Paragon of Destruction

"Let’s go," Snowcloud said. "The others have set up a new camp, about an hour from here. While we walk, you can finally tell me what happened." She gave him a calm glance, then added, "It certainly took you long enough."

"You knew?" Arran asked, startled.

Snowcloud let out a weak laugh. "We’ve been training together for weeks. You think I failed to notice how your injuries healed in hours?" She shook her head. "Of course I knew something happened. I just didn’t know what."

"Why didn’t you say something before?"

"I trusted that you would tell me if it became necessary," Snowcloud replied flatly. "And it seems I was right."

It was not an answer Arran expected, and briefly, he found himself at a loss for words.

For years, he had anxiously guarded his secrets from all those he met, learning to always have lies at the ready for those questions he could not answer. But now, Snowcloud had simply said that she trusted him enough not to pry into his affairs.

He did not completely understand why she put such faith in him, but the show of trust left him feeling both glad and slightly uncomfortable.

"All right," he began after a moment. "When we entered the dungeon..."

As Snowcloud guided the way, Arran told her what had really happened at the fortress. There wasn’t much to tell — like Snowcloud, he had been unconscious for most of it — but what little he remembered was thoroughly unpleasant.

When he finished speaking, Snowcloud remained silent for a while, her brow knitted in thought as she considered his words.

"The creature," she said finally. "It said it had a debt to repay. What was it?"

Although Snowcloud’s show of trust had put him somewhat at ease, Arran did not want to tell her everything that had happened in the Empire. Not yet, at least. And even if he did, he suspected she would have trouble believing the events involving Panurge.

"Back in the Empire, I escaped from an Academy prison," he said after a moment’s thought. "When I did, I also set free the other prisoners. The creature was among them, although I didn’t know it was there until I opened its cell."

Snowcloud gave him an intent stare, and he knew she was wondering how he had ended up in an Academy prison. Yet she seemed to understand that he didn’t want to discuss the matter, and to his relief, she didn’t ask about it.

Finally, she let out a sigh. "You couldn’t have known about the creature," she said, although there was a hint of a question in the statement.

"I couldn’t, and didn’t," Arran replied. "If I’d know about that thing, I never would have freed it."

"Then you aren’t to blame for its actions," Snowcloud responded.

Arran felt some relief at her answer. He had worried that she would hold him responsible for the creature’s actions. Unwittingly or not, he was the one who had unleashed it upon the world.

"Do you know what happened to me?" he asked. "What caused the bloodlust?"

"Blood magic," Snowcloud answered immediately. "It has to be. The Blood Crystal in the fortress, it’s something I’ve heard about before, though never in detail. Supposedly, it gives great strength, but at a terrible cost."

"What kind of cost?" Arran asked worriedly.

Snowcloud took some moments in responding, and her expression turned troubled.

"I don’t know," she finally said, voice filled with doubt. "In the Society, I’ve only ever heard it talked about in whispered rumors. It’s supposed to be among the darkest kinds of magic, sacrificing lives to gain power. But other than that... I have no idea."

"So you don’t know how to control it, either," Arran said, holding back a sigh when he understood she wouldn’t be able to help him.

"I don’t," Snowcloud said, "but Stoneheart’s uncle might. He’s an Elder of the Sixth Valley, with centuries of experience across the border. Whatever the creature did to you, he will know what it is."

"But the Blood Magic..." Arran began. "When he finds out, won’t there be repercussions?"

Although he didn’t say it outright, he worried that if he was found to be involved in Blood Magic, whether by choice or not, he would be imprisoned — maybe even executed.

When the Academy discovered his forbidden Realm, it had set in motion a chain of events that had nearly cost him his life. And now, it seemed, he had stumbled upon yet another kind of forbidden magic.

Snowcloud resolutely shook her head. "It’s not your fault," she said. "And even if it was... the Dragon values strength above all else. If anything, he’ll view this as a gift, not a curse. Something to strengthen the Society."

Arran frowned at the answer, not entirely convinced. Yet for the moment, there were more pressing concerns. He had not forgotten that between them and Stoneheart’s uncle lay an entire army of Body Refiners.

"Either way, we’ll have to reach him first."

"I have some ideas about that," Snowcloud said. "But we’ll discuss that when we reach the camp."

They walked through the forest for the better part of an hour, Snowcloud guiding the way as they slowly advanced through the dense woods. Arran now understood that she had been to the camp already, and had returned to the valley only for his sake.

After some time, she suddenly stopped in her tracks and raised an arm. When Arran sent out his Shadowsight, he found a well-hidden figure in the brush, about a hundred paces ahead of them.

A moment later, the figure emerged from its hiding place, and Arran could now see that it was a young man. The man gave them a short wave, then promptly disappeared again.

"One of the scouts," Snowcloud explained. "The camp is just a bit further ahead."

They began to move forward again, and it wasn’t long before Arran could hear muffled voices in the distance. It seemed they had reached their destination.

When they reached the camp, Arran was relieved to see that this time, Stoneheart — or perhaps Snowcloud — had chosen a better location. Although it was not as well-hidden as the clearing in the valley had been, here, there were plenty of routes for escape should the need arise.

As they approached, Arran saw Stoneheart rise from a small group of recruits who were seated at the center of the camp. The tall novice raised his arm in greeting, then began to walk toward them, motioning for the recruits to remain where they were.

Stoneheart walked with a visible limp, and as they neared him, Arran could see that there were several bloody bandages on his body. Yet for all his wounds, his expression seemed cheerful.

"Good to see you both made it back," he said. He turned to Arran, then looked him over appraisingly. "You seem to be back to your old self."

"I’m sorry," Arran said, remembering how he had almost killed the man. "Something happened to me. I—"

"Nonsense," Stoneheart interrupted him. "You saved my life." He sighed, then added, "I just wish I’d recruited you back in Hillfort. Perhaps then, the battle against Amaya would’ve ended differently."

"There are more important things to discuss," Snowcloud cut in. "We need to leave, and soon. If this Lord of Bones you talked about has an entire army of Body Refiners, it won’t be long before they attack again."

At this, the cheerful look on Stoneheart’s face vanished. "I hope you have any ideas," he said. "With an entire army after us, I don’t see how we can escape."

"I do," Snowcloud replied curtly. "Now sit down and listen."

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