Chapter 2-15

The hunter stepped forward, nervous, but resolved. I’d already told the man, more than once, that his chosen aspect of air didn’t seem to fit his personality in the least. But he had been insistent, so I pulled a skyborne thistle from the chest.

This was among the weakest of the aspected resources that I had been gifted. Both in terms of the amount of mana it held, and in terms of its aspect. This particular thistle was said to help farmers predict the weather in the way that its seeds rode the wind, and the prickles of the plant felt like tiny bolts of lightning when touched.

Hopefully its weak aspect would allow Guta to reject the mana without too much difficulty. If not… well I had already steeled myself against his potential demise. Or he might completely surprise me, integrating the aspect with no issues.

Popping the ball of white fluff into his mouth, Guta immediately fell into a trace as he dispersed the aspect through his own mana. I monitored his progress carefully, until a polite cough at my elbow drew my attention.

“I don’t understand sir. Why are you so concerned? Aspects are so flexible and subjective, he should easily be able to adjust to this, if you’ve been teaching him to do so.” I could feel that Sati wasn’t being sarcastic or intentionally insulting because our bond was continuing to deepen. I cast my senses quickly about, ensuring that only Myta would overhear us.

“Aspects may be subjective, but they still only stretch so far. The bigger problem here is that Guta didn’t actually choose this aspect for himself.”

“I don’t understand,” Sati’s brow raised.. “You can’t adopt an aspect for someone else.”

“My point exactly.” I replied. “You lack the background behind it, but you should be able to sense his dreams now, through the edges of his presence. His underlying desires will be reflected there, even if you can’t pick up his thoughts.”

She brushed her presence gently against his, which was roiling violently. The thin wisps of air in his meridians were sparking and crackling, clearly falling further and further out of the hunter’s control. She darted a glance at Denu, her expression conflicted.

“You see,” I nodded. “His mind, more importantly his spirit, is not focused on himself at all.”

“He’s experiencing a vision, or perhaps a memory? Either way his mind is not in the present any longer.”

I was thoughtful at her words. It was possible that I could filter Guta’s spirit for him, remove the conflicting mana, but I couldn’t do that without harming him and aborting this attempt. Sati might open up another option.

“Can you show me?” I asked her. “I’m not sure that I could enter his inner world, and visit his **** mind without making things worse. But perhaps you can.”

“I think so.” The apsara sounded excited, she felt excited. As though she were trying something completely new. Which was ridiculous. With her inherited aspect of dreams, visiting and joining minds should have been one of the first things she learned to do. I kept that opinion to myself, however, not wanting to disturb either her concentration or confidence.

Sati’s presence linked the three of us, and I found myself being rapidly pulled through the mists of the Radiant Sea. If Gura’s mind had any defenses, I never saw them. Instead, I found myself directly in his dream.

“The mind is a tricky thing,” I told the apsara, even as I dragged our perception of time to a slow crawl. “Most sorcerers, most people, believe that dreaming happens only when we are asleep. But the **** mind is constantly working, constantly filtering and processing the thoughts and emotions we don’t want to dwell on.”

“What is this?” Sati stepped up to Guta’s phantom, frozen in time. He was standing protectively in front of Denu, while a demon loomed threateningly over them both.

“A scene from the past. Not that long ago. That,” I pointed at the demon, “is Futa, Guta’s brother. You see how much smaller Guta is? His brother loomed large in his eyes.”

“He’s dead now.” I nodded in confirmation. “Guta is protecting her, but I can feel him, trying to harness the air as a weapon to attack. He was already a sorcerer?”

“No. This isn’t a memory, not really.” I pointed at the demonic Futa. “This is how he sees the event, not just how it happened in the past, but how it continues to affect his mind right now. He’s so small, helpless to prevent what’s happening. And looking for a weapon to drive his brother off.”

“What should we do here?” She looked to me for direction, but I shook my head.

“What do you want to do? You have the power here. What is your goal?” The rush of emotions from the apsara was as clear as day to me, as though they were my own. Exhilaration at the feeling of control, fear of my judgment, and a nagging uncertainty. I wanted to prod that last one.

“I am leaving Guta’s fate in your hands, although I am happy to advise you somewhat.” It was clear to me that, for all Sati felt that power was her birthright, she’d had precious little responsibility in her life. Holding another person’s very soul in her care was a new experience for her.

She paused, a complicated expression on her face. But she pushed back her worry, replacing it with bravado.

“I just need to shift his perspective on air.” She stated firmly. “If I can change how he views the aspect, he should be able to integrate it successfully.”

She looked at me, as though waiting for my assessment, or more likely, my disapproval. But she hadn’t actually asked me anything, and I had the feeling that her approval-seeking was reflexive. So I restrained my impulse to instruct her, smiling encouragingly instead.

The apsara looked at me for a moment. First uncertain, but then her uncertainty turned into irritation, escalated into outright anger.

“What are you hiding from me? I can feel your… you’re not skeptical, you’re certain I’ll fail.” Her voice lost some of its musical quality, it melted under the heat of her temper like ice under a hot sun, exposing a sharp edge.

“Some things can only be taught by experience.” I defended, but in the face of her ire it felt like a weak justification.

“And I’ll suffer for you telling me beforehand?”

“I… no.” I finally said. “Not so long as you still make an honest effort. I was treating you the way my teachers treated me. And I did so thoughtlessly. I apologize.”

I inclined my head to her, not quite bowing. I didn’t straighten until her expression softened, and I felt her anger recede.

“It is too late right now for you to adjust his expectations.” I gestured at Guta, trapped in his moment of shame. “This is his **** mind, yes, but there are many layers to a mind. To affect the way he sees the aspect of air, or to affect the way he sees himself, you will need to go deeper. And you cannot do that while he is under such strain. Pressure doesn’t doesn’t really change who people are. It causes them to double down, or reveal the bedrock of their souls.”

“But I should still try?” She gave me a quizzical glance, and I nodded. I was glad that I didn’t feel any derision from her. I had worried, with her competitive upbringing, that any mistake or sign of weakness would be met with contempt.

“There is no substitute for experience, especially when it comes to influencing the mind.” I noted. “You must learn what he wants, how he views himself, and how he sees the world. Only then can you leverage them to change anything so fundamental.

“Look at this memory. At how large his brother appears, how inhuman. This was a moment when Guta’s world was broken, when someone he looked up to became a monster.”

She didn’t say anything, didn’t so much as nod, but I could feel her looking at the scene in a new light. And, with something like recognition. Prodding the memory, Sati began pulling out the threads of emotion inside it, and they manifested around us as streamers of mist. There was a trail of crimson, pulsing like a heartbeat, his admiration for his brother. Beside it writhed a sickly gray tendril, the color of rotting meat, which was his horrified surprise.

Twined ribbons of violet and blue blended into each other. Guta had been annoyed with Denu, but also affectionate. He had seen her almost like an annoying younger sister, tying the feelings up together. And over everything there was an itchy orange haze, the stress of the whole situation. Not just that encounter, but the strain that all of us had felt over the course of the days in those tunnels, hiding and fighting.

Sati spent a long while, immersing herself in each of those emotions. If we weren’t drawn to a stop for it, I’d have said that hours passed while she dug into the memories and thoughts associated with them. I didn’t dig deeply into them myself, just observing her until she finally gave a frustrated growl. It was surprisingly cute, watching her nose scrunch up as she scowled.

“This is useless!” She exclaimed. “I can feel some memories from him, but I can’t push far away from this scene.”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “If you follow these threads far enough to the memories that help create them, you might get lucky. Find something you can work with. But here, now, his mind is locked in this instant. It’s much more rigid when under stress.”

“I couldn’t find anything that leads to his associations with air at all.” She mused. “Did you examine his thoughts about it earlier?”

“I did,” I allowed. “I will tell you that he sees air as a violent, destructive ****. He associates it with storms and gales. I won’t tell you why, because the practice of finding those memories will be vital for you. If you already know what the memory is, you will find it without searching for yourself.”

“Just a hint?” She asked. But then shied away from my stern expression. “If I can’t shift anything that’s too far from this moment, then changing his feelings about defending Myta is the only thing I can do. Right now he’s ready to martyr himself for her But if I can change his perspective, he could strike at her enemies. Being an avenging champion would fit his views of air.”

“Try,” I gestured for her to go ahead, curious myself if she could push Guta that far. She had caused a Pure monk to perform a complete about-face after all, so her capabilities were significant. I felt her sorcery flooding Guta’s mind, attempting to shift his perspective. His form in the vision became larger, more idealized, as she tugged at his pride over saving her. I felt a surge of surprise and hope, imagining that she might succeed so easily, and spare the hunter a great deal of pain.

Guta’s psyche hovered at a tipping point, torn between his love and respect for his brother, and his sympathy for Denu. On one side of that cliff was pride in saving the girl, and on the other, shame for betraying his brother. He teetered, and Sati bent all her will to pushing him over. But his bonds to Futa were too old and strong, too firmly anchored.

Guta’s mind recoiled, violently, burying him in grief and self-hatred. And in that moment I could feel his spirit violently reject the air aspected mana. It tore at his meridians like shards of broken glass, shredding his anima from within.