Aegar closed his eyes, hiding the golden glow that illuminated them.

  An incantation fell from his lips. “Lady’s Knowledge.”

  It was a blessing Rowan was familiar with, and he was curious to see it in use.

  Eldara’s domain was broad, with growth decidedly under her purview. The Order of the Verdant Oak dealt with that particular aspect of her faith, being Guides for walking your Path.

  They could help with crafting an Insight to advance a skill, or even teach Intents for certain spells. Not that they did that constantly, but seeing one was common among adventurers and farmers alike.

  Their knowledge was useful in more ways than one, and the church made certain everyone had access. The only thing you needed to do was set an appointment, and the only cost was your time.

  In a city like Litwick, that meant waiting for a few weeks—or maybe even months—between visits. Bigger cities had enough of them to deal with that demand, but while members of their order were more widespread than healers, that didn’t make them common.

  A Guide’s time was valuable, and Rowan was trying to be grateful for receiving it.

  Minutes passed.

  Aegar remained seated, his eyes still closed. The only thing that changed was his expression, shifting between thoughtful and mildly peeved.

  Rowan continued to wait, observing as the glow moved from his eyes to seemingly emanate from within his forehead

  The Lady’s knowledge was vast, and it took some time to look through it.

  Finally, the glow subsided.

  Aegar opened his eyes, his brows furrowed in an expression Rowan couldn’t quite read. It seemed like a mix of confusion and surprise, and he couldn’t decide which emotion dominated.

  “I did find something,” he said slowly.

  But before Rowan could get too excited, Aegar continued. “There was no mention of your trait by name, at least not that I’m capable of finding. A member of my Order with a higher ranked blessing might have a different answer, but you would need to journey to another region for that.”

  Rowan couldn’t say that he wasn’t glad. If one of the highest ranked priests in the region didn’t have access to it, it wasn’t something most people would know. Not if they didn’t go looking for it.

  A flicker of hesitation flashed across the priest's face. “I do have to ask you something. As I do with anyone possessing a seemingly unrecorded trait.”

  Rowan’s eyes narrowed, a sudden sense of unease bubbling up to the surface. “No,” he said simply.

  Aegar sighed in relief. “I hoped you’d say that,” he chuckled lightly, taking a slow sip of his water. “The chances of it being completely unknown are slim, and me sending it to the archive for approval would have been… laborious.”

  It took Rowan a moment to process what he’d just said, his unease making way for confusion.

  He… doesn't want to share it?

  “How does that work?” Rowan couldn’t help but ask. “Shouldn’t you want to expand your Lady’s knowledge?”

  Aegar quirked an eyebrow. “That is something I doubt will ever happen.”

  Rowan ramped up [Iron Will], clearing his mind from distractions.

  Alright, so he just doesn't care. He made a vow to not share anything I say, and he doesn't feel compelled to question my answers too deeply because he thinks it's something others already know.

  With that realization, Rowan found himself calming down.

  Aegar was a priest of Eldara, a member of one of her sacred Orders.

  A Guide was someone he could trust with this.

  “So,” Rowan said after a few seconds. “What did you find?”

  Aegar nodded. “I did find three other traits that might offer some insight.”

  Rowan leaned forward, an eager glint in his eyes.

  “They are all similarly named,” he began. “And after I tell you what I know of them, you’ll understand my initial surprise.”

  Aegar straightened up, setting aside his glass. “The first is called the [Saint Soul],” his voice took on an all too familiar cadence that pulled Rowan in. A teacher relaying a lesson. “It was recorded almost twelve hundred years ago, belonging to an apostle of Eldara herself. Lumos Palantir.”

  The name slipped from his lips like a whisper. “A healer of such great renown that it is said his mere presence mended ailments thought unhealable. His death is a mystery to this very day, though there are stories in the western reaches about a robed man saving a whole city from a necrach’s plague before succumbing to their curse.”

  The mention of Apostles immediately pulled his thoughts towards Zoe. A healer that had been sent to find him by the Goddess herself.

  But before he could slip down that rabbit hole, Aegar continued. “The second is called the [Warlord Soul], though it is as much myth as fact,” he leaned back in his chair. “A Votary of Vel’an once wrote of it when visiting the barbarian tribes to the east, some two thousand years ago. The leader of the fiercest clan was said to have possessed it, granting him unmatched physical might that he could channel into his army. There is no mention of his name, just the moniker of Warlord.”

  Rowan took a few moments to process that information.

  The System didn’t choose names at random. And so far, Aegar had mentioned two traits with access to something seemingly endless.

  Just like that sea.

  A healer that could mend unhealable ailments, and a warrior with unfathomable might.

  There was definitely a connection there.

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  The first is probably Divine Essence, and the second Stamina.

  It was pure guesswork on Rowan’s part, but this was the information he had to work with, so that was what he did.

  “What about the third one?” he asked, his curiosity peaking.

  “The last, and most recent mention is the [Arcane Soul],” Aegar answered, tracing the rim of his glass. “It belongs to none other than the Grand Magus of the Ascendant Academy, Horus Zam’Del-Kilai.”

  Rowan felt his breath catch in his throat.

  What?

  For a heartbeat, the room seemed to shrink.

  The Grand Magus wasn’t some far-off legend to him. He wasn’t just the strongest practitioner in the kingdom—a White-core mage with a tier five affinity.

  He was also his father’s mentor. His father’s friend.

  Horus had been like an uncle to them.

  Rowan clenched his fists, his chest tightening as memories flickered to life—hazy images of Horus visiting his family estate, his booming laugh echoing through the halls as he entertained his brothers and sisters, his father smiling warmly at the man who’d taught him everything he knew.

  The man Rowan had once hoped to learn from himself.

  Did he know? Rowan thought suddenly, his mind spinning. Did he know about my trait?

  He shook his head. No, he couldn’t have known, Rowan thought firmly. He’d have said something. He wouldn’t have let me believe I was dull for so long. He wouldn’t have let me suffer like that.

  [Iron Will] curbed his spiraling thoughts, yet it didn’t deal with them entirely.

  “Are you okay?” Aegar asked, pushing Rowan’s glass closer. “Take a minute. I know it must be a lot to process.

  You have no idea how right you are.

  He took a sip, unsure what to think.

  Rowan knew of Horus’s trait, though not by name. His moniker was The Endless. One he’d gained by performing feats of magic that would require a hundred mages working in concert to achieve.

  Is that what that sea was? An endless supply of mana?

  But that didn’t seem right.

  Rowan was intimately familiar with his magic, and whatever he’d unleashed against the Wyrmlings had been something else entirely.

  It felt like potential. While there were certainly similarities, Rowan felt that calling it mana would be an inadequate description.

  An Apostle, a Warlord, and the greatest mage of an age, he sighed. Lofty company.

  A surefire way for him to get answers would have been to go to the Academy, find Horus, and hound him until he shared. But that wasn’t something Rowan could do. Or at least, not yet.

  The Academy was located in the Emerald Bastion, and the Wilds in that region were home to monsters much more dangerous than goblins and wyrmlings.

  Or in other words, not something Rowan could survive.

  So if each one of those traits offers some kind of resource, what’s mine?

  He had never heard of anyone utilizing the soul for power. None of the books he’d read referenced it, and neither had he heard anything from his family. Even in passing.

  Rowan voiced his question to Aegar, and finally got a concrete answer.

  “Ah, you’re referring to a Wellspring,” he said, a mildly surprised expression on his face. “The Body stores Stamina, and a Core Mana, while the Wellspring stores Spirit.”

  “And what’s it used for?” he probed deeper, sitting on the edge of his seat. “It’s bound to be useful for something.”

  Aegar sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there. The soul is not a candle to be burnt. Spirit does not replenish the same way other resources do. So whatever amount you are born with, that is what you have.”

  “And what if someone had a lot of it?” Rowan tried to keep his face blank. Not wanting to get his hopes up. “Enough to not have to worry about overuse.”

  Aegar certainly had access to knowledge Rowan wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else—at least for a time—but it wasn’t infallible. He might have been a high-ranked priest in the region, but he was still only of the third circle. A ways off from the true movers and shakers of the church.

  “An enlarged Wellspring should allow for the binding of more items to the Soul. Yet besides that, I wouldn’t know,” he shook his head. “I understand why you’re asking, but are you certain your trait functions like that? The name suggests durability, not quantity.”

  If I hadn’t experienced it, I’d have probably agreed.

  An [Immortal Soul] had to have something to keep it alive. And if it was truly immortal, that something had to be quite abundant.

  “I’m just curious,” Rowan deflected. “I’ve never heard or read about Wellsprings and Spirit. And it just sounds like something I should have known about.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Aegar chuckled. “It isn’t exactly a prolific topic, and those who do research it mostly keep the discoveries to themselves.”

  Sounds about right.

  A soft knock interrupted their conversation. “High Priest?” a voice called out. “The morning prayer is about to finish, and visitors should be arriving shortly to see you.”

  The older man sighed, standing up. “It appears we are out of time,” he said, extending a hand. “I do hope what little I knew illuminated even a sliver of your Path.”

  Rowan shook it. “It definitely did. Thank you for your help.”

  Aegar waved him off. “Please, I should be the one thanking you,” he smiled. “It isn’t every day someone like you wanders into our halls. And of course, you are more than welcome to come back. I will free up some time should you wish to have another conversation.”

  “I might just take you up on that.”

  And with that, Rowan left the priest's office, nodding in passing to the man who’d knocked.

  As he walked through the temple, his mind replayed the encounter he’d just had.

  The priest didn’t tell him much, but it was definitely more than Rowan had known before. So he took it as a win.

  Presumably, my trait gives me an endless supply of Spirit. Only problem is, I have no idea how to use it.

  Rowan had tried more than once to go back to that strange island. But no matter what he did, it just didn’t work. He just had no way of slipping into the right mindset. And recreating what happened in the Plateau seemed like an especially idiotic thing to do.

  He was sure that figuring it out would result in something special. Something unique to him that would hopefully allow him to fulfill his goals.

  But right now, that just wasn’t in the cards.

  He needed to be able to cast. Being without his mana—even for just a week—had been a miserable experience. Especially since it happened right after he gained a second affinity.

  So while Rowan would have liked to experiment with what his trait had to offer, it just wasn’t the time.

  A smile tugged at his lips as he entered the main hall, his focus shifting to his Core.

  The celebration last night had pushed his healing even further. And while he still wasn’t ready to cast [Fireball] again, everything else seemed to work just fine.

  Might be time to learn some new spells, he thought, looking around for Zoe.

  The only Wind spell he had was [Gust], and changing that sounded like the perfect way to spend the time he had until a certain Silver-rank came back to the city.

  After a few minutes of waiting and still no Zoe, Rowan decided to start heading back.

  Looking for her seemed like an awful lot of trouble, and she probably had things to do in the temple.

  He stepped onto the cobbled streets.

  Rowan felt eager for the day ahead. There were things to do and spells to master, and it was hard to keep the smile off his face.

  But as he started walking, a familiar head of red hair caught his eye.

  Annie was looking at him with an annoyed expression, arms crossed as she leaned against a nearby building. “Finally!” she exclaimed, walking up to Rowan and grabbing his arm. “Come on, we need to get to the Hall,” she said, dragging him away.

  “Whoa, slow down. What’s going on?”

  She grimaced, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “Killian’s back. And let’s just say he isn’t happy.”

  Rowan sighed, letting her pull him along.

  Well, this is going to be fun.

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