My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:

How comes it then that this her cold so great

Is not dissolved through my so hot desire,

But harder grows the more I her entreat?

Or how comes it that my exceeding heat

Is not allayed by her heart-frozen cold,

But that I burn much more in boiling sweat,

And feel my flames augmented manifold?

What more miraculous thing may be told,

That fire, which all things melts, should harden ice,

And ice, which is congeal’d with senseless cold,

Should kindle fire by wonderful device?

Such is the power of love in gentle mind,

That it can alter all the course of kind.

- Edmund Spenser, Amoretti (2nd Era, 1590)

Erec tore through the night, led by his glistening blade. He was more of a monster than any ghostly wolf; his knife ripped through them and pulled them to pieces. But they didn’t bleed. Every time he landed a vital hit, they vanished into the fog they spawned from.

But, overall, Erec found them lacking as an enemy.

Even without his Armor—nor an axe, they died easy. With hands alone, he could tear their throats free and turn them to vapor.

It was too easy to reach his friend, even with a veritable pack of them circling and attacking him.

Things only got more complicated when he reached Garin and discovered that his friend wasn’t fighting the creatures at all. In fact, once he tore through the outer circle and got within ten feet of his friends, the fighting stopped entirely.

More wolves gathered around, a veritable army staring down Erec and Garin in a perfect ring. But his friend had a calm composure and held a hand high as he turned and looked at the poised wolves. “That’s it… Stay right there,” Garin commanded them carefully, constantly drifting his attention over their spectators.

Erec took a deep lungful of air at the unexpected reprieve. His body warmed from the violence, even if it wasn’t as satisfying as usual.

Soon there’d be more. “What the hell is happening?” Erec demanded, hot anger flaring as the cold fire suppressed it again.

This wasn’t the image he'd expected to see. Garin should've been showing his power. Proving himself. Calmly directing these apparitions wasn’t that; his friend should have been a veritable death machine. He wanted to see his friend thrive, to destroy the opposition. But as long as Garin kept a calm composure and spoke with a soft voice to these ghosts, they didn’t break their circle and engage in an attack.

It didn’t feel right at all. It was weak.

Erec clutched his forehead a second later—knowing that thought was wrong, knowing he was wrong for thinking it. This damned Fury.

“I—I don’t know,” Garin replied, swaying as he looked at his gathered army. “When they started appearing and attacking, I saw something in their eyes and spoke to them, which… settled them down. They’re not angry, Erec. They’re lost.”

“They’re magic.” Erec spat on the ground. Torn between disgust at the situation and at himself. “That lady is playing games with you.”

“No!” Garin protested, shaking his head. His voice was a little hollow and raw. “There’s more to them than just a glyph. I can feel it. They’re more than illusions conjured by her. They’re real, lost to time. When I look into their eyes, it’s like we come to an understanding, almost like….”

He trailed off, the pack of wolves began to separate at part of the ring, and Erec turned to face this new opening. Happy that, finally, something was happening. This was it, the reason they’d gathered around. It was a trap for something worse to come and haunt them. A massive scaled creature walked free from the mist; a five-foot tail whipped haphazardly across the ground as it closed the distance on its stubby legs. Finally. A real threat. It wasn’t one of these wolves—and even now, Erec saw its raw power. Almost like a true monster, even if it was as much a ghost as the wolves.

Erec grinned as he slid between Garin and the creature.

An enemy. At long last. He’d given into Fury and received a reward, a proper fight. A worthy fight for the first time in a long time. Enough grappling against his instincts of trying to water himself down for everyone else.

To his shock, before the creature could close the distance and begin the real battle, Garin slammed his shoulder into Erec and shoved him out of the way. Erec stumbled and tried to pivot back into the action, but it was too slow. Garin ran up to the massive lizard, its jaw widening, exposing a nasty row of ghostly teeth and a horrid hiss coming from it.

Garin’s hand reached out, and Erec thought he’d lose it.

Instead, Garin stroked the side of the ghostly jaw; the alligator moved a bit more forward, closing its mouth and moving to rub the side of its scaled body against him, its stubby legs carrying the thing around its new master in a protective gesture as it glared at Erec.

“…What the fuck.” Erec let out, the fire inside him sputtering away at the absurd sight.

“As I thought,” A voice called out from the mist; the fog swept aside to reveal Dame Morgana with a smile. She strode forward, eyes locked on Garin. “You have the blessings of The World upon you; it is a beautiful sight.”

With a wave of her hand, the spirits of the alligator and wolves vanished, leaving them alone in a barren wasteland blanketed with the otherworldly mist.

Garin’s hand was shaking as he looked at her. “W-what does that mean?”

“I believe you already know,” Dame Morgana shook her head.

Garin’s eyes widened… And then burst into silver fire, his head rolling back to look at the sky as the silver flames burned from his eyes. His talent ignited.

Erec watched with a slack jaw as his friend slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh, dear. Well, I supposed he hadn’t. Oh well. Deary—could you please carry him for me? I’m not too strong,” Dame Morgana tittered and shook her head, looking over at Garin. “I set up a fire not too far away. I have some tea brewing. We can talk this out while I continue to test the others. I think, for all intents and purposes, Dame Juliana will be fine with my evaluation of you two.”

Erec numbly walked over to Garin, slinging his friend over his shoulder. Confused about what had just happened or what his friend’s Divine Talent was, he went along with the strange woman.

[There better not be drums at this campsite…]

— -☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

There were no drums at her campsite. No, a tiny pot hung over a fire with hot water; in short order, she poured a small cup full of it with a bag of bound herbs and shoved it into Erec’s hands. His friend lay beside him, eyes wide open as he looked over his blessings for about the fifth time since waking up.

Dame Morgana hummed a tune to herself as she brewed more tea, the moon above making a stunning light on the fog that still drifted around the wasteland. A product, as Erec found out, of a ritual she’d cast.

A ritual.

When she broke down how she’d conjured the mist by communing with the spirits of the earth and through burning sage—VAL almost lost it. Declaring it as nonsense, considering her use of anomalous energy broke his already established rules. But like any scientific revelation, VAL had to accept the results of what they saw. Mysticism was more the glyphs if one knew how to use them in other ways.

Garin broke free from his stupor and mumbled to himself. “Animal Friend? Seriously? That’s my divine talent?”

“At least it explains why Munchy acts so weird around you,” Erec said and then sipped his tea. Garin stared daggers at him.

“Easy for you to say, rage-fueled Knight. Man, this talent sucks! I could’ve gotten something wild like you, but no. Animals Friend. Does a whole lot for me when the world is covered with monsters.”

“It is easy for the ignorant to speak ill of that which is unknown,” Dame Morgana tittered. “I find your talent to have much promise; it all depends on how you foster it. Look upon this world, and you see a place that once thrived with animals. In fact, we are but animals ourselves. It still thrives with animals; even in places as barren as it is here, there are pockets teeming with life. Besides, that talent confirmed what I saw; your soul is tied to the earth much like mine.”

“Explain what that means, please, without all the odd talk and wishy-washy proverbs you gave before.” Erec leaned closer and stared at the woman.

She’d gone on about elemental alignments and their relation to divine talents when they first arrived. But it’d all flowed over him like a directionless river before.

If it were anyone else, he might’ve dismissed it, especially with VAL urging him to ignore her new-age spiritualism. He’d felt tempted. But something about her certainty in her beliefs struck him as odd and chimed with his soul.

“Very well, I’ll attempt to break it apart in the most straightforward manner possible; the soul has four natural tendencies. Fire, water, earth, and air. And this is what determines our personality; what we will find in this world and how it will respond to us—“

“Stop right there,” Erec cut her off before they drifted away from the point. “Why are you so certain of our ‘souls’ being related to elements?”

“Well, it is a veiled thing, especially now. I wasn’t sure of it until my eyes were freed from this material plane—it’s hard to feel since we’re all laced with a bit of fire. But I think it wasn’t always this way in the past. If you squint hard enough, you can feel what’s beneath the veneer.” She nodded her head before getting excited. The woman dashed over to Garin’s side, cupping his chin in her hand. “There is a deeper meaning in your soul than you know. And I would see it polished clean if you will have me as the guide to your spirit.”

Erec sighed and looked down at his cup. He’d gotten lost again in her words.

It was hard to know how much to believe about what she was saying and how much of it was made-up nonsense that only made sense to her.

Her words earlier came back, though, of him having a similar fire but different.

Frustrating.

“I—“ Garin mumbled.

“I accept you as my student!” Dame Morgana loudly proclaimed. “Oh, you shall learn so much, my lovely apprentice!”

At least that was now taken care of. Erec slipped into silence as she began to talk excitedly to Garin, who was both baffled by the sudden overabundance of attention, and unable to rectify it with his new self-declared underwhelming talent.

Erec disagreed with Garin’s assessment of his talent. Like with Fury, he was sure there was depth to it that Garin didn’t even consider as being part of it. Some Talents were straightforward, while others seemed to only grow with use and insight. And his new mentor would make sure to foster it into something special, as weird as she was because she believed in him.

With his friend's future seemingly in good hands, Erec contented himself to enjoy the moment.

Though the future, his tests, and then his first feast weighed heavy on his mind. Were the world to run how he’d wished, he’d already be roaming the wasteland, free from this damned pressure.

Something inside of him was building, and he knew it wasn’t long before it burst.

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