It took almost an hour for them to figure out all the intricacies of the new plan, but it was a good hour. Cale had forgotten what it felt like to blaze with this kind of energy, to work for possibility instead of destruction. Most of the ti, when he had to get involved, it was a destructive sort of thing. He would slay a dark lord, destroy a cage, blow up a ritual ant to sacrifice hundreds of innocents. His expertise was rarely required for an act of healing, and the victims of these sorts of spells could never really be saved.
Or, at least, they couldn't be when he worked alone. When he had friends and allies, things could be different, but he had allowed himself to forget because of how painful it could be to lose them again and again.
No more. Not this ti, anyway, and not as long as he was on Utelia. He wasn't going to forget Damien's words.
We don't have to do this.
Every one of his apprentices had taken to their new tasks with a fevered sort of determination, practicing to make sure they would be able to get it right when it counted. All except Damien, whose role was both most important and one that couldn't be practiced. He busied himself helping the others and coordinating with Kazza instead.
Damien still hadn't stopped shaking, Cale noticed. The dreadshade was doing his best to hide it, but he was terrified of failure. He could tell himself that it was trying that was important as many tis as he wanted, but his heart hadn't completely bought into it yet.
That was fine. It wasn't the sort of lesson Damien could learn in a single conversation, but Cale would be damned if he let it die because his very first try failed.
"Just rember," he told Damien. "Souls are part of a sort of cycle, too. They decay and then they return to the Great Realms. I'm living proof of it. Sort of."
"I'm... not sure you're a great example," Damien said, but he smiled weakly. Cale laughed.
"Yeah, I realized it as soon as I said it. It's true, though. I can't tell you exactly what happens to a soul after its host body dies, but believe , decay is relevant to it. The Verdant Fla will do what we need."
Damien didn't quite et his eyes. "I hope so," he said quietly. "I think that's the important part. The hoping."
"It is." Cale nudged his apprentice. "Thank you for reminding ."
Damien didn't reply to that, but the shaking lessened, at least a little. Then he took a deep breath and dove right back in, joining Flia and Syphus as the forr attempted to understand exactly how to imbue her Spark into her friends' magic.
Leo, in the anti, was busy studying the diagrams Cale had drawn out on the wall. His new labyrinth spell would be needed to guide the fortress in the right directions; they had decided they would be using it to carve the new ritual into the sand, writing right over the old one. The fortress moved fast enough that it was possible.
The only problem was that they needed to figure out an optimal path. They were still, after all, using a storm to draw a spell into the sand; there had to be room for error, and crossing over the sa lines risked widening them or deepening them too much, ssing up the array. It was especially important to be delicate around the more intricate intersections of the array.
As a result, the minotaur had his notebook out and was scribbling in it, muttering to himself and glaring intently between the diagrams and his notebook. Cale left him alone, but made a ntal note to reward Leo with points later. Or at least to ntion that he'd earned them.
He still wasn't actually keeping track of any points, though.
Kazza's job was arguably one of the most important. He stood by the window, using breath magic to speak with his clan and convince them to stay out of the way of the storm. Judging by the look of exasperation on his face, he wasn't having a great ti of it. Cale raised an eyebrow as he approached him.
Kazza sighed. "It was difficult to convince them to withdraw all hunting parties for a plan they see as a shot in the dark, but they are willing," he said without preamble. "The appearance of your fortress did a lot to convince them. Many believe it is a sign."
"That seems like good news," Cale noted. "Why do you look frustrated?"
"My clan is concerned that I have discarded my duty as emissary to play hero," Kazza said dryly. "A concern that might have substance, if not for the strength I have seen you wield."
Cale snorted. "I'm sure they'll be a lot less concerned once the Cascade is gone."
"Indeed." Kazza glanced back out of the window toward the magical storm still raging in the distance. "It is a strange position I find myself in, to pity the storm that slaughtered my people. I feel sha for believing that cursed tale of wild mages and weather magic, disgust that I failed to notice such a plaintive cry for help, and yet... the anger beneath remains at the lives this storm has taken."
"Better to direct that anger to the people that actually did this."
"As you say." Kazza nodded. "Though it is difficult to overturn that feeling imdiately when the storm still rages. I suspect I will feel differently if your spell succeeds."
"I guess we better succeed, then, huh?" Cale smiled faintly.
"You seem confident, for one who was certain destruction was the only option monts ago."
"When you've lived as long as I have, it's easy to forget so things. Even when they're important." Cale shrugged. "I try to keep so habits that help
rember, but there's a lot that slips through the cracks."
"You are far older than you appear," Kazza said. "I had wondered. Humans do not live that long, do they?"
Cale had no idea how to answer that question. Technically, his natural lifespan was... what, eighty or so years? But it varied from realm to realm, and he often died early for a multitude of reasons besides. Then there were the tis his lifespan was stretched out through the magic of friends and foe alike, resulting in lifetis spent in a single realm.
Was he a good example of humanity? He had no idea anymore. It wasn't like there was anyone else to compare with. Cale often assud that these default assumptions that others held about humans were true, but if they were, then they seed plucked out of a specific point in ti in human history. Many seed to look down on them by default.
He wondered briefly if that was intentional. It felt sotis like when others looked at him, they were forced to see soone who was "average" in every way. A "typical human
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