Paragon of Destruction

"It’s settled then." There was a happy smile on Brightblade’s face as she spoke. "For the next year, you’ll spend two days each week studying Forms. And when you become a novice, you’ll seek out the battlefield where Elder Nikias died and recover his lost treasures."

Arran eyed his teacher suspiciously. "Just like that?"

He was glad that she agreed to his plans, but the whole thing seemed entirely too easy. She had listened attentively when he told her about the day’s events, but she hadn’t shown even the least bit of surprise. It was almost as if...

"You knew!" Arran exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. "This whole thing... You planned it!"

"I did no such thing," Brightblade replied calmly. "I may have heard a story or two about Elder Nikias’s legendary methods, but I certainly did not encourage you to seek out that girl. That you visited the House of Flames when she was scouting initiates was a simple matter of good fortune — though, truth be told, she is rather predictable."

Arran gave her a baffled look. It was abundantly clear that she somehow had set up the entire thing, making sure that he would meet Anthea. Yet now, she tried to pretend otherwise, albeit halfheartedly.

"Furthermore," Brightblade continued, "that you insist on having her as your teacher is no fault of mine. Your choice to ignore my warnings is unfortunate, but there is nothing I can do about it — you’re a grown man, after all."

"Warnings?" Arran frowned. She had given him no warnings whatsoever. "What warnings?"

Brightblade shrugged. "That you risk wasting a year of training, that you’ll learn a useless method, that you might die trying to find the Elder’s lost writings — that, and whatever else Snowcloud might blame on me."

Finally, Arran began to understand the situation. "She knows about the Forms?"

"She spent a year studying in the Ninth Valley," Brightblade said. "Naturally, she heard about its legends. And she knows you well enough to understand that you would be drawn to this one like a moth to a flame." She scowled, then added, "Which is why she made me vow to keep you from pursuing it."

"Then why would you encourage me?" Arran raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.

"I’m not encouraging you," she replied. "But if I did, it would be because she’s wrong. The chance of success, small though it is, easily outweighs the risks. The Forms hold tremendous potential, and not to pursue so grand a prize would be folly."

At these words, Arran sat up in attention. "What kind of potential?"

While he saw plenty of promise in the Forms, he could hardly be considered an expert on magic. Brightblade’s opinion, on the other hand, would reflect centuries of knowledge. Whatever she saw would be worth knowing.

"The idea of combining insights into spells is nothing new," she began. "Every mage who advances far enough eventually tries it. Even I have spent several years developing a similar method."

To illustrate her point, she formed a spell in her hand — a tiny sword of fire, barely the size of a finger and made from a negligible shred of Essence. Yet when she shot it at the ground, it left a large black scar in the otherwise immaculate grass, half a dozen paces long and several feet deep.

Arran looked on in awe. He had Sensed that she’d used only a minute sliver of Essence — too little to even leave a mark on the grass, had he been the one wielding it. "You did that using insights?"

Brightblade nodded. "The problem, as you undoubtedly noticed, is that the method is too slow to be useful in battle." A twinkle of excitement formed in her eyes as she continued, "Yet this Elder Nikias somehow found a way to remedy that."

"The power..." Arran cast a glance at the deep scar her spell had left in the grass. "You barely used any Essence, yet the spell was already so strong."

"Spells imbued with insights are far stronger than those without it," Brightblade confirmed. "You can imbue normal spells with insights as well, of course, but doing so is far more difficult, and the results aren’t anywhere near as impressive."

Arran furrowed his brow. When Anthea had shown him the Forms, the spells she created were embarrassingly weak. But now, he understood that Forms cast with the proper insights could surpass normal spells. And unlike Anthea, he already had a true insight.

"I had another thought," he said. "From what Anthea told me, Elder Nikias’s students progressed far more quickly than others. But if the Forms are built on insights... could it be that Elder Nikias’s methods helped them develop insights, as well?"

Brightblade smiled. "That’s my suspicion — and my hope. If it’s true, you would help not just yourself by recovering the Elder’s writings, but Snowcloud and myself as well. And in time, you might transform the entire Shadowflame Society."

At this, Arran’s expression grew serious. "Then I’ll do all I can to succeed."

"Indeed you will," Brightblade replied. "And your first step should be to strengthen your resistance to magic. For that, you must use the Patriarch’s amulet every day. When we travel to the hidden estate, you can use that other Realm of yours."

She did not name his Destruction Realm outright. Even if she had warded their mansion at the House of Swords from prying eyes and ears, that was a secret she still guarded cautiously.

"I’ll get to work right away, then." A year seemed like a long time, but Arran had little doubt that the battlefield would test his limits. After all, if it wasn’t exceptionally dangerous, the Ninth Valley’s mages would have searched every inch of it long ago.

Brightblade nodded in approval. "You should. Tomorrow, you’ll spend another day in the House of Flames. After that, you’ll see the other two Houses — first the House of Shadows, then the House of Seals. Take care to study their teachings well. Your offensive spells won’t progress much this coming year, so whatever else you can learn will be even more important."

"I understand," Arran said, producing the Patriarch’s amulet from his void ring. Yet before he could begin using it, Brightblade interrupted him.

"One last thing," she said. "Have the House of Flames girl instruct you in the Shadowflame spell. It wouldn’t do to ignore your offensive magic entirely, even if your main focus is on learning these Forms."

Arran responded with a short nod, then set to work with the Patriarch’s amulet, spending several hours circulating its violent energies through his body.

The next day, Anthea reacted with excitement at the news that he would continue his studies with her. Although she seemed slightly disappointed that he would only study with her for two days a week, her joy at gaining a student easily outweighed it.

In the span of a day, he learned a dozen new Forms — the target he had failed to reach the day before. Many of those resembled the ones he already knew, and with each new one he learned, his progress was a little faster.

This time, there was no combining the Forms. Anthea insisted his first step should be to learn all the Forms she knew, and there were well over a hundred of those — enough to keep him occupied for several weeks, if not more.

Arran did not complain about this. While he was eager to see what combinations he could make, anything he created would be embarrassingly weak and slow. And he knew that wouldn’t change until he recovered the writings of Elder Nikias.

It was late afternoon when they finished the day’s work on the Forms, and after that, Anthea spent several more hours instructing Arran in normal spells.

He quickly found that the Shadowflame spell was still far beyond him, but Anthea did her best to teach him its foundation nonetheless. The lesson lasted until an hour after nightfall, with the adept insisting that Arran also practice his other spells.

Focused though she was on Forms, Anthea seemed to have no intention of ignoring the rest of his education altogether. As she told it, improving his skill at magic would also aid him in understanding the Forms.

During the lesson, Arran quickly learned that his teacher was exceptionally skilled. He had believed her obsession with Forms would have prevented her from matching others in conventional magic, but the opposite proved to be the case. She was as skilled as any adept he’d ever seen, if not more so.

He was pleasantly surprised to discover this, but at the same time, it left him wondering why she cared so much about having him as a student.

She did not know about his plan to recover Elder Nikias’s writings, and other than that, he could not imagine being able to provide her with much help in her studies. The gap between them was simply too large for that.

Finally, no longer able to contain his curiosity, he asked, "With your skill in magic, what use do you have for me? I thought you’d be an average mage, but..." He hesitated as he glanced at her, then continued, "With someone like you working on the Forms, what can I add?"

Anthea smiled. "Two pairs of eyes see more than one. Even if you’re not skilled just yet, just having someone else experience the Forms provides another perspective." She glanced at the ground, and when she looked up again, her smile had faded. "Of course, that’s not the only reason. There’s another matter I have to consider."

"What is it?" Arran asked.

"If something happens to me, the Forms will be gone forever," she said. "With the Elder’s death, most of his knowledge was lost. And when my teacher disappeared, much of what still remained vanished with her. If I die..."

Arran listened silently. While Anthea’s dedication in preserving this knowledge was alien to him — he had only ever cared about keeping himself and his friends alive — he could not help but feel a newfound respect for her.

She clenched her jaw, then continued, "I’m the last person preventing the Forms from fading into history, and it’s on me to ensure that doesn’t happen. Knowledge like this cannot be allowed to disappear."

There was no need for her to explain the situation any further. Arran now understood her motivation — not just in taking him as a student, but also in continuing her study of the Forms despite the lack of results.

It was a great sacrifice, he realized. If she’d used her efforts to study normal magic, she’d doubtless be far stronger than she already was. With her talent, she could likely already have become a Master.

It was late in the evening when Arran returned to the House of Swords, and inspired by Anthea’s passion for her studies, he spent much of the way back practicing the Forms he had learned — though, to avoid drawing attention, he used Shadow Essence rather than any of the other kinds. This made the Forms invisible to others, while also preventing him from doing any damage to his surroundings.

Back at the mansion, he found Brightblade sitting in the gardens, as usual holding a glass of wine in her hand and some ancient book in her lap.

"I assume everything went well today?" she asked when she noticed Arran approach.

He nodded in response. "Anthea is more skilled than I expected — not just at Forms, but at magic in general."

"She was one of the greatest talents of her generation," Brightblade replied. "Until she began to study the Forms, at least. But enough about that. Spend a few hours using the Patriarch’s amulet, then get some sleep."

She took out a small badge, then tossed it to Arran. "Your training with the House of Shadows starts tomorrow."

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