The Council observes Emily’s display with intrigue, none of them showing any signs of concern as she releases her mana, fully trusting the blessing they called in.

  “Technomancer?” The First Wing questions, resting her hands flat on her legs folded beneath her, only breaking eye contact for a moment to glance at Emily’s machina. “It is not a title I recognise. Does it bear relation to the impressive sky ship you rode in on or your curious company?”

  “It means I weave both magic and machines with equal dexterity,” she says while drawing a stream of spare parts and scrap material from her belt with her energies, near thoughtlessly assembling a small clockwork bird and sending it fluttering out to circle the fire. “And therefore, yes, it bears relation to both. Elisime is one of my greatest creations, and my curious company contains two others: my children, Mensacus and Silica. It also contains my mechanical apprentice, Podrick Rockworth; and my magical friends, Marquess Virgil Hibiscus and his son, Dante.”

  “The demon is your spawn?” Sala questions without malice in her tone, her eyes flickering over to the mechanical chimaera staring back. “I mean no offence, but I find that surprising. His presence carries such hatred, tainted by the touch of death, that it’s hard to reconcile with the image of an obedient child I see before me.”

  Murmurs of assent spread around the fire, all eyes focusing on Emily in a sea of unnatural shades shining with caution and intrigue.

  “He is a consciousness born of cursed sacrifice and controlled care,” she explains with a cold smile, reaching her metal hand towards him and letting out a stream of crackling energy from her fingertips. “I encountered a fragment of the living darkness dwelling in the deepest parts of Ulea on one of my travels, submerged in a blood-filled lake surrounded by corpses.”

  Her mana and machina dance across Mensacus’ metal skin in a comforting embrace that he relaxes into, letting her split the panels of his chest open like a blooming flower. She floats out the cursed tooth that constitutes his core, leaving it tethered to his body by his own magic while she wraps it in a protective shell of her own.

  “I sealed it at first to study later, but my seal wasn’t perfect, and over time, Mensacus managed to feed on enough of my quarry to gain a shred of awareness and make me aware of his loyalty.”

  Concentrated malice oozes from every pore of the small tooth covered in pulsing dark veins, and everyone watches with combined fascination and horror as Emily proudly shows off her child’s heart. Dante, Pod, and the few low circle Lebard mages in the tent all begin to sweat at the pressure of his unleashed presence, and the weakest of them begin hearing faint whispers brushing the edge of their awareness’.

  “Then it was a simple matter of feeding him and creating the perfect vessel to hold him,” she says while finally pushing his core back into its cage and sealing it back up.

  “What exactly does he feed on?” one of the men clad in the pale grey of clan Lisori asks.

  “Your fear is delicious,” Mensacus answers with a taunting grin, causing the man to flinch back and the other two of his clan to frown.

  ‘Though their respect is pungent too,’ the chimaera whispers into his mother’s mind at the same time, letting his abyssal eyes drift across all of their hosts.

  “He primarily feeds on death,” Emily continues as if he said nothing. “But he can also consume normal food if he so chooses; it simply won’t help his development.”

  “That clears most of my confusion, thank you,” Sala says, retaking control of the conversation without sparing the Lisori mage who spoke a single glance. “So, Technomancer, I understand you have an interest in observing our ways?”

  “Yes.” Emily nods. “The Third Wing has shown me a glimpse of your people’s daily lives and your gods watching over them, but I would love a closer look at both your rituals and ceremonies, and your land’s boons. There are many plants and creatures on your isle that don’t inhabit the shores I stem from.”

  “You wish to see our sacred traditions? As an outsider? You may speak our tongue, but even for that, our hospitality can only stretch so far.”

  Emily ignores the grumbled doubt spreading through the tent, calling on her lightning connection and silencing their complaints as her eyes light up with an azure glow and charge flows from her skin.

  “I do believe I hold enough knowledge to make you a worthwhile offer if you’ll hear me out,” she says, weaving her raging mana into a savage, near-solid feline that wraps around her protectively, casting its gaze over her hosts with such life-like hatred in its stormy eyes they could mistake it for a living beast. “I am willing to share my knowledge of the two other main paths of magic that vary from the one you walk, and I’m open to swearing myself to secrecy on your behalf. If you want, I won’t share anything I learn from you with anyone on this planet, bar my children and apprentice.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Sala nods, finally tearing her gaze away from Emily’s party and turning to her Council with a thoughtful expression.

  “Would anyone like to voice their opinions?”

  “I have a question,” a bald woman with deep blue fractals inked across her skull says, raising her hand and drawing all eyes to her. “Technomancer, I’m Hia, head of clan Hisori, First Eye of The Drowned One. To which patron do you hail for that power?”

  “This magic is unlike yours; it’s wholly my own,” Emily explains, brushing her hand across her lightning cat’s back and feeling the magic push back, so dense it’s like fur tickling her skin, quivering with the beast’s purrs. “While it skips forming an external runic circle, as most Modo mages would require, like your own faith-based casting can, I’m drawing from my connection with the element itself instead of a patron. This is one of the magical paths I mentioned.”

  Hia nods in understanding and turns her gaze back to Sala.

  After a few moments, another mage raises their hand, this one a man with dark skin and fiery red hair of a similar shade to Virgil’s. His bright orange eyes burn with intensity as he looks at Emily, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he reveals a set of vicious, sharpened fangs.

  “I’m Chia, head of clan Chisori, First Fang of The Burned One,” he all but growls, his voice deep and gravelly. “You offer this information freely, but to what level of depth do you intend to share? To what degree do you expect us to do the same?”

  “I will gladly share nearly everything I know on the two paths themselves, from their names, specialisations, strengths, and weaknesses, to even some of the progression requirements within them,” Emily replies, releasing her connection and dismissing her conjuration, letting the lightning cat dissipate in a burst of charge. “If you’re willing to swear yourselves to secrecy, I’m even willing to exchange some information on the requirements to step into the fifth circle within those paths.”

  Shocked chatter spreads through the tent in an instant.

  “That’s blasphemy!” Chia barks. “You speak so casually of touching on the divine.”

  “I do nothing of the sort. I simply speak of progression, a singular goal for all of us who gather strength, is it not? While I admire the strength your faith gives you, you should not be blinded by it. I, for one, am certain in the method I shall use to continue my growth, and I’m simply offering to share details on that,” she continues, failing to mollify the affronted Council. “If it reassures you, I can only speak for my branches of magic. The energy you all carry is notably different from mine in a way I’m yet to identify, so it could be said your ‘divine energy’ is of a different nature. Maybe the fifth circle I speak of is still below your gods?”

  Though he doesn’t appear happy, Chia exchanges glances with his fellows before huffing and nodding, settling back down and gesturing for her to continue from where he interrupted.

  “As for what I expect from you? I simply ask you to return my generosity in kind as far as your laws and religion will allow. My study of alchemy has given me a certain appreciation for equivalent exchange.”

  “You’re an alchemist as well?” a woman with flowing hazel locks and pale green eyes cuts in with an interested quirk of her brow. “Sorry, I’m Via, head of clan Visori and First Mouth of The Scattered One. Do you intend to trade alchemy knowledge too? That’s my question if you’re satisfied,” she adds, glancing at Chia for confirmation after the fact.

  “I’m willing to share my knowledge on procedures, methods, and observed phenomena, but I’d like to hold most of my exact recipes close to the chest,” Emily answers smoothly. “The same goes for my spells. I’ll gladly share a few basic forms and lower circle cantrips, but the methods to make the vast majority of my creations will remain untold.”

  Via nods enthusiastically and sits back, turning to have a silent conversation with her clanmates.

  Emily watches the other Councillors casting gazes amongst themselves, having a fierce unspoken debate before their eyes all slowly gravitate to the last clan to ask a question of her.

  “Haa, fine,” sighs the man in the centre of the Lisori mages, with Akisa on one side and the man Mensacus taunted on the other. “I’m Lia, head of clan Lisori and First Talon of The Buried One. Regardless of what you’re willing to give, what is it you actually want? You say you want to observe our rituals, and before you even arrived here, you expressed an interest in gaining access to the burning mountains, but why? Surely you have more reason than intellectual curiosity.”

  “Never question the lengths I’ll go to to satisfy my curiosity,” Emily says, fixing him with a serious gaze. “I believe the greatest magical strength and development comes only with the greatest breadth of experience. The more I know of magic and its many methods of use, the closer I come to perfecting my control. I want to observe your spellcasting and rituals because while I know of the branch of magic you practice, I’ve never truly seen it in action, and I think doing so will give me inspiration.”

  Nods and murmured understanding spread as the Council take in Emily’s philosophy.

  “To the same end, I want to experience the burning mountains because I do dabble in fire, but I’m yet to establish a connection as deep as I have with lightning, metal, and even water. Observing the area with the densest fire mana in the world should hopefully aid in that. The only thing I want from you that I think some of you may take issue with is some salvianross.”

  Several councillors tense up, rousing their mana and narrowing their eyes as Emily raises her hands placatingly.

  “I had a sample, but I used it up helping to identify a salvianross-based drug Modo is currently being attacked with. I’m not implicating you by any means, but I would like to ask for a seed to cultivate my own strain of the plant. The Third Wing brought to my attention your use of the plant in mind healing, and I happen to have an affliction I’m exploring methods to treat.”

  “For yourself, or others?” Via asks.

  “Myself. If it reassures you, I can vow that not a single salvianross plant grown by my hand will be sold, gifted, or exchanged with another party on this planet?” Emily replies seemingly in goodwill, weaving several loopholes into the verbal agreement.

  “If it’s for medicine,” Sala says, glancing over the god’s limbs and receiving agreeing gestures all around. “Then that will be sufficient. We agree to an exchange with you, Technomancer. If you have no other terms to discuss, we can bind this agreement by The Great One’s name and celebrate our future friendship?”

  Another form of magical contract?

  “Of course.” Emily nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  Patreon!