Roots and Boughs, that girl needs help. I wish I had the free time but… I doubt if she would really appreciate my doting on her any more than I already do. Still though, maybe if I can get her to agree to me helping unpack some of her past…

  No matter. I'll just keep in better contact with her moving forward. I can afford to take detours every now and again.

  I turn back to my current charge as Nyssa disappears out the distant town gate moving at a gentle jog.

  The day passes with no fanfare. I just spend the time moving building to building looking for survivors or other pertinent information, but it becomes abundantly clear that there's either nothing of note, or I simply am out of my element in sifting through the aftermath of one of these events.

  As such, I make my way back to my little impromptu base and medical facility to check on the boy.

  The gray-haired Lupin boy, Rykar, is stable now thanks to Nyssa's good instincts. He's mostly just been sleeping inbetween my bits of tending to him.

  "How are you feeling?" I ply the surface of the boys thoughts, sending tendrils of my own consciousness skimming across them carefully. My own voice sounds hollow, free of inflection, in this method of communication and it always leaves me slightly uncomfortable with speaking.

  But when he responds, he sounds how he would imagine his own voice sounding. Warm, happy, buoyant. "It all hurts, but less than before. Is she okay?" The question informs me that I was broadcasting my thoughts over the connection accidentally. I need to police myself better, lest I think something that will unsettle him.

  "In time she will be. Being of the Vigil, her background is an open wound that she uses to do her job. Someday she will slow down to let it heal. But she is surrounded by people who will help when she needs it. You needn't worry." I pause, remembering, "I know that doing anything right now sucks pretty bad, but in time you'll need to open your eyes and move around. I feel that I should prepare you as best I can for what you will witness."

  After he agrees, I spend the next hour very carefully sending over sensations, glimpses of the town and its current state in small, but ever-widening lenses, and the emotions I've been feeling as I move around the town. He'll experience the thoughts as his own in an indirect, hazy sort of way. Like receiving an emotional vaccine.

  It's where my unique talents lie. Cognitio magi aren't common, but most are focused on internal enhancements. Making deductions, accelerating thought, increasing general acuity.

  My abilities lie exclusively in the external. I'm a reader, by common parlance. Though that paints only half of the image of my abilities. Most people know readers as magi who can skim thoughts to a greater or lesser extent when someone lets their guard down.

  Which is true. It's an all-but useless talent in a world where even unconscious, passive, defenses can thwart a specialty. Someone actively defending against even someone as powerful and experienced as me at the art will normally render most attempts moot.

  But I have practiced especially into the implantation of thoughts. I still struggle to get past the natural essential defenses of most kyn, but it affords me the leeway to force open tiny openings. I batter down the gates of those I interact with by finding small weaknesses in those defenses, and weakening them with positive thoughts. A charming smile and a wink wins me an opening that I can fill with thoughts of trust and welcome, which naturally lowers someone's resistance in two ways.

  One: Any active resistance is enough to stop what I do. Thus I put people into the mindset of never wanting to resist. Two: Once I'm beyond those defenses, I can find other chinks in the armor. Uncertainties, worries, concerns, desires, joys, and loves.

  Both of these facets empower my other talents — nonmagical ones of personality, wit, and charm.

  My abilities could never make someone do something they didn't already want to do. No essence would allow the kyn of the world to do such things. But if someone decides they fancy me, then I can push those buttons readily. Or if they have a deep insecurity, I can salve or worsen it, whichever suits my purposes.

  It's a fantastic skillset for an infiltrator, as I.

  But as Nyssa often experiences — it's something I do naturally by existing. Even when actively restraining myself, I have to remain cognizant of the fact that I may be passively piercing the defenses of others around me and driving them towards positive thoughts about me. That I might be subconsciously identifying their emotional weakpoints and abusing them — even when trying to help.

  It's a terrible skillset for anyone other than infiltrator, as I.

  So, I remain an infiltrator. A profession that is, by necessity, a lonesome one.

  Better that than exposing others to my whims.

  —

  "So, it was a calamity, and my home is gone." The boy asks across the link while I tend to the next batch of a curative for him. I need to steadily bring his essence levels back to normal, but doing so is an imprecise science — especially in an area suffering as much aetheric damage as the one we're in.

  The mortal body would normally draw what it needs from the air alongside its food. Bleeding out what it doesn't need over time. But in this area so devoid of essence that he and I both are actively bleeding our natural essence into the air — since it will always move from points of high concentration to points of low concentration. And it doesn't do it at a predictable rate, or prefer any given essence over another.

  Thus, as I feed these essence-rich foods to him, I have to be careful not to overdo any particular essence.

  "Yes, and yes."

  "Which means my big brother is gone." His internal voice shifted over the last while as I worked to brace him for what he would see. It softened from joy at being rescued by someone he considered a hero and being taken in by someone he trusts. The gravity of everything settled in over time. And it's a wound he'll carry for the rest of his life. "Is it true what they say about the Vigil? They are all people who survived these things?"

  "Yes, that is the case. Mostly. Some people go to the Vigil themselves, wishing to help their cause, but the majority are survivors."

  "That's the wound you said Nyssa has, isn't it?"

  "You're very perceptive; yes that is the case. There There's many reasons people take the cause of the Vigil, but suffice to say, there's a reason they're lauded as the heroes they are. But, nobody has to go that route. They have the resources to help people, but they aren't the only ones. I will see to it that you are taken care of the best way we can. Sovereign and the Mother as my witness, I make you this promise, Ryker."

  "That would be nice. What happened to the monster? I saw it before the Speaker took me to where she found me." The image, burned into his memory, comes unbidden, even if it's hazy and uncertain. Glimpses of a monster akin to what I would expect. Tall, fairly lanky, with a hunched posture. Very kyn-like in shape, as would be expected for something feeding on a town. But…Nyssa said that the beast she fought was exceptional in some way. This image seems normal as far as these beasts go.

  It could well be that Rykar is filling in blanks in his mind with common depictions, but the clarity of the recollection makes me think otherwise. I'm not going to pry though — it would require that I have him hold the image in his mind with as much clarity as possible, and that would be traumatizing and cruel.

  "My understanding is that it got away, but the best of the best in the Vigil are working to correct that. It will be brought down. I know everyone involved personally, and would trust them with my life and the lives of everyone I know. The monsters never return to locations they've harmed, so you needn't worry here." His mind softens a bit, where it had been tensing up thinking about the monster, my assurance, and my confidence carried with it sees him relax.

  As I finish speaking, I feel a chill run down my spine. I sense the outer fringes of a powerful essential presence coming our way.

  "I have to break this link. I will be back, stay still and quiet." I force the thought into his mind, trying to send it through as much in the tone of his own thoughts as my own. Impressing upon him the importance while likely making him think the thought was his own, since his own safety will be well along the lines of normal thinking for him and since his defenses are already open to me entirely.

  From there, I reach into my carryall and pull out a thin metal sheet blanket covered in runes with small Sensus crystals woven into it. I pulse a mote of essence into it to engage its processes, and spread it over the boy and my equipment. It takes but a second, but he is rendered invisible beneath the blanket. Essence is suppressed, and sight is entirely blocked. It's an absolute must-have for people like me who travel alone a lot and aren't necessarily combat-oriented.

  The boy as protected as I can make him, I silently unsheathe my sword — a simple straight longsword, weighted for dueling and fighting other kyn — an abnormal trait on average outside of fighting pits as most weapons are made exclusively for dealing with monsters. and reach across with my other hand to engage the essence barrier from my buckler.

  From it emits a shimmering circle of essence about three feet across. It's best for protecting from essence-based attacks, functionally weightless, and lets me keep my other hand free and unencumbered.

  I stalk outwards, drawing Cognitio from deep within me to spread out like an ever-growing web of awareness. Most of my spells aren't useful for a fight, but are excellent for information gathering.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  It pays off, too, as I make my way towards the entrance that Nyssa and I entered from last night. I feel a presence, a monumentally powerful one, entering the gates, and when I touch the mind, it's like fifty people try to shout at me all at once and I physically recoil, dropping my sword to the ground with a sharp clatter and grabbing at my head as a spike of pain radiates through my brain and down my spine.

  It's the worst pain I think I've felt in a long time and it gets worse. It's blinding, making my every sense feel like white noise is flooding them. It's impossible to even think as it wracks me. It takes every ounce of wherewithal I have to dispel my ongoing effects and restrain my magic.

  Whatever did that is surely aware of me now. It was too specific of a type of defense against what I do to not have alerted whatever it is.

  As my vision clears and the pain subsides, I force more essence into my buckler. Everything I might reserve for spellcasting for a fight redirected to protecting against a more direct attack, as anything with the power to do that is nothing I want to eat a direct spell attack from.

  I fish down and pick up my sword and press against the nearest wall and wait. The pressure is getting closer down the main road, and I'd rather get the jump on it rather than visa-versa.

  I wait.

  And it continues creeping along, clearly on high alert, but when it's close enough, I draw in a sharp breath and round the corner, raising my essence buckler in preparation.

  And thank the Watcher, Traveller and Rootmother all that I did, instead of leading with my blade.

  My buckler is struck with one of the most powerful rays of essence I've ever felt. I only see the gleaming streak for the briefest moment before it strikes my projected barrier and utterly obliterates it and the buckler beneath.

  I loose the most crude curse I know as I recoil back around the corner as the emitters on my buckler spark and crackle. "Fuck!" I can't see any damn thing. The flash that came from the two forces interacting was blinding, emitting a sound like a cannon going off.

  I step backwards from the corner, raising my sword in a defensive guard while trying to will my eyes to work again, working on memory of where the nearest door was to fall back into something defensible when I hear a voice in the distant ringing of my ears.

  "Watcher's Eyes, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

  The voice is cloyingly familiar, but I can't place it through the deafening ringing. But I recognize it as not being a monster, so I lower my guard and answer, speaking way too loud over my ringing ears while the acrid scent of the burned-out runes on my buckler assault my sensitive nose.

  With the sensitive ears and nose of my heritage, this is intensely debilitating, so I reach into my phial case and extract a healing phial and crush it in my offhand and drag the resulting fluid across my face and ears.

  While they recover, I feel the presence getting closer and tense up until I can see, hear, and smell again.

  The reason for the force behind the attack becomes immediately clear.

  Serafina Blackthorn. Archivist of the Kharbon branch of the Order of the Eternal Vigil.

  "I'll…be fine." I say through gritted teeth. It was a simple misunderstanding, but the pain of the last minute or so has me on edge. Being blinded and deafened aside, it feels like someone has driven a spike into my brain stem. Having an explanation for it does salve the wound a bit though.

  Serafina, as far as I know, is among the most capable non-combat-focused magi in the country. In her family of exceptional people, she is considered a prodigy worthy of note even by the crown.

  Of course, non-combat is very relative. At her level of essence development, she's quite capable of defending herself, even if she's not a combat magus. When you wield the raw power of someone that deep into essence development, even casual cantrips can be more impressive than a dedicated spell from a lesser magi.

  "I must admit to being surprised to see you here, though maybe I shouldn't be since you're the second of the Vigil I've stumbled into. Nyssa didn't try to kill me though."

  As I blink the rest of the pain away, I take in the woman for the first time completely. There's a veritable sea of multicolored essences whirling around her, held in close to her by her fluttering robes enchantments. Enchantments designed to store extra power and amplify anything she does magically.

  "You've seen Nyssa?" The look of eager hope strikes my mental image of her quite hard, nearly shattering it. The couple times I've seen her from a distance, she's always struck me as…well…something of a cold witch. But maybe I was being prejudiced against her for being so absurdly capable at such a young age. Looking how she does, and being as powerful and influential as she is, I'm sure she has to beat people off with a stick. Keeping a resting look of angry disinterest would be a good defense mechanism.

  "I have. We travelled together briefly. Saved my life, even. And managed to find a survivor in her brief time in the town."

  "Was she well?" She regains her composure to what I would normally expect. Drawing herself up to her full height with an air of haughtiness. If I didn't know any better, she was trying to hide her feelings to appear stoic. That amuses me greatly, and I can't stop a small smile from coming to my face.

  A smile that she glares daggers at, reiterating her question before I can respond, and in a much colder tone. "Was she well?"

  "Relax, Lady Blackthorn." I decide to be a bit more firm than I probably should be. The Blackthorn family are among the most influential individual groups in the nation, but I can get away with it here, she did almost kill me. And if I needle her, I might get an answer to my suspicions about her and Nyssa. "Nyssa was doing quite well, all things considered. Physically at least."

  My slight bit of petty disrespect hits home and she narrows her eyes at me. "Only physically? What else was going on?" The first question carries that same tone of hope. I'm not going to make the mistake of probing her mind again to confirm it, but the slight facial twitches to a concerned expression definitely paint a clearer image.

  My thoughts confirmed, I return to my normal helpful mien. "She was distressed. It's not my place to reveal her struggles, but she's worse off than I've ever seen her before. Not debilitatingly so, but carrying more weight than she should, and unwilling to share it." But maybe a little meddling couldn't hurt. "But she would probably benefit from your presence, I think." And just the hint of a flustered blush. Perfection. Even the mighty have a weakness in their armor.

  The thought reminds me of a great number of other interactions I've had with countless others. The level of satisfaction I get out of realizing those holes, and thinking about how to exploit them, is entirely untoward, and mostly based on my overabundance of Cognitio….but I have to question how much of it is actually me. The line is getting blurry as the years wear on.

  "And you said there was a survivor? Can I see them? How did they survive?" This eagerness is something I would expect, given her position.

  "By all means, follow me. He's not communicative though. When Nyssa found him, he was on death's door from essence deprivation and I'm helping him recover slowly."

  "How much does he remember of the events?"

  "I've not really gotten a chance to interrogate him over it. Like I said, he's non-communicative and recovering."

  "Right, sorry. I'm just a bit strung out right now. Apologies." She half-bows as we walk alongside one another, folding her hands into the sleeves of her armored robes after securing her stave to her back.

  "Not a worry. It's your job to ask these questions. As soon as I have answers you'll be among the first to find out outside of the Crownsguard, as expected." I hazard an offer of an olive branch. "What I've managed to skim off his thoughts is a very scattered memory of a relatively kyn-looking calamity. Elongated limbs, raking claws, a long head with sets of eyes extending backwards along its skull."

  She reacts to the news with a flinch that is followed by an intensely worried expression. "What's wrong?" I ask.

  She hesitates for a while, actually drawing to a stop with a couple taps of her boots as she calls a bright purple essence to her eyes. As I watch, they start to dart back and forth like you might see if you looked at someone who was dreaming — constant rapid movements. I'm well aware of the nature of the essence the Blackthorns use — it's a necessity for us interacting with the chartered families — but it's never not unsettling watching it be used. "To preface: the Vigil is not at all certain about these findings, other than knowing that we trust Nyssa's accuracy as a reporter. But it bears mentioning to you, especially with…that little bit of information,

  That sends a chill down my spine, but I nod. "I must express a deep, gut-wrenching, level of concern on hearing someone like you say you're 'not at all certain' about something, like this, Lady Blackthorn."

  It gets a small, momentary, and similarly deeply uncomfortable smile, "Trust me, I feel the same way about this entire situation. The calamity that Nyssa reported only partially underwent morphosis. It was nearly entirely still in the form of a human man, but with its calamitous essence only changing his arm, up to the shoulder. It's unheard of, and we don't have an answer for what that means or why it might have happened. She reported that it didn't appear to be hostile, and did seem to be trying to escape her, up to and including begging for its life. It was smart, cunning, and manipulative." She pauses as she exhales a few wisps of expended essence. "And if what the boy saw was accurate, that means there's another one active and loose. One that also doesn't appear to be acting to behaviors we would expect, which. needless to say, is very not good. Presuming the boy is remembering correctly and that you're skimming accurate information to begin with."

  “Not to say I doubt your abilities, but the idea that two anomalies might be running around seems substantially less likely than a traumatized child's memory being unreliable. I hope.”

  She slumps, looking very tired. I can't fault her. Dealing with these things is the personal purview of her family in specific and the Vigil in general. "That's…unprecedented." Is all I can really manage to offer. A Blackthorn admitting a lack of knowledge is a rarity in and of itself — its the basis of their entire charter. Admitting a lack of knowledge on something as vital as this probably is killing her inside.

  "There are a few historical examples of the monsters working together, but they're so solitary that it's only happened a spare few times as far as I know. Precedented, but only technically. And only in the most extreme circumstances." Some pieces fall together as she explains. The only example I know of involving calamities working together was the fall of Nyssa's homeland. If that's happening here, or even something remotely similar, this could be getting very, very nasty very, very fast. I'll need to report it to The Spire as soon as possible.

  "Your name is Vari, right? I know we've never met, but Nyssa has spoke of you in the past."

  "I'm flattered that you would remember me in any case, and that Nyssa talks about me." I give her my best winning smile and she returns it a bit more warmly. "But yes, my name is Vari."

  We arrive at the little building serving as my base of operations. I move inside first, carefully pulling the protective sheet back. to reveal the boy, unsurprisingly, has not moved.

  "Watcher Above, I can barely even sense him. Are you sure you're equipped to handle this, Vari? Not asking as a lack of faith, but my understanding is that you're a mind magi, right?"

  I shrug. "Am I the ideal person? No. But given that you're surely on your way to pursue your charge, I don't see a better option. Unless you want to carry a child with you in pursuit of a calamity?" It's a bit of a strong response, but I don't appreciate my abilities being questioned.

  But that's only one facet of my annoyance. I'm also feeling the fringes of her thoughts as I lose and regain focus on restraining my essence. Every time I touch the edge of her mind, it's noisy. Whatever passive defenses she has against being read is giving me a migraine.

  "Fair point. I meant no insult, apologies, again. I'm just worried about a lot of things right now. Clever trick with the tarp." The compliment feels forced, but it's an honest attempt to make up for the faux pas, so I shrug it off. "Where was he found? Somewhere that might be a reliable hiding place in the future? We try to keep a record of possibilities."

  I spend the next little while catching her up on everything Nyssa told me, where the boy was found, my plans in the coming days, among anything else that seems pertinent. But, before long, she has to go the same direction as Nyssa.

  Lady Blackthorn lets me know of the specific circumstances of Nyssa's departure, and I have to admit that I'm equally impressed and annoyed at it. If she's so distressed to be doing something as foolish as that, then I think I may need to round up Calen and Puff and go make time for a visit.

  But first, I have to get this boy back to A'su. We'll stop in Kharbon for supplies and maybe visit the Vendala that Nyssa used to be involved with. She was especially talented with essence therapies, if memory serves…