• Graded • The Pure

[Praetorum]

????

Praetorum watched the Eternal go home, a smile on his lips. And then, with his four companions at his side, he set off down the road, contemplating where, and when he should emerge. 



Well. Prae supposed he had questions left unanswered.


When he emerged out of the space where his portal had once been, he saw he wasn't the only one who'd had that idea. Another mage— no. Another spirit stood before None, conversing easily with the metal man. "Number None, good to see you again." Prae inclined his head at None, then turned to Zarik. "And... I don't think I know you. Didn't get much of a chance to speak to anyone before my trial." Water fluttered forwards, nudging against Zarik in curiosity, then darted back to Prae, weaving around his shoulders. 



Prae fell silent as the other Diri spoke, considering his options. He glanced around the room, noting the newcomers, and nodding his head to them in greeting, before returning to Number None. "None, will it break or unbalance anything if I go in to help one of the seven who still need to finish their trials?"


"I.. believe as long as you keep yourself pure and balanced, you should be able to enter without harming anything more."


The man seemed worryingly uncertain, but Prae was one with his hone spark now, was his hone spark. To help, to rescue, to save was simply in his nature. "Alright, good to know there's still something I can do here. Hmm.. how many—"


Whatever Praetorum was about to ask, it was cut off by a shout from one of the newcomers. Whirling around, Prae caught sight of a man approaching, longcoat flaring out behind him. Only this was no man, not any more. If nothing else, the ash pouring from his mouth and eyes was proof enough of that. 



Prae stepped in on reflex, setting himself in between the ghost and the other diri. And as he did, the coat on the man settled, just so, and Prae's mouth went dry as recognition shot through him like a bolt of lightning. 



"Someone stop me." Praetorum's old friend choked out, and Praetorum moved without thinking, darting forwards to sweep the human into a hug, to try and calm him, to bring him back to his senses.


Only Luther wasn't a human anymore. And without a human's bulk to stop him, Praetorum, ghost and longcoat in his arms, found himself thoughtlessly stepping through a portal. 



And into the Trial of the Starved.

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

Hart was awake.

Hart was awake and he didn't want to be.

"Please no," he said. His head hurt. His body hurt. His Fractures hurt. Everything hurt.

And he was awake. "Fuck me."

Painfully Hart tried to move. He tried to move, and he thought that if existence was kind he would fall back into unconsciousness, but he remained awake, and so he cursed Faldrun for it because why not. Painfully he managed to sit up and then, holding onto the wall so he wouldn't just fall back over, he stood.

"Fuck me," he said again, hurting, and said it with emphasis.

Luther was there and asked Hart if he was feeling better. Hart grimaced and was about to say, "The fuck no," when he realized that Luther was dead.

Luther was dead. "You're dead," Hart said, and thought Luther must have died because of what had happened with Daia. "Fuck," Hart said. Was Arlo dead? Arlo wasn't there and Hart had the absolute certainty that Arlo had been incinerated. So Arlo was dead too. Was Vega dead? No, Vega was there.

Hart

stared at her.

Understanding took a while to come to him. He knew it was her. He knew it was her because she was a mortalborn and he could tell it was her. Faldrun's mortalborn. Fucking fantastic. But she didn't look the same.

"Oh," he said after a while. Then even more emphatically he said, "Fuck me."

There was a metal figure in the room, answering many questions, and Hart creaked over to it and said, "Stay still a moment, won't you?" He bent and huffed onto the metal figure's chest. Then he rubbed the metal until it reflected. He looked at himself grimly. "Could be worse," he said, and then said, "No, it really couldn't."

That was when the ipi chet spoke up.

He talked about being better and nobler than us lazy fucks and Hart put up a hand, vaguely in the direction of the chet, and banished him. He would have rolled his eyes but he was tired and he hurt and he was done with it.

Gods, Hart thought. I am. So old.

Why was he awake?

Dead Luther went after the chet and Hart might have let him hit the wee ipi noch but then Luther said to stop him. Hart sighed.

Before he had managed to creak himself between the two of them, another person appeared and sent both himself and Luther through the nearest doorway.

So there were doors. And there was a trial or, he didn't know, perhaps each door was a trial. And they had to go in and he didn't know again. He had been unconscious while most of it was being explained. He wasn't going to ask.

Hart stepped through a door and was gone.

Continued here.

OOC: I rolled a d4 for the remaining trials and Hart went into Trial of the Blind.

[Thysbae]

ADORA

A choice. Lips pursed, the mixed blood glanced over the glowing portals. If someone needed to be saved, wouldn’t that mean they were quite dangerous, these trials? Or were those people just weak? The mortal born looked to the others in the room once more. Some seemed unsure, like Adora, and others already moving with purpose towards one of the portals. How nice; there mst have been something that had made them confident. Adora pouted. Rash decisions couldn’t be made. Not with Bae being...well, Bae. Too squishy; she didn’t like that. But she liked being soft. People liked that the mortal born was soft. Squishy. Biting at her thumbnail, another examination of the portals was made. And then she closed her eyes and stepped towards one with very little thought.

It was only close enough that a decision might appear to have been made. When she opened her eyes, she stood before her choice with only some satisfaction. Squishy; too squishy for anything she would need to be more actively involved in. Whatever was on the other side of the portal ought to be interesting or she would be very upset. The Eternals better thank her for her contribution in freeing them. A reward would be nice. Oh, she had to give the man who’d carried her up all those stairs a reward. But nothing on her was - well, she had nothing to give. It wasn’t like the clothes off the mortal born’s back would fit the man. Turning to him, the pout deepened. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything to give you, but if you stay with me, I will have something to give you when we’ve dealt with this Eternals business.” Squishy - she’d need protection and this man could provide just that.

Adora didn’t know what Blackwood would be doing. Whatever choice the soldier made, the mortal born could no longer influence it. Their lives didn’t depend on cooperation with one another anymore. She didn’t like the soldier all that much. Where was Max? Was she in one of those portals? Maybe Max would like how squishy the mortal born was. Adora skipped forward, not caring if the man followed, smile returned as she went through the portal and into the Trial of the Alone.

[Vega]

Vega Lei'nox found people really irritating. There were suddenly quite a few of them here, and her irritation did not abate. Some were just here and gone, some were too busy being wrapped up in themselves to worry about anything else. She like None, and the answers which None gave made sense to her. "Righteo. Fix the Trials, sort it out. Fine. Thanks." To Lusty Bench, she quirked an eyebrow but said nothing more. After all, her buxom-ness had done what she asked, so she left it at that.

But then, just as Vega was thinking about which door to go through, some blond-headed numpty wafted through like a fart in a cave and started talking. No. No, that wasn't what he was doing. "Shurrup, you steamin' pillock." Vega said to Zarik. "If yer gonna gob-off in ignorance, then do it in yer head or when yer on yer own. I imagine, that's a lot o' the time. You don't know me, what I'm thinkin' nor feelin'. So take yer lecture an' shove it up yer pretty ass you condescending piece of turd." Her eyes swirled colours and tiny embers flew off her. "I've fought for this world, an' all the creatures an' bein's within it time an' time again. You talk like you know squit about squat, an' you don't. So, Zarik, child of the first, take yer highly inflated ego an' jog on. Yer flibbityin' my gibbet an' if there weren't work to be done, I'd be gettin' real testy with you. Asshat."

Then Luther went and rushed said Asshat, and Vega rolled her eyes. She didn't move to stop the stupid ghost who'd already done more harm than good by his impulsive actions and tendency to rush in without thinking. Because there was work to do.

"By all that's sacred in this world, I swear men are the stupidest thing," she said to Chuckles. "If they're not bein' pompus idiots what spew crap from some over-developed ego, their hot-headed fools or slatherin' themselves over a woman. " Turning to Chuckles Vega smiled. "Never send a boy to do a woman's job, eh? Come on, lets go focus on what's important, an' see which one o' them wins in the pissin' contest."

And then, she made a choice. Who would be the most needy, the most difficult, the most unlikely to succeed? And, having worked that out, she stepped straight through.

Into the Trial of the Scared.

[Sephira]

Not knowing where and how to act was a new feeling for the Element. She was accustomed to facing situations and opponents that she could understand. Friends and foes that she could grasp. However, in this moment she truly did feel lost. Number None said that she wasn’t even supposed to be there. That she was unbalanced and only capable of making the situation worse.

When the creature of gold and clockwork answered her final question though, Sephira slowly began feeling the information click into place. The ‘Conquers’ could only refer to one group of self important, foolish creatures: The Immortals.

More than once she had encountered them.

With Vri she had seen him curse Amaris into undeath simply for spiting him, and with Qylios she had seen her task Sephira with protecting her son. While the boy had done a great thing for Sephira, it had not sat well with the Element that the Immortal had deigned to ask that she, Rey and, Patrick essentially babysit the lad. They all had their own lives and hardships, and while she would always owe Toraj a debt, her life did not allow her the luxury of defending the young man forever.

The only Immortal the woman had ever met who seemed to have true and good intentions was Ethelynda. She had granted the mage a small slice of her power simply because she thought it was right and deserving. Not because she had ulterior motives.

So the Immortals it seemed had not always been residents of Idalos. They had invaded, and forced out the resident powers of Idalos. The Usurpers, the Conqueror, it all made sense. The dark eyed mage was tired of mortals being left to suffer at the whims of the gods. Their lives were hard enough as it was without them meddling in their affairs. Mortals were not pieces on a chessboard to manipulate, they were souls worthy of living their lives in relative peace. The world of mortals was hers, and Sephira’s loyalties would always lie with her own kind.

Perhaps this was then a chance to change the fate of mortalkind, and return Idalos to a time before the arrogant godlings ruled.

The mage took in a deep breath as she gazed around the chamber full of people. Some spoke with Number None, others vanished into the portals that had opened that led to the trials. Everyone had a role, yet she felt dissociated...unbalanced...and wrong. Her Rupturing Spark quivered within her with discontent, tangling with her own emotions. Neither she nor the Spark enjoyed the idea of being set adrift without a clear direction or purpose.

Sephira stepped toward Number None, her mutation marked eyes pitch black compared with the golden glow of his metallic skin.

“The Usurpers...the Immortals, they have done little else that manipulate and use my kind.” The woman spoke coldly. “Some of them may try to do what they think is best, but far more toy with this world like it is simply a game to them. If you are telling me that there is a way to change that then tell me how to help you.” The mage’s face tensed with determination.

“You said I am lost and unbalanced. That I can’t help. Just tell me there is something I can do, and I’ll do it.”

Dialogue|Thoughts

[Aegis]

Number None ignored the many bold, or idiotic, or helpful, people that went into their various trials, some with purpose, others less so. He knew he couldn't change what they did now. It was not part of his programming. He was not one to worry.

And yet... he did.

He stopped and looked down at his feet. He was no longer bound to his path, thanks to Zarik. He was whole. And he wanted everyone else here, for those he served to be whole. Everyone deserved to be whole. Including the lost woman before him who was looking for nothing more than how to be useful, helpful. He had said words that, while true, were not kind. Zarik wouldn't have said such things. She was not whole.

But she could be.

And so, Number None's mind whirled and clicked and thought as the first plan he'd ever concocted came together. His first truly unique idea. He needed to go on his own trial, and this lost woman needed one as well. She would have the Trial of Number None.

He stepped forward toward Sephira, placing a hand upon her shoulder, and she would feel his smile. "You can help, because you want to do so."

His touch ignited the rupturing spark within her. It was not painful, but rather as though it was flooded with power and drive, biting at the leash. "This power in you will be needed. And it will require much of you." He turned and gestured to the swirling portals. "Time is beginning to destroy this place. I cannot tell how much time is left, but it does not fill me with hope. These portals are already smaller than when you entered here."

He turned back to her, "Hold them open, all of them, until each and every trial is completed. Whatever it may take. I ask much of you, this I know. But I will give as well. You may be lost, but you are not alone." He then looked in Zarik's direction, "Goodbye, my friend." Then he turned and stepped through the Trial of the Unyielding.

And despite him being gone, Number None's voice rang out over the area, "Lidia, sister of Maelick, has completed the Trial of the Wanderlust." And so, the portal indicated the Trial of the Stagnant faded away.

!

Message from: Aegis

Kisaik and Vega have been exited into the Trial of the Scared Luther and Praetorum have been exited into the Trial of the Sated Hart has been exited into the Trial of the Blind Thysbae and Soldier have been exited into the Trial of the Together If you have any questions, fire away. Portals Closed -Praetorum's Trial of the Strong -Zarik's Trial of the Large -Cervantez's Trial of the Great -Bear's Trial of the Primal - Lidia's Trial of the Wanderlust Portals Opened -Hector's Trial of the Balanced - Rabu and Enrick -Trial of the Starved - Luther and Praetorum -Trial of the Scared - Vega and Kisaik -Trial of the Blind - Hart -Trial of the Alone - Thysbae and soldier -Trial of the Unyielding - Number None Doors Opened -Door of Death -Door of Life -Door of Spirits -Undiscovered Door Doors Closed -Door of Souls

[Cervantez]

☠ Ashan 30th???? ☠
☠ Mood: Concerned
☠ Thoughts: What else can be done?
☠ Company: Blonde Male & Brunette Woman
☠ Current Theme: Dernière Danse
☠ Attire: Masterwork Armor

"Common Speech"

"Xantheon Speech"

☠

The Pure ☠

☠ The door he exited from within his trial brought him here, back to this waiting room. This time, however, it was empty, save for two figures now. A blonde and a woman. The golden automaton was nowhere to be seen and that raised a little concern to the......well what was he now?

in any case, Cervantez stepped forward, catching a glimpse of himself in the viewless window of the corridor. His mutations...they were gone. His eyes were normal again, and looking down at his hands, they too were normal. Just what did that place do to him.?

"Where is Number None? Has something gone wrong that I should be aware of?"

he inquired to them both. Looking to the male he realized that he left before him, not knowing if he had partaken in his trial.

Not waiting for a response he moved to look around, noticing something that caught his eye. The portals.....they had shrunk from what he remembered, no longer the size they were when he first arrived here. So much must have happened during his trial here.

Part of him was irritated in the fact he never had all the details of this place or number none. Turning back to the two remaining people, he approached them, a hand resting under his chin as he thought.

"I see some of the portals have either shrunk or closed, does that mean those within them have completed their trials, or are they trapped and we are all that's left?. Forgive me for all the questions, I just recently finished my trial and would like to know what all I missed."

he asked, looking around the room rather than at them, his mind still trying to piece everything he did know together. ☠

[Sephira]

Purpose.

It was the one thing that she had always needed and it was the one thing that the strongest of her Sparks had always craved.

Point a Rupturer in a direction and just watch them fly.

She peered and Number None curiously, her midnight eyes narrowing at him when he offered the task to the mage. Yes she had been scarred, transformed, and molded by her magic but that did not mean that she regretted a single moment on the road that had led her here. Sometimes it's our scars that make us into who we are, and enable us to do the things that others cannot.

“That I can do.” The Special Assistant said firmly, without question or hesitation. Her voice held a hard edge as she felt herself step comfortably back into the comfortable visage of the soldier.

She had orders now.

Her Rupturing Spark flared at Number None’s touch, seeming to cause her witchmark to flicker with motes of crimson radiance in the depths of her black eyes. Her Spark was itching to stretch it’s proverbial wings, like an eagle standing on the edge of a cliff. She had first been trapped in that stone chamber full of Seekers, then she had been forced to slog her way up the accent out of Slag’s Deep, now it finally was allowed to unleash itself.

Sephira slid her second glove off and tucked it into the inner pocket of her leather coat. It felt far better for her hands to be exposed to the air and the ambient ether within the chamber as she held them out toward the portals surrounding the center. There were six portals open, including the one that the mechanical man had vanished through. She normally only used her magic on one portal at a time, although often in quick succession. This would be a wholly new challenge.

‘You and me, together.’ she thought silently toward her Rupturing Spark. It had always been there with her, through unknowable dangers, and terrifying awakenings when it had changed her body and soul. But no matter what, they had always been together. Ever since her mentor Elias had given her the spark over six Arcs ago. She had been such a foolish girl back then, incapable of knowing that this magic would lead her here of all places.

Ether sang into her grasp like liquid rivulets of quicksilver. It rushed into her Spark and her witchmark was set alight with a crimson fire in her eyes.

One by one the Rupturer reached out to each of the shrinking portals, linking herself and her Spark to them, and weaving her ether into the fabric of reality that made them. It was careful work, she knew well from experience how delicate and fragile the substance of a portal could be. One wrong move and you could collapse the entire thing...or cause the whole of the Scalvoris Docks to crumble. She bit her lip at the distant memory before redoubling her efforts.

Right at that moment a voice sounded on her right, however Sephira kept her abyssal gaze locked on the portals she was now linked with.

“Time is running out, I’m holding them open for as long as I can. To give the others a chance.” The soldier said tightly. She could feel her ether being drained by her ever hungry Spark. The Special Assistant threw every ounce of her will against the never ending drive of her Spark to consume ether. She had to conserve every ounce she could, otherwise this would all be for nothing.

Then at that moment, Number None's voice echoed through the room.

"Lidia, sister of Maelick, has completed the Trial of the Wanderlust."

"Maelick..." The Element whispered with a soft gasp.

That couldn't be the same....could it? After all this time, here in this otherworldly place was the sister of the comrade that she had failed to save in that horrible Fracture.

Element Maelick, left for dead, trapped in the reaches of the Ventri Fracture.

Sephira swallowed the lump in her throat. "Lidia, where is she?" The mage asked through tightly clenched teeth toward the other occupants in the room, all while doing her best to stay focused on keeping the portals stable. She couldn't afford to lose her focus now. Not when other lives rested in her hands.

Dialogue|Thoughts

[Llyr Llywelyn]

In the afterglow

of his completed Trial, Zarik hadn’t expected anyone in the corridor but Number None. He’d arrived to assure that the guardian’s mission was going accordingly and if None needed any more help in the matter. All the other people cluttering the place had been unexpected, though not entirely undesired when he found out how many Trials remained ongoing.

The sense of having done something right in his life, for once, strengthened when the ithecal spoke to him in recognition of before their respective Trials. He smiled at Praetorum, remembering the hone mage as the one who’d asked many questions and the name from when None had welcomed them to the corridor. He glanced at the nudge of curious water.

To the side, he caught an old man using Number None like a mirror. Zarik waved a dismissive hand to shoo the stranger away from the gilded guardian. None wasn’t an object to use like that, after all, no matter that he had a shiny body.

Zarik, then, turned to speak to everyone in the corridor at once. He hadn’t wanted to completely ignore the newcomers. So, Zarik Venora offered a polite introduction – so they would know his name –

–then he offered assurance that he had already gone through a trial and completed it – so they would know it could be done safely –

–and then he asked what worries or doubts they might have – so they could ask him questions that he might be able to answer –

–and then… then he got passionate. His words, for the entirety of two sentences, slid into a reminder of the greater world, of purpose, and of fate. Not only for them, but for himself as well.

And not a single individual of the newcomers seemed to resonate with any of it: his politeness, his assurance, his offer to answer their questions, or his passion for the safety of Idalos.

The young mage simply wasn’t sure as to why, observing as the others behaved in their various ways…

A woman with fiery hair, and an attitude to match, immediately berated him in an accent made for such tongue-lashing. Zarik tried to keep track of it all, but as tiny embers flew off her and her eyes swirled colors, he recognized the voice. He quietly said, “Ah, Fire. Child of Faldrun… Vega. Does that mean-”

Oh, she wasn’t done. He nodded, with a slight lick of his lips if only to restrain an anxious smile. He suspected a smile wouldn’t be appreciated by the woman at that particular moment. She was likely correct in what she said, anyway. As long as she planned to help, Zarik didn’t mind being called crass names or told off.

He maintained a neutral expression, then after the concluding slur Asshat had been decided, the biqaj glanced at Number None. He weakly mentioned, “S-so, you’ve come from the doors.”

Before anymore could be said, however, an also fiery man replied. He looked at Zarik’s body like… like… almost as if he wanted to devour the biqaj-formed diri. Zarik lifted a hand to place against his chest defensively when the unnamed stranger swore at him.

Had the man misunderstood what he’d said? He said to not scorn the fates, not that he scorned them… but as he listened, he realized, the man with ash from his eyes and smoke billowing from him, had nothing but scorn for the fates. Zarik took the smallest of steps away, braced himself as he saw the forward motion, but before the smoking stranger reached him – the ithecal mage forced the assailant through a portal and into a Trial.

Zarik’s gaze flitted to look at the remaining others, hand still set on the center of his chest; one foot paused in a backward step. He watched as the redheaded woman followed after the Tunawa who had rushed past when Zarik had first arrived. Then, the old man left through a portal with what he could have sworn was a grumble. Another individual left through a different portal without much fuss about any of it at all.

And then there were three: Zarik, Number None, and a female with obviously mutated eyes of solid black and a cold voice. She spoke of the Immortals, as Usurpers, and of their manipulation. Lost and Unbalanced, unable to help or so it seemed Number None had called her, but she was willing. She wanted to do something anyway. He smiled slightly when he heard the sentiment.

Zarik eased his stance. He looked over at None, then returned his gaze to the woman and wondered what it was that the guardian could see or sense in her to recognize that she was unbalanced. He thought to ask, but he held his tongue when he noticed the gilded man appeared to be thinking. The blond kept a close eye as None stared downward. He didn’t wish to interrupt. Something about the act reminded him of when the guardian had stepped off the path upon their return from None’s first memory… it felt important.

He remained silent and observed as None and the dark-eyed mage exchanged words. When the instructions were complete, he thought to speak with None but instead… the gilded guardian said goodbye in a way that seemed so final that Zarik stared with irises of sea-foam green hue. He managed a quiet: “Wait, Sir None…” but it was too late. Number None had entered the Trial of the Unyielding. He added, “Good luck.”

Zarik thought to follow the guardian. He paused, however, when he realized what had been said to the other mage who was tasked with holding the portals open. You are not alone. Perhaps he shouldn’t leave. While it could have been meant as a greater statement, he realized he might need to remain with the woman. He took a deep breath and nodded. Number None would be fine; he simply needed to accomplish the Trial by helping the mage within. If anyone understood Trials, it would be the guardian of them.

With this rationalization, Zarik folded his arms over his chest and turned back to see the Lotharro – Cervantez – from earlier, only without the various mutations. He looked so… ordinary. That meant perhaps he could leave the other mage with the Rupturer and help Number None, but the Lothar had questions. Questions he could answer while the woman focused; so there was a reason for him to remain in the corridor.

“There is still work to be done,” he answered the first questions shortly. He gestured toward the Trial of the Unyielding’s portal. “Seven Trials remain to be balanced. Number None has gone through this one.”

More questions followed but the brunette answered, though she need not to. For Zarik was there and he had no task such as her’s. He said, “Quiet. Focus.”

He informed Cervantez in a clear voice, arms still tightly crossed in front of him. His index finger tapped against his bicep in a fidget: “The portals which are complete are, I believe, ours and three others which means five of those within have been freed. Those that remain… they have not been released yet.”

“As has been said, time is destroying this place. Likely this is the reason we were called here and remain still. There are those who remain in their trials, with others now who have come from the perimeter doors to help. Those mages require aid to find their balance and offer freedom to those who need it. If I understand correctly, this woman is keeping the portals from collapsing while they work towards this. We should remain quiet and allow her to concentrate.”

Number None’s voice echoed. Six Trials were left. The woman seemed to get distracted by the announcement. Zarik sighed and answered, “This Lidia is likely wherever she chooses to be, as she has completed her Trial. Perhaps she is still within the portal itself. Now, please keep your focus. We will handle anything which may occur in the meantime so you can keep the portals open…”

“…Won’t we?” He asked Cervantez with a gesture to one side of the brunette. He stepped to stand at the other side of her, a short distance away. He didn’t expect anything to happen, but he also didn’t assume nothing would occur as time pressed onto the circular corridor.

Zarik placed a hand at his hip and surveyed the area. He tapped his foot against the floor, impatiently waiting for the next announcement or arrival of another. With Number None gone, he decided he would take on the task of helping any other newcomers, or those who might return to the corridor, the best he could.

He glanced over at the Lothar and suggested in a quiet voice, “Cervantez, perhaps you might assist in a Trial to quicken the process?” He gestured toward the Trial of the Unyielding’s portal again.

!	Message from: Aegis
	Continue the trial. I will reply again on June 20th. You may post as much as you wish. If you have any questions, just ask.

Speak ❈ Think

[Cervantez]

☠ The Pure ☠

☠ Taking in what was explained to him, the necromancer pondered his options. He could go and help one of these trials, or he could stay and help this woman keep the doors open.

"Ralaith if you could just buy us more time to get everyone out?"

he pleaded in a whispered tone.

Just what was he to do? if he took the chance to go into one of these trials, what was to say this woman could effectively hold the doors open? And why was she left to burden such a monumental task all on her own......unless?

He studied this woman, trying to figure out what magic or divine power she had that could be used to hold portals open. Of all the magic he's seen in Yaralon, only one came to mind. She was a rupturer.

Now came the question of how to help. What could he do to ensure these portals didnt close? Then an idea hit him, it was risky, but there wasn't much he could do but this. The pragmatic nature of Cervantez ruled out that even if he went into the portal to assist in the trial, there was no guarantee he would make it out alive.

On top of that he just couldnt rely on leaving that possibility up to this woman all by herself, she needed help more so than anyone within those trials. The yari in him surface, believing that those that didnt make it out of their own trial were not fit to survive and should be lost, but the sev'ryn in him wouldn't let that happen.

Stepping in front of the woman, he placed his hand on her chest.

"Keep your focus but listen carefully, as my own pragmaticism has decided you are the most important person who needs aid. I'm going to......add to your ether if only a little bit. I must warn you that the energy I'm going to impart in you is not ether, but something more..... it's ephemeral."

he spoke looking to the other male that remained.

Closing his eyes he began to flow his own ephemeral energy into her. He had to maintain his own focus, otherwise, he would either overload her with more energy than she could handle or worse, accidentally wither and rot a hole in her chest and doom them all.

Though his eyes were closed, he spoke to the other male in the room with them.

"I am to assume you have completed your trial as well?"

☠

☠ ASHAN 30TH????

☠ Mood: Calm & Focused

☠ Theme: Dernière Danse

☠ Thoughts: Let's hope this works

☠ Company: Blonde male & Brunette woman

☠ Attire: Masterwork Armor

"Common Speech"

"Xantheon Speech"