Taitenschild

5-2 || Prices Paid (Part II)

Regis sighed and massaged his forehead as he sat on the floor beside Eliah in the washing area of their hut. The girl hadn't so much as stirred since she'd fainted at the arena. The rise and fall of her chest was shallow and laboured, and a sheen of sweat blanketed her pale, clammy skin. The glowing metal embedded in her flesh continued to burn brightly, exuding waves of unbearable heat and he was at a loss as to how to deal with it.

First, he tried stripping the girl down to her smallclothes and blanketing her in water-soaked linen. All he'd gotten in return was a heap of charred cloth and blinding clouds of steam.

After that, he'd carried her into the wash area, dumped a bucket of water on her, then gone to a nearby creek to fill up several more and repeated.

It hadn't helped, and there wasn't much more he could do. Like any other true-blue Seren, Regis couldn't even sense magic, let alone treat someone who had overexerted themselves using it. That was Hal's territory, not his. So until Ove and the Tyrants finished interrogating the menial, there was nothing Regis could do but wait.

He looked down at Eliah and sighed once more. It was these kinds of situations that made him question whether he was fit to raise the girl or not. 'I bet your real da would know what to do in this situation,' he muttered. He had no doubt that Taiten would have some choice words for him if they were ever to meet. Thankfully, that event would never come to pass.

He started as the sudden rap of a fist on wood echoed from the other side of the wash area's screen.

'Regis?' called Hal's voice. 'Is Eliah there?'

Regis grimaced. He hadn't even heard the menial walk up to the hut. That just went to show how preoccupied he'd been. Stroking the girl's sweating forehead once more, he stood up to let the menial in.

He pushed the fur hangings aside and smiled when he saw Hal waiting patiently outside. 'You're here early. I was under the impression that you'd be tied up for the rest of the night explaining things to Ove and the – ' He paused as he caught sight of Ylva standing in the doorway. ' – Tyrants.'

Suspicion flickered across Regis's face as he glanced back down at Hal.

Hal sighed. 'Don't worry, she just wants to talk. But we'll deal with Eliah's condition first.' Ducking under Regis's frozen arm, he looked back at the Tyrant. 'If I need your help, I'll yell.'

Ylva simply nodded.

'And how, exactly, would she be of help?' asked Regis, brow furrowing as he turned to follow the menial's movements with his head.

But Hal said nothing further. Kneeling down beside Eliah, he raised the index and middle finger of his right hand to eye level, closed his eyes and murmured something unintelligible. Two balls of silver light flickered to life. They spun through the air to form a small circle within a circle, then joined together and blossomed outwards in a series of swirls and letters.

Flattening his palm, Hal lowered the rune circle onto Eliah's chest. It vanished in a flash of bright blue. The girl whimpered in her sleep, the metal in her skin glowing even brighter than before.

Hal stared, dumbfounded. He'd worked with aeonite for decades – it fuelled the spells worked into the Gate, the arena, and the Cages. He'd never seen it act like this.

Raw, unworked aeonite, like the dust that glimmered all across the mountain, absorbed latent energy – aether, from the earth, the air, and from those who happened to exude it in the form of magic. A mage or a menial could hasten the process by consciously transferring their own aether into the crystals. And by working or forging it into metal, the amount of energy the aeonite could absorb and store increased exponentially.