Flare of the Sun who Ever Dances in Darkness looked back once more on the rift leading back to the lower realm before settling its gaze on the unnatural entity crouched inside its bubble of impossible cold, shielding itself against the natural energies of this small oasis in an otherwise dead world. Or rather not dead, but simply alien. It had glimpsed into the creature’s eldritch mind and it had seen. Life existed here in forms beyond all comprehension. Matter condensed into unchanging shapes, not by great and constant pressure, but rather through the deprivation of energy.

  It was the very definition of death, and yet this creature saw it as something essential to life. All life, in its mind, was built from such low-energy dense matter, and would be destroyed if freed from this state.

  It was a contradiction, but this was a new world – a place beyond the heavens. Hungrily, it placed a limb onto the surface of the bubble, allowing the entity to reform its mental connection. It needed to learn the secrets of this place, to understand it and to harness its unique potential.

  ***

  Knowing what to expect this time, Bernt did his best to pull his consciousness back as he placed his hand up against that of the elemental. It really was similar to the sensation of a familiar bond. He guessed that this probably wasn’t what Xul’evareg had in mind, but he wasn’t a shaman – he would do whatever worked. The elemental's alien perspective invaded his mind again, though he did his best to keep it separate from his own thoughts.

  After a moment, the elemental understood what he was doing and copied him, pulling its mind back a bit and “pushing” on Bernt’s. He breathed a small sigh of relief. An uncontrolled melding of consciousness like this would have been too disorienting for any kind of useful conversation. For a moment, he tried to decide where to start. The creature was curious, but also uncertain and confused by what seemed like an alien world to it.

  It would probably be better not to ask it to fight a pack of demons and cultists for him just yet. So far, they were still alone.

  “I need your help,” he began, speaking out loud. He knew the elemental didn’t speak Beseri, but it helped him to organize his thoughts, which it should be able to sense just fine. “My spirit isn’t... balanced.”

  Bernt faltered, trying to work out how to explain the problem. This elemental wouldn’t know anything about mages, how he cast spells, or what an investiture was. How could it?

  It just sat there for a moment, peering down at him and shifting slightly as if examining him from multiple angles. Bernt could feel its attention shift as it tried to make sense of his mana network. To the spirit, sensing the structure of his soul was easier than making sense of the physical body around it. Despite that, he could practically feel the curiosity bubbling over in the elemental's mind. It wondered at the artificially structured patterns, and the discrete investitures, both of which carried fire inherent to them in their very substance. Only one of them was properly alive, though – burning as such things should. The rest of it was even stranger, an eldritch matrix of alien forces designed to harness powers that it couldn’t begin to grasp.

  Excitement and wonder shivered through the creature, colored by a sense of personal pride and accomplishment and tempered by an undercurrent of fear. That didn’t really make sense to Bernt, though he noted that it at least didn't harbor any hostile feelings for him. As far as he could sense from it, it didn’t have any ill intent at all. It was elated, like a man who had just climbed a tall mountain and was looking down at the world below.

  In short, it wasn’t really listening.

  “I… I can’t grow,” he said, trying to generalize and draw its attention back. “I can’t take in new magic like a normal magical creature, and if I do it another way, it could make my spirit even more unbalanced.”

  The elemental tilted its head to the side and he could feel its mind working to interpret what he’d said. Was he damaged? So, not truly an otherworldly lifeform? His spirit had been jumbled and his fire had gone out, somehow, so he called for help to be relit in this cold place. Disappointing. The elemental’s attention began to wander as it looked back toward their surroundings. Maybe there would be more interesting things to discover there.

  “No!” Bernt shook his head, frustrated. Did it think he was supposed to be an elemental? Or a full sorcerer, maybe? Whatever the case, they weren't communicating well. He needed to try something else. The elemental was in his head. There was no reason he shouldn't be able to understand what he understood, if only he let it.

  Closing his eyes, Bernt focused intently on his mana network, on what it meant to be a mage and how to grow as one. How investitures fused into augmentations to make stranger and more powerful magic possible. Then he visualized the sorcerous portion of his spirit, what it felt like to cast with it, how he understood it as a physically manifested portion of his soul, and his suspicions about not being able to develop it further from here if he couldn't find a way to consume other magical materials. Lastly, he considered how he thought it should feel, to be able to cast normally as a mage from both hands, or to manifest his spells instantly like sorcery. How his spells were supposed to draw compatible features from all his investitures, united into a harmonious whole – an augmentation.

  Lastly, for good measure, Bernt stopped holding his consciousness back from the elemental. Instead, he pushed his thoughts toward the creature’s mind, mixed with his frustration and the larger, nonverbal sense of what it felt like to be him. He wanted the elemental to feel transported, for a moment, into his own skin. To understand what he needed on a deeper, more intuitive level. He wasn’t looking for a specific kind of help, he just wanted his soul to work.

  The elemental recoiled a short distance and wobbled a little unsteadily before regaining its proper shape. Bernt held his breath, watching in suspense. Did it understand what he was trying to tell it? Would it know of any way to help? Most importantly, would it be willing to do so? Maybe he should pull out the materials he'd found...

  The spirit stared at him for a few seconds, then turned toward the shimmering haze of the confluence. So smoothly that Bernt almost missed it, its three-fingered hand shot out and snagged the lesser flame sprite that had been mindlessly circling it this entire time. The creature shivered slightly, but didn’t resist in the powerful elemental’s grip. Then it just melted, rolling up into a ball of roiling plasma.

  Bernt couldn’t read the huge elemental’s face – it barely had one – but he imagined it was frowning in concentration as it raised the flaming ball up in front of itself. The mass quivered oddly, then two tendrils grew out of it like runners from a plant, pushing in opposite directions and curling oddly as they went. Bernt watched in fascination, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

  Slowly, as the elemental warped the remains of the little spirit, order began to emerge from the chaos. There were a few familiar runes scattered among the unfamiliar shapes, and while he didn’t recognize its meaning, he could recognize one bit as a glyph by the way the nearby runes were positioned around it. The elemental was growing what looked like part of a mana network from scratch, using the flame sprite itself as source material.

  Before he could examine the investiture to try to guess what it did, it curled in on itself again, rolling up into an oblong mass that reminded Bernt oddly of a ball of roots. If a ball of roots could glow with its own internal fiery light, anyway.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Returning, the elemental placed its free hand back on the barrier, holding its strange creation back, out of reach. Bernt didn’t know how things worked on the elemental planes, exactly, but he didn't need to touch the elemental's hand again to interpret that posture. If there was one thing he’d learned from Grixit, it was that spirits loved to trade as much as any goblin hawker.

  Licking his lips nervously, he reached up to reestablish their connection and did his best to project curiosity about what it might be holding. When the elemental pushed an idea toward him, he opened himself up to it, trying to glimpse into the creature’s mind as deeply as he could.

  The strange, damaged entity wanted balance. He wanted unity – a spirit that was properly ignited and realized in the world, but also inert and not properly real. That, of course, was ridiculous. A contradiction. Nonsensical. There could be no unity, no melding together of what was and was not. But balance… balance didn’t require unity, only equilibrium. This was something that it understood, and something it could offer.

  Bernt pulled his mind back under control and looked up at the rolled up ball of power, still held out of reach. It didn't sound like the sort of bridging investiture he'd been hoping for, but... well, it was obviously power. Power from a giant sapient fire elemental, tailored specifically for him – a pyromancer. Bernt didn't have to consider long.

  "What do you want in exchange?"

  The response was immediate. The elemental’s wonder and confusion about this world – and about what it had gleaned from Bernt’s own thoughts – poured into his mind. It’s curiosity about this cold place and its cold life. Its unmoving magic that could cut a hole through the world. How could such a thing be possible? It wanted to see it, to understand, and in so doing to consume and transform it. It hungered for knowledge, for fuel, and for its own transformation and growth. His knowledge and his fuel.

  Bernt could feel it's genuine sincerity radiating from it like heat from a fire. It wanted to see the sights, to taste new things, and to study what it didn’t understand – motivations that any wizard could empathize with. What unsettled him, though, was that last bit. If he understood it right, it wanted a piece of him. Magic from another world.

  He squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. Power for power. It wasn’t unfair, but it didn't sound very safe, either.

  Should he do it? Could he, even?

  A sound rang out from behind him and Bernt's mind fuzzed. What… what was going on? He stared up at the giant elemental blankly. Why did this matter, again?

  The elemental’s confusion redoubled. They were trading. He wanted to trade for balance in his spirit. For power. It only wanted the unbalanced portion – the chaff. Just enough to study. Nothing he would miss, surely.

  More voices came from behind Bernt, off to his left somewhere, maybe. People, and some kind of hissing noise. He’d been waiting for that – it was supposed to be important.

  But… the elemental was holding something… that had been important, too. He wanted that, right? He could feel that the elemental wanted to give it to him. He just had to… what did he have to do?

  Confusion gave way to a sense of frustration that flowed from the elemental in a gut churning wave. He just had to agree.

  It didn’t sound too bad. The chaff. Unbalanced magic. If he could grow as he was supposed to, it would only be a blessing, right? Of course he could agree to that.

  The instant that he had the thought, something warm pushed into his extended right hand. It was uncomfortable, but only for a moment. Then, he felt something hot physically slither up inside his arm, under his skin. His shoulder erupted in searing agony, followed by his neck, the right side of his body and his right leg. Over the course of a second, the horrific burning sensation wormed its way through him, then it ripped something out of him. Bernt gasped, but he couldn’t move. It hurt, but the pain was only secondary to the awful, personal sense of violation that accompanied the more physical sensation.

  He wasn’t sure when he hit the ground, exactly, but the sand felt hot against his cheek. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. The entire right side of his body ached hollowly. He could see movement in front of him a short distance. There were people there, humans and a bearded dwarf with a burning dog. A hellhound. Two of the humans lay flat on the ground, sprawled over his ring of cold fire to create a bridge for the Duergar and the hellhound.

  The gray dwarf was calling out, louder than the rest. Bernt was sure that he was talking to him, but he couldn’t understand any of the words. This was all supposed to mean something. He was supposed to do something. What was it?

  Then, abruptly, they flinched back, falling silent. Several of the humans ducked down, looking terrified, but they didn't run.

  Flames blocked his view as the enormous elemental stepped in front of him and bent down. It had a shape, now – like that of a huge man made of fire. Frowning slightly, it placed the strange ball down on the ground, just outside the temperature barrier.

  “Take it,” came a fluttering whisper, like the roaring of a fire. “Movement, heat and life to balance stillness, cold, and death. Equilibrium. Yours.”

  Bernt stared at the elemental in dumb horror. It could talk! It had a face – no, it had his face. That wasn’t right at all. What had just happened? With dawning horror, Bernt focused his mind and tried to circulate mana through his channels, only to find that he couldn’t. The smooth loops that had cycled through his limbs were cut off, entire sections torn away. The elemental had stolen a part of his soul. Not his investitures, but many of the unshaped channels that coursed through his limbs, his torso and up into his head.

  He stared dumbly at the glowing bundle of power, then back up at the spirit. It was leaving – walking confidently away toward the south. Out of the corner of his eye, Bernt could see the hellhound and the cultists watching warily, but the elemental didn’t pay them any mind. It had gotten what it wanted and didn’t appear interested in meeting any more locals.

  The locals in question, as well as their demon masters, seemed similarly uninterested in provoking a confrontation. They eyed the elemental warily, but didn’t make any moves. The Duergar – which Bernt suspected was a warlock just like the one they’d captured beneath the Paladins’ Hall in Halfbridge – gestured to two of the cultists, who began to quietly circle the confluence, moving further away from the elemental as they did so. They were cutting off his escape.

  Without thinking about it, Bernt tried to shape a bolt of banefire to fling at the Duergar, but he couldn’t manifest the spellform with the incredible damage done to his spirit. He was running out of time. If he didn’t move soon, his protective temperature barrier would collapse, and if he couldn’t cast… but that wasn’t quite true. His sorcerous investiture might still work. It wouldn’t harm the hellhound, sure, but those two cultists...

  His eyes locked onto the tangled mass in front of him that had been a flame sprite’s spirit. The enormous elemental hadn’t meant to harm him. He’d been in its head, and it really did think that it had a solution for him. On the other hand, though, it had also genuinely thought that he wouldn’t mind having a large part of his entire mana network – his soul – torn out of his body. What other changes would a creature like that consider unproblematic? Would it even work? And if it did, would he still be himself?

  Could he make it? He wasn’t going to be able to outrun a hellhound for long, but he had to try something. He had to run, and he had to fight, somehow. Better if it wasn’t all of them at once, though. He needed just a little time. Time enough to try just one more thing. The elemental had left him in a terrible position, but they'd had a deal. Power for power.

  The frozen moment of indecision felt like an eternity, but it ended in an instant as the dwarf’s eyes locked onto him with feverish intensity. They were black all the way through.

  Before it could open its mouth, Bernt grabbed at balled up investiture in front of him. It felt smooth, slightly springy and impossibly light in his hand. He pushed off, heading north at a run. He needed to get out of earshot and work out how to absorb it into himself, somehow, and he needed to do it now.

  He burst out of his heat barrier into air so searing hot that it felt cold. His eyes ached as the moisture evaporated from them in an instant. He gasped involuntarily, drawing the insane heat into his lungs and coughed roughly. It sounded wrong. He stumbled to a stop, and looked around, skin burning. It hurt, but… somebody was calling to him. Why was he running?

  It was so hot.

  Bernt’s lungs burned. He knew he should do something. He was supposed to run, to get past the two cultists. He only needed a little time. Disoriented, he fell to his knees, and then flat onto the ground. The pain was indescribable, and it was spreading. He was dying.

  Only when it reached his head did Bernt realize that the fire was now coming from inside.