threat, it had always confused why so many were happy to keep grazing in Iron’s pasture despite the greener grass just beyond the fence of Steel. Cultivators took risks—they were no strangers to the threat of death. I’d assud there was so ingredient, an unspoken barrier like intent, that most failed to form. But now I asked myself, what if there was sothing worse than death they feared?
I had it all laid out in my mind. The dark water swirled beneath , waiting for to make that final leap.
“You have to ‘own’ your na to get to Steel, don’t you?” I asked, knowing the answer yet not wanting it to be true.
“Every Steel you’ll et in this world owns their na, that is true,” Pel answered, watching carefully. The high-backed chair and the fading light of the afternoon cast him in shadow.
“The Lady gave my na. What if she’d made fight for it?”
“Well, you’d not be here, that’s for certain. But you’re almost there.”
I stared at the black water and took the plunge. “If I’d failed to take my na, would I’ve ended up sothing like rcury?”
Pel clicked his tongue in annoyance, even as his stern face showed a hint of a smile settling on his lips. “To think they wasted you on perfu.”
“Hey, I happen to like perfu!” I retorted. The jest and complint had buoyed up for a mont, but the water dragged down, the dark waves closing over my head as the insane truth of it all crashed down upon .
The fae were turning cultivators into fae.
My head swam, and I floundered. My mind turned in on itself, examining everything I knew. Sothing deep within was twisted and painful, my hearth dimd and choked. No one trusted fae, but I’d always thought of them as distant—a force of nature I’d been unlucky enough to brush up against. It felt overwhelming, like I was being watched.
Smiling masks hiding hungry eyes.
Sothing changed, and I was dragged back into my soul, like when I was dead. Fear drowned , my hearth closing itself off to my gifts. I rejected those hooks they’d embedded in my soul. Cutting them off was foolish, yet I couldn’t stop myself. The gifts that had always been soothing and familiar were now jagged and eldritch.
My soul was in agony. My hearth ached like lungs robbed of breath for too long. Ignoring the pain, I refused to open my lips, to drink in the dark sea of glamour that surrounded . I was desperate. My hearth was dimming—it needed power.
From the ashes shall rise beautiful chaos.
My intent rose up, and from it ca my own power—not glamour but sothing I’d forged. The puff of power permitted my hearth a desperate breath. I grew calr. I felt the change.
My senses were numb. I beca distantly aware of Pel guiding to a seat. Sothing was pressed into my hands, and the cup was guided to my lips. I drank. It was a thick ad, cold and beautifully flavourso. The glamour on the ad was thick, and the sudden assault on my senses broke from my torpor. I spluttered, trying to reject the glamour, even as my body welcod it like an old friend.
The world snapped back into place. My hearth took a deep breath, and the glamour rushed in—but it didn’t swamp as I feared. No, it was as familiar and smooth as it had always been. Distantly, I was aware Pel had been speaking this entire ti. Words I barely heard, telling the glamour wouldn’t hurt . Reminding to pull on my intent. He fell silent as I settled.
I blinked warily, trying to work out what had just happened.
Pel watched carefully. He’d pulled his own seat right up to mine, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows creased with worry.
“I’m sorry. What you’ve just gone through is sothing all who aim for peak Iron and beyond have to endure. If not carefully managed, it can cause all sorts of damage. While it’s normally safer to let cultivators work through it on their own ti, I feared that with your mind, skills, and the way the fae buzz around you, you’d likely stumble across this truth at so random ti in your journey, far from support.”
“You couldn’t have eased in?” I croaked, fighting to open my lips, noticing for the first ti my mouth had been clamped shut so hard my teeth were grinding.
“I considered it, but the only ways I imagined it working felt too close to deceit. I believed that you’d prefer an uncomfortable shock to realising I’d conducted a slow deception. Besides, even a gentle introduction doesn’t guarantee a safer experience.”
I thought it over, pleased for the distraction. The new truth still lood large in my mind, but it felt infinitely more manageable than it had. To keep my mind off it, I t Pel’s gaze and asked what I’d have done in his place. After a few monts’ thought, I sighed. “I thank you for your respect. This is better. Not that I feel it now.”
“Do you wish to know more or prefer to rest?” He chuckled as I glared at him. How could anyone rest with this hanging over them? “You are right. Claiming your na is considered the great test. Whether you even wish to take it defines much of what it is to be peak Iron. It’s a complex process, but it boils down to the idea you have to step into the fae realm, speak your na, and then hold on to it no matter what cos to take it from you. What challenges you overco defines your boon and forges your aspect—the Steel expansion of your intent. That, though, is far beyond you now.”
I filed that knowledge away. The questions warred within . Personal ones bounced around, being added to constantly as fresh fears set in. I didn’t know what worried more—that I had sohow passed this great test, or that sothing different might now lurk in waiting. Those selfish fears were swallowed by a larger concern, one I needed to understand.
“So the fae are just waiting to snare us? And what—cultivators like you are the triumphant few who slip past?” I felt queasy. This was too huge. It painted so much in a different context. Things like Ban and Elaine’s hesitancy to advance until Lance’s position was secure now seed far more morbid. She could’ve lost one or both of her parents, only to later learn they’d been turned into fae.
Worst of all, it made it seem that the Divine Cultivators might have a point. Even considering that made my hearth shake.
“Yes and no. The true details are more complex. I need to begin with a bigger story. One that begins long ago.” Pel leaned back in his chair, his voice deep and warm. A good storytelling voice.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringent.
“Back then, there was next to no glamour in our world. Everyone was mortal, and we were little better than animals. It is said our art attracted the first fae, for they covet the new and the beautiful more than anything else. They liked our world, yet we were too slow—our creativity stymied by our starved realm. It could not serve as a place for them to create more of themselves. So, in exchange, they ‘offered us a challenge’. They empowered us, especially in our early steps, leaking their power into our world, and gave us the tools to use it. It is called the Grand Pact.”
“If that’s the case, aren’t we just fattening our world up for them?” I asked, the new fears still holding my thoughts tight.
“Nothing gets past you. That would indeed be the case if it was only glamour. I didn’t think to ask before now, but I assu with your na you can sense people’s aura—more so than as a force, I an?” Pel looked at , again casually outing my secrets. I’d feel more offended if he wasn’t offering up knowledge in exchange.
“Yes, or at least since I reached Iron I have. It’s like I can feel their personalities waging war.” I relaxed an inch, pleased to finally have an answer to that question. No one spoke about those sensations, no books wrote of them, and now I knew why.
“That makes sense. Aura is our power. It cos from our intent. It is human ‘magic’, if you will,” he said, using the na mortals used for our powers. “Keep that sense to yourself. It’s normally only Steel who gain it.”
“So we generate our own power?” That made sense to . The power of my intent had felt different. The power it offered wasn’t mine, but it belonged to in a way that glamour didn’t.
“Indeed, and it resonates with our world.” Pel used a flicker of power to pull a small hand mirror from a display case. It spun slowly, reflecting the room. “Glamour cos from the fae realm. It reflects our realm.”
A sword appeared in his hands, an artefact of such great power that I could taste the blade glamour. “So think that a blade creates blade glamour, but they’re wrong.”
The mirror stopped spinning and angled such that it reflected the sword. “The raw glamour they pump into our realm is reflecting the blade.” His spatial ring flared, and the sword and its reflection were gone.
“Yet even as you removed glamour from your hearth, there was sothing else to pull on?”
“My intent?” I paused, thinking on what I knew. Wood and Bronze could fight—even mortals could kill them—yet Iron, even at the earliest stages, was on a completely different level.
“We call the power it gathers Aura. The fae exist as a mirror of the realms they touch. The glamour that rolls into our world is diffuse, like mist. Our aura is like water, and as an alchemist, I’m sure you’re aware how much vapour is in each drop of water?”
“In fact, as a wielder of death glamour, you feel this most keenly. The ‘will’ that infuses death glamour is a weaker version of our aura. It is our magic overwhelming the glamour. The fact that even a mortal’s will is enough to impact the glamour should give you an idea of the power at play.”
That made sense and explained why more powerful cultivators’ death glamour was so saturated with ‘will’. Even in death, their aura was totally saturating the glamour.
“And what—they build us up and harvest us forever more?”
“No. Think back on my taphor of vapour and liquid. Our world was a barren desert into which they permit a misting breeze to flow. A respite that allows us to rise, to put down roots, and grow. And with every Iron rank cultivator who sprouts up, we create more drops of Aura.”
“Slowly turning the desert into an oasis?” I nodded.
“Indeed. These sacrifices, while overwhelming”—for a mont, Pel was misty-eyed, his voice brittle—“will one day see us fully replace glamour. The fae will retreat to be re watchers, observing the untold generations whose hearths will only know Aura.”
“A beautiful image. But how do we know this? I can picture it, but how can we be sure we’re not being deceived?” It seed both inevitable and yet unbelievable. The offering of the fae was equal parts cruel and benevolent, just as all their deals were. Yet, when it concerned the world, I couldn’t help but look for the trick.
“Remaining suspicious—I like it. Just the thing when you’re dealing with the fae.” Pel sighed. “It was sothing that only those at Mithril, or who aid for it, seed confident of. It was not until Zhang Jinghua that we had confirmation co to us.”
“The realm traveller from the Mystic East?”
“Yes. Her power was exclusively human. It’s why she shook the world. She was one Mithril—or Nascent Soul if we want to get picky—but her power was pure Aura. She called it Ki, and it was a little different to our Aura, but all could feel it. The unadulterated power of a realm just like ours. Her power cut through glamour like a knife through warm butter. Even those at Mithril, who wielded Aura and should’ve been her equal, bowed before her, unable to rival cultivation built on such incredible foundations.” He flicked his fingers at the wall and summoned a book. I noticed the title: The Spirits of the Mystic East and Their Eurossian Analogues: A Collection of Discussions with Lady Zhang Jinghua.
“This interesting book has part of the truth. In it, she ntions her realm is older than ours by an almost inconceivable scale. Yet even her people have legends, lost to the mists of ti, that stated long ago, cultivators of her world were reliant on boons from Spirits—great beings that taught them their martial arts and directed their earliest cultivators.”
He passed the book to , flipping it casually open to the right page. At first, it seed a Mithril thing, but I felt that the spine itself was bent, the page referenced often. I looked at Pel. How often had he had this conversation? Or was this a marker of a path blazed by countless others as they circled this hidden truth?
“If you wish for so sense of confidence, I recomnd reading this. It’s mostly about how to fight monsters but hints at enough. There’s plenty of other records. From everything we’ve been able to piece together, these were the fae—or other fae-like beings—and she and her world are the result of what happens when that contract reaches its end.”
“But how? How does my intent change this? It’s so much. I can’t imagine how it all works.”
“Don’t feel small. I’ll tell you what used to comfort when I first heard of this. Our power is becoming one with this world. Given enough ti, your friend Bors, whose aura speaks of unending stone, will make our mountains stronger. And one day, they will radiate their own aura.”
“Is knowing their intent so Mithril thing? I feel that can’t make you popular.” I quipped, and Pel laughed. He poured us both more of the pleasant ad and then settled back into his chair.
“I don’t know a person’s specific intent, but I can feel the shape of it. I feel that aura better than most. As will you—it’s part of your boon to see the truth of things. You’ll be less able to hide yours, just to warn you.” He scowled. “You’re right. It’s not sothing that makes you popular. Another reason to keep this skill hidden.”
A thought struck . “What do you imagine my aura might do?”
“Yours? Well, I don’t know.” He gave a long look. “Yours is different. I can tell at a glance if most are a witch or a knight, and yours is like neither. Knights are conquerors. You can feel their aura demanding you and the world bend to their will. A witch’s aura demands to understand the world. Before it, you might feel small or unsettled as they open you up and pull you apart.”
“Yours is rare. I feel like I’m watching a wonderful maelstrom springing from ruin. I don’t know if it ans weal or woe, but if it makes a demand of , then it is for my attention.” He smiled at . “It is a pleasant sensation.”
Silence descended again. I felt like I’d found the bottom of the water I’d stepped into when this had all begun. I drank more of my drink, letting the smooth glamour soothe . The ad clearly had so power, as my mind was calming.
My head was still a ss of questions, but for once, I could see that I should pause. I needed to digest what I already knew first. Looking around, I worked out my next question.
“I assu I’m not to tell anyone about this?” I gestured to the chalkboard, which had at so point been cleaned, my notes erased.
“You’ll find you can’t. It’s part of the Grand Pact. You can at most do what I did and provide a small hint.” He looked over and sighed. “I’ve done my best to avoid giving you any orders, so instead let strongly recomnd you leave hints to us with more experience in this. Your reaction was mild compared to so. It has even resulted in deviation for a few unlucky ones.”
I winced. My hearth still hurt from the revelation. My experience was painful, but nothing compared to what I’d heard of deviation. A situation where so knowledge or experience shattered the foundations of one’s cultivation, leaving them broken—their hearth cracked or worse, sundered. The recovery ti from such conditions was usually asured in decades.
I nodded. The threat and limitations of that made keeping the secret easier on my conscience.
“Why tell all this now? I get you didn’t want heading off, but it’s a lot for a random afternoon,” I asked, watching Pel as he took a long pull from his tankard, his eyes wrinkling as a big smile spread across his face.
“You are restless, yes? The war leaves you unsure of your next steps. You’ve been defined by revenge and imdiate challenges for so long, but now you don’t know what to do next? You feel you have an obligation but are scared of asking your new friends and adding to their burdens?” His words nailed to the spot, piercing right to the heart of . Exposed and vulnerable, I felt myself snarl.
“And you drop all of this on !” Even with the ad calming , I was a ss of emotions. The anger that had swelled up burst the instant I heard my voice. Sadness, exhaustion, fear, and rage swirled within , but none of it was Pel’s fault.
“I’m sorry,” I said before he could reply. “I admit it’s good to know about my aura and boon, but how did you know I felt like this? How do you know what I’m thinking? Is it a Mithril thing, or the boon, or so other unthinkable secret?”
“Sothing far more mundane, yet infinitely more special.” He sighed and grinned. “You are exactly like your mother. You walk when you are troubled, you pick up things but can’t ever seem to complete what you start, and you don’t bother those who you fear have their own worries.”
“That’s…” I flicked over my mories and found it to be true. I rembered how my mother would pace around our tiny hovel when we hid as mortals, the spread of half-complete projects that grew whenever she was stressed. And how, even when she got sick, she would never ask for help, only ever reaching out if she felt I needed sothing.
I felt tears prickle in my eyes. “Are we truly so similar?”
“Delightfully so.” He stood, and I felt our conversation pulling to a close. There was a hint of that sa lancholy I’d seen last ti, but his smile was warr, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief.
“Thanks. You’ve given much to think on.” I stood as well, letting my head bow to him. He waved off.
“You should go see Sephy in the library. She’s been staring at the sa page since our talk began.” He grinned as my face went neutral, not risking giving him any sign that his teasing had an impact. “While I really don’t want to be pulled into young love, I feel that I’d be failing you if I didn’t explain that sotis you have to be brave enough to hang around the people you care about, even if they don’t seem to want you there. There are tis when they just need an excuse for the break they desperately need. There are also tis when they need to be alone and will yell at you to get lost, throw sothing at you, or both.”
“How do I know which one it will be?” I frowned, following him out of the study.
“There’s a trick to that.” He grinned as we started down the stairs.
“Which is?” I nudged him after a mont of silence. I could see his smile getting larger.
“You don’t! You just accept the outco no matter what.” He laughed as I scowled. “Also, I recomnd working out what to dodge and what to catch. If they throw sothing important at you and it breaks, it will sohow be your fault.”
I decided to take his advice and not to ask who was throwing things at the Mithril-level cultivator. I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.
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