It’s the morning after the group camped at “Ty-Lynn’s Garden”. Morning settles soft over the camp, the mist clinging low to the bedrolls and the blackened stones of the fire. A crow mutters somewhere in the trees. Alexis stands near what’s left of the coals, warming his hands more out of habit than need.
“Since Warder Yule,” he says, eyes on the faint embers, “and especially after what happened last night, I’ve been thinking about where my magic comes from.” He straightens a little, turning his hat absently in his hands as he speaks. “Avv’s realm has its uses—finding what’s hidden, drawing the unseen to light. But I’m not her servant. Never was. And since we left Ghanil, treasure-hunting hasn’t been high on the list.”
He looks up then, toward Ca’armine, but his voice carries to all of them. “The name of Avv… tends to make people uneasy. You’ve felt it. Yule certainly did.” He gives a small, crooked smile—more acknowledgment than humor.
“I trained with the Collegium,” he goes on. “They teach you to touch where you choose, not a servant any one realm. And I’d like to be in greater harmony with you; my Raidenites.”
Turning to face them fully, the mist curls around his boots, “Are you willing to help me make the shift?”
