83rd of Season of Fire, 57th year of the 32nd cycle

  Greenbow or First, as she seemed to prefer to be called, appeared angry with him. Newt knew why. She waited for him to leave the Valley of the Lost for weeks, and when he finally left, he told her next to nothing. And the bit he did tell her, she did not seem to believe.

  After narrating the parts he deemed safe to share, she would have dismissed them as utter nonsense, if not for the fistful of fourth realm cores. Thanks to the cores, she went silent, making sure their ship was taking them home.

  At first, Newt had an urge to break the silence, then he chose to use his time to cultivate below deck. The ship cut through the waves, a spell formation keeping the inside from rocking, and Newt’s mind sank into his realm without difficulty.

  He appeared dead center inside his realm, at the top of the volcano, right next to the bubbling lake of lava. The view was lacking, Magmin trees breaking Newt’s line of sight. In a rare moment of curiosity, he climbed the nearest pine and gazed upon his realm. Just under half of it was visible, revealing a sparse, black forest, surrounded by an open plain with rivers of lava and protruding rock formations.

  The glyphs and runic formations, with which he had improved his fire abilities, glowed red against the black landscape, promising speed, power, control, and a myriad other enhancements to the flames Newt wielded.

  The rock formations were more difficult to read. They protruded from the ground, obscuring each other, rather than forming neat writing and a web of glowing spell formations. Still, Newt could feel the concepts embodied in them as he focused on specific pieces of terrain.

  Hardness, weight, protection. Most of them came with solid, weighty ideas, but some of his latest work differed from the rest. Then there were the empty plots of land, giant swaths devoid of runes, which Dandelion had planned for Newt to store his energy in, but with Newt’s plan to follow the path of magma and molten rock, that portion needed reconsideration.

  “What I need to do is make something that can separate magma into earth and fire. That should increase my options once I merge my elements.” Until then, the spell formations would provide no benefit. But using techniques of both elements at the same time allowed Newt to use either element indefinitely as long as he was willing to waste twice the energy on doing so.

  Newt sighed. He was a long way away from figuring out how to scribe that spell formation, let alone being proficient enough to set it up.

  “Is there a way to integrate danger sense into the use of elements?” Newt considered the matter. Having a shield which reinforced the area which would suffer an attack, or retributory attacks similar to Firewall but which damaged his enemies before their blows landed sounded extremely useful.

  “That would be nice, but I have more immediate issues.” Newt observed the layout of the terrain, and compared it with what he remembered from the map Dandelion had plotted out for him. “How am I supposed to add fire runes there, when the lava flow is nowhere near?”

  He had asked himself the same question dozens of times, never finding the answer. Dandelion’s blueprint only made sense if new streams of lava appeared out of thin air.

  Newt shook his head, he would make the blueprint work one day, somehow. Until then, he would work on the patches of his realm he could cultivate. He spent another minute admiring the glowing patterns before getting to work.

  His study on volcanic rocks was paying dividends as he restructured the third realm glyphs, making their substance adhere to the concept they were meant to embody. The only lingering regret from that discovery was that he could not return to his earlier realms and reinforce the glyphs or the Magmin Pines. The difference in their effectiveness would be minor, but over the years and centuries those fractions would add up.

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  “I’m being greedy. Imagine if I had learned about rock composition in the sixth or seventh realm, I would’ve been devastated.” With the way the realms worked and expanded, the higher the realm, the larger the expanse, so what Newt could marginally improve was a small part of his current cultivation, and a grain of sand once he ascended to the higher realms. Yet the inefficiency still irked him.

  Newt shaped a rune which could best be described as ‘utility’ using tuff, a type of volcanic sandstone he discovered mortals often used in sculpting, construction, and tool-making.

  “Are there different types of flames?” The thought struck him just as he infused the ‘utility’ glyph with the symbolically linked material.

  “And if there are, can I produce them out of the lava flowing through my realm? Does fire in my realm need to come from lava? Can I just make ever-burning flames?”

  One question followed another, and they soon spiraled out of control. Newt reined in his thoughts, coming with a two-word-answer for all of them - the library.

  He continued his work, making sure to note all the questions which appeared in his mind, when a chime drew him out of cultivation.

  “We’re back home,” Greenbow said, standing at the door, filling the vast majority of its frame.

  They climbed up, and Newt saw the light of the full moon shining on the shimmering water and the black sand, which looked like an abyss in the night. Everything else had dim outlines, painted in various dark shades of their original colors, but the sand was pitch black, like a hole waiting to swallow them.

  Greenbow jumped down on the pier, landing impossibly lightly on the planks given her size. Newt followed, a steady stream of hot air consuming his momentum, allowing him to step gracefully onto the pier as if walking on clouds.

  “Your teammates have already submitted your mission and your merit has been noted, so there’s no need to visit the Chamber of Instruction. We should head over to Master’s residence and tell her you’re safely back.” Greenbow glared at Newt. “She’s been worried sick about you.”

  She has? Master usually looks like she wants to beat me up, not like she’s worried about me.

  Newt decided to keep quiet about his observation and followed his eldest sister deeper into the island than he had ever been before. He passed a large settlement with standardized, normal-sized houses surrounded with flower and vegetable gardens. Some had gazebos and benches for sitting outside, while residents of others had added porches to their homes to change the identical layout.

  Further along the path lay a swath of jungle, the trees’ crowns encroaching upon the path, hiding the stars. Then a portion of the jungle disappeared to the right, revealing a paved path surrounded by a well-trimmed lawn with cultivated bushes, flowers, and ponds, leading to a dark outline of a massive building.

  Another path led to the left, disappearing into the jungle, while the main road continued ahead. Unlike the inner disciple section and the one Newt just passed, save for their size, plots of land were all different in the settlement for inner elders.

  Newt observed buildings and gardens that seemed to have come from different cultures and different epochs, all perfectly maintained. Finally, they stopped in front of a palace so white, it glowed in the moonlight.

  As they approached, the door opened, and Elder Alabaster stepped out, framed by the bright light. Behind her followed a shriveled old woman, who looked like a mortal over one hundred years old.

  “Greetings, Master, Elder.” Greenbow bowed, and Newt mimicked the polite gesture.

  He did not recognize the old woman, but by the way Elder Alabaster politely held the door to her and motioned her to walk ahead, it was obvious she was important and outclassed his master in the sect hierarchy.

  “I will debrief you before you speak with your master, young man.” The old woman walked past Newt without breaking stride, never doubting for a moment that he would follow after her. “We are heading to the Chamber of Punishment.”

  Greenbow’s shoulders tensed, her whole-body twitch signaling how she had stopped herself from spinning around to look at Newt or the old woman.

  “Newstar,” Elder Alabaster spoke, “follow the disciplinary venerable.”

  The head of the Chamber of Punishment? That exhausted-looking old woman? She’s barely keeping her eyes open.

  Newt remained still for the barest of moments as those thoughts raced through his mind, but his master immediately started glaring death at him. He spun on his heel and followed the tired granny leading the way.

  Yeah, Master was obviously worried sick about me. That’s why she’s got murder in her eyes when she looks at me.

  “Thanks for the sack and for escorting me, Greenbow. I’ll return it soon.”

  At least he was decent, his sect robes tidy. Newt was certain that visiting the venerable in charge of sect discipline with his uniform turned into a sack for carrying cores and gems was a breach of decorum.