Chapter 5

  Your mind must always be open to the future, if it lingers in the past, then you might as well be standing still.

  -Collected Teachings of the Exalted Sovereign

  The two Ignited walked out of the east gate of Dasos, heading opposite the direction that Zenovia had returned from the day prior. Her armor was pristine now, the cracked plates having sealed themselves up naturally overnight. Phaidros had never gone outside of the wall all of his life except for a few trips into the Merchant’s District outside of the northwest gate with his father. Unlike that gate, this one led directly out into the jungle, with not a single tree cleared before the gate proper. The jungle always unnerved him, the way the trees and ferns swayed in the distance like they were writhing against invisible binds, the distant sounds and cries of beasts he couldn’t see. He hadn’t known how his father and brother did it, but today he surprised himself with how he could walk alongside Zenovia with relative ease. The ignited soul most likely played a part in that.

  “You’ve got a lot on your mind, I’m sure,” Zenovia said, breaking the silence between them. “And a lot of questions on top of that. What you don’t have is time for me to sit here and explain everything to you, so I will be going through the basics and you’re going to listen so I don’t have to repeat myself, understand?”

  Phaidros blinked. “Understood, Zenovia.” He was thankful for her help at all, though he could sense some tension behind her voice. Something was bothering her, but Phaidros did not have the courage to ask.

  Zenovia nodded. “You’re ignited now. You’ve probably already noticed some of what that entails”—Phaidros thought of how his vision already seemed to be improved tenfold, but didn’t speak up to interrupt her—“and seen what an Ignited can do from duels in The Ring. An Ignited is stronger than the average person, faster both in how they can react to their environment and physically so. They can heal from wounds that naturally might leave men in hospitals for months at a time like broken bones and concussions. All of your senses have been enhanced and if it weren’t for you being ignited, you wouldn’t be able to process all the information probably going through that helmet of yours right now.” She tapped on his visor a few times hard enough to make his head push back a little. “In simpler terms, you are more alive than the average living being, qualitatively so, and have a greater connection to all of life around you than normal beings with inert potential.”

  Phaidros had heard this much before, but never quite so spelled out for him. He always heard it as the Ignited being heroes among all living things, closer to the Exalted Sovereign than anything else. Whenever he asked his father about this, the man always just grinned at him and said he didn’t want to ruin the surprise when Phaidros became ignited. The stray thought made Phaidros grow solemn again, his father dreamed of this day, and yet he never lived to see it. The downward spiral of thoughts was interrupted by a knock atop his head by Zenovia shoving at him. “Hey, I said pay attention.”

  “Sorry, Zenovia,” Phaidros said. “I was just thinking about how my father would have wished to teach me all of this.”

  Zenovia paused. Silence lingered between the two of them and they had ceased walking, now surrounded by nothing but trees and the ambient sounds of the jungle. She eventually let out a frustrated sigh. “I know he would have. He mentioned it often, how he was sure you would come around to igniting soon enough and that we’d have our ‘fourth hunting partner.’” Phaidros was about to speak again but Zenovia cut him off with a raised finger. “But we don’t have time for that now and I won’t have him haunting me because I was too busy letting you cry over his death to stop you from dying right along with him.”

  The words made Phaidros go stiff. “R-right,” he answered, his voice straining more than he intended.

  A heavy silence fell as Zenovia stood up straight again, a clear attempt to collect herself and remember where she was in her explanation. “Let me teach you about life sense.” The mood didn’t recover with the topic change, but Phaidros glanced over to her and nodded. “It is the innate ability of all Ignited to gain an intrinsic sense to all that lives around them.” She gestured around them as they spoke. “Sit.” She reached over and pushed down on his shoulder. Phaidros complied, dropping down to his knees. Zenovia joined him, sitting across from him with her rifle now across her lap as she took a deep breath. “It’ll become easier with time, but for the first attempt, I will try to guide you how to do it. Take off your helmet for now.” The two pulled off their helmets, Zenovia setting hers in front of her and Phaidros mimicked her. “Now close your eyes.” Phaidros did so. “Take a deep breath and listen to the jungle around you.”

  Phaidros wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but listened as instructed, it was a welcome distraction from where their conversation was going prior. Around him he heard the creak and groan of aged trees in the distance. He kept listening and picked out the droning hum of insects with the songs of birds creating a chaotic melody all their own. A snap broke through the song followed by the flutter of wings and the hiss of some unknown beast. Phaidros tried to feel for some deeper meaning beneath it all but was coming up short. “I don’t see–”

  “Quiet,” Zenovia cut him off. “You’re not trying to understand life, just feel it.”

  Phaidros wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be ‘feeling’ but his failure to do so was starting to make him anxious as he sat there. He once more tried to focus, but rogue thoughts began to creep into his head. They were reminders of the price of failure, of his dead father. The sounds of life continuing as normal around him ate into his consciousness and through the warmth of his ignited potential. The chaotic melody he had heard before seemed to intensify into a cacophony of noises that all screamed to him that he was going to die. “I don’t know if this is working,” he said, voice strained and eyes snapping open.

  Zenovia opened hers and she glared at him with an intensity that made Phaidros regret speaking. Whatever anxiety Phaidros was feeling in the moment, it was clear either Zenovia didn’t pick up on his internal struggle, or didn’t care. “Very well,” she said with an edge to her words as she picked up her helmet and secured it back onto her head. “We’ll get right into physical training.”

  Phaidros welcomed the news, standing back up and securing his helmet into place. Maybe physical work would be better than trying to figure out life sense; anything was better than being alone with his thoughts. “Alright, what did you have in mind?”

  “I’m going to hunt you,” she replied flatly.

  “You’re going to what?”

  “You don’t want to focus, you keep talking about Za, so I’m going to give you something else to think about until you realize the severity of the situation you’re in.”

  “So what, you’re just going to chase me around the jungle and–” A gunshot landed right at his feet. The sudden noise and fear of injury made Phaidros leap back. His newfound strength and the assistance of his armor carried him farther than he intended and he slammed back into a tree. The back ridges of his armor cut sharp lines through the tree’s bark before he hit the ground.

  “We’re finished today when I crack each plate of your armor and not a moment before. If you stand there and let yourself get hit in defiance, you’ll get no training and die at the end of the month if you don’t cinder before then.”

  “You’re insane!” Phaidros said, fear prevalent in his voice. She shot him again. The bullet slammed into his shoulder plate and cracked it, a single shell lodged into the center of a spider web of cracks while the impact of the blow itself sent him back against the tree.

  “Talk back to me like that again and the next shot’s going to be your head,” Zenovia hissed. “Your armor will protect you, now get running. You’ll be considered to ‘pass’ when you manage to make me miss or you parry a shot with your sword.”

  “Make you miss? Is that really that hard?” Phaidros asked, though he was already edging to the side of the tree while Zenovia kept her rifle trained on him.

  “I don’t miss,” she answered flatly. She fired right before Phaidros could wheel around the tree out of sight. The shot caught him on the gauntlet, cracking the plating near the joint.

  He didn’t need any more words of encouragement and sprinted off into the jungle away from Zenovia. The armor carried him further with each step than he was used to, though he was sure some of it was part of his newly ignited soul. Behind him he heard the sound of rockets igniting and Phaidros was sure that it was Zenovia taking to the trees to follow him. His first instinct was to hide, but she would just use life sense and find him immediately. He needed a plan, any plan. Before such a plan could arise a crack pierced through the air and a bullet pierced through one of the back plates of Phaidros’ armor. He panicked, scrambling to the side behind more tree cover but not before three more plates were compromised. How many did he have left? At the thought, his visor’s display showed a holographic display of his armor with cracked plates highlighted in yellow. He was fine for now, but for how long? His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming over the communications, Zenovia’s. A small circle appeared on the side of his heads up display, ringed in blue. “It would be really helpful to know where to run right now if you could use life sense wouldn’t it?” she taunted.

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  He had intended to reply, but he was much too busy running from the woman shooting at him. Phaidros leaped over a fallen log, the motion carried him high into the air and he lost control. He began to flail his limbs, careful of his sword before the plates on the back of his legs opened up and the rockets sent him further skyward. That so happened to be the perfect path to smack face first into the branch of a tree. The ensuing collision snapped the branch off entirely while it sent Phaidros into a backwards flip while still sailing forward. More shots followed, more plates were cracked, each shot landing with perfect precision before he finally hit the ground in a tumble, his sword skidding away from him. He crawled for it as quickly as he could but he was disoriented from the fall. The grass crunched behind him. Oh no were the last thoughts that went through his head before he saw the plate integrity of his suit drop rapidly. The crack of gunfire shook him physically while his mind screamed at him to curl up into a ball while the fire in his soul urged him onwards. He reached for his sword and grabbed it, then tried to roll onto his back while swinging, hoping to stop a bullet by chance. Instead his hand connected with a boot, sending the sword flying out of his grasp. The heel then swung back and cracked his face plate, the last few shots taking out the remaining plates on the front of his armor.

  The echoes of the last shots rang through the air, Zenovia still had one foot planted on his head as she raised up the barrel of her rifle, smoke spilling from the tip. Phaidros’ body still shook and he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins as he caught his breath. He wanted to yell at Zenovia, but fear prevented him from doing so. Instead, he let out a meek, “You could have killed me.”

  Her visor turned down towards him and she let the heavy silence linger for longer than he liked before she shoved her boot off his head. “I didn’t,” she replied in what Phaidros could swear was a growl. She crouched down to look at him, rifle resting against her shoulder. Even through the helmet Phaidros could feel her sneer. “If you think that this was difficult, then you’re going to be too shaken to take a single step when you see that beast. So, all things considered, I think this was great practice.” She knocked on his helmet a few times. “You got some idea of how well the armor protects you and your first taste of maneuvering with it, even if you failed spectacularly.” Phaidros couldn’t help but note how satisfied with herself she sounded. If the rest of her training was going to be like this, he was worried for his mental state by the end of it. “Now, your armor will repair itself by tomorrow, and we’ll get to do it all over again.”

  “Are we done, then?” Phaidros asked. She was pulling off her helmet again but paused.

  Then she laughed at him. “Ash and cinders, boy. You think I’m going to let you off the hook after just a few minutes of chasing you through the jungle? Get up.”

  Phaidros felt embarrassed as he reached for his sword and then pulled himself to his feet. “What now then?”

  “We can’t go hunting yet, you’re just going to embarrass yourself even more than you already have. So, you’ve run from me, now you’re going to try and hit me.” She walked away from him to go put her helmet to the side. “I won’t run from it or anything, just dodge as I would against an opponent that got close.”

  Phaidros hesitated for a moment, looking from her to the helmet she discarded. “Then why are you putting your helmet away?”

  “Because you’re a little spark and if you could hit me, you probably also would still be running from me right now.”

  The constant taunting and the fresh hell she just made him go through chasing him through the jungle and shooting at him finally was beginning to grind on Phaidros’ nerves. His grip on his sword tightened while Zenovia just kept looking at him with a smug grin on her face. “Fine,” Phaidros answered and got into a stance, blade pointed out and ahead of him towards Zenovia. He had only been trained in traditional sword fighting outside of armor. He wasn’t sure how it translated with the armor, but he was sure this was where he would be able to show Zenovia he meant business. A moment of silence passed between them, then Phaidros struck.

  It was a simple, diagonal chop across her shoulder as he shuffled forward. The air whistled as it arced through the air with speed Phaidros wasn’t used to but even so Zenovia easily backed up out of the way. When Phaidros followed it up with a stab she weaved to the side, still smirking at him as she circled around him. “Come on, you used a blade before right? Hit me,” she taunted.

  Phaidros lunged for her again, striking at her with quick, efficient chops of his blade while Zenovia deftly and gracefully dodged once, twice, then on the third she brought her armored boot up to parry the blow. Such a move would have been ridiculous if she hadn’t been Ignited but the power of the blow knocked Phaidros’ sword aside.

  “You’re holding back,” she noted. “You saw how your brother fought didn’t you? You’re Ignited now, you’re not limited to conventional fighting. Hit. Me.”

  Phaidros grit his teeth, swinging with more force this time, utilizing the new strength of his ignited soul and aided by his armor. The force created a rush of wind in its wake but still Zenovia twisted underneath the slash and slammed her boot into his back, knocking him off balance and stumbling forward. “Better. Now just stop fighting like you’re swatting a fly.” Phaidros came at her again. He struck at her in wide sweeps that normally might have caught him off balance, if he were not Ignited. There was no such downside this time and unlike with the training prior, Phaidros was picking up on it much more naturally. Soon enough they were no longer confined to the clearing that they had started in. Zenovia began to dodge him by running up and kicking off of trees to get around him. She’d coax him to strike low before rocketing upwards into a spinning kick at his head. The blow sent him spiraling into a tree. Phaidros was not nearly coordinated enough yet to be able to mimic that, but he took mental notes every time Zenovia knocked him off his feet. He hadn’t hit her a single time over the course of hours.

  The sun was beginning to set now and Zenovia looked like she had barely lost her breath despite moving around far more liberally than Phaidros had been. Phaidros was also fine physically, but mentally he was beginning to feel the futility of it all creeping back into the edge of his mind. His strikes became frustrated lashes towards the Ignited across from him as they continued to not find purchase. Then in a sudden change of pace, Zenovia rushed at him, easily ducking under his blows as a powerful, rocket-aided kick threw Phaidros from his feet before hitting the dirt. “That’s enough for one day.”

  “What do you mean?” Phaidros asked, offended.

  “You’re only getting frustrated, I can see it,” she answered, “So you’re going to spend the night making sure your armor repairs and think about how you’re going to do better tomorrow.”

  “As if it’ll be that easy,” Phaidros said with a huff.

  “It won’t be,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “And you’ll thank the Exalted Sovereign that it isn’t, and me, when this is all over. Welcome to the war, Phaidros, now fight for your right to live in it, like your father did.”

  The words sent him reeling. If he had to commend Zenovia on one thing, she had done what she had set out to do. He had spent the whole day not thinking about him; he was too busy either running for his life or trying to wipe that smug grin off her face. Now with a few words she sent him back into reality with a greater force than any bullet or kick she landed on him today. He sat in stunned silence before he couldn’t meet her gaze any longer. His helmet felt suffocating and he pulled it off his head and threw it to the side. He took deep breaths, emerald eyes unable to look back up. “I will,” he said, ending the silence.

  He could feel her eyes on him, the weight of her expectation being a heavy burden on top of what already felt overwhelming. “You can say that all you want, ‘I will’ ‘I’ll try’; if you want me and everyone else to believe it, then do it. You have a Shaped Beast ahead of you and a fire at your heels. You have no choice now except to move forward or get burned.”

  Phaidros finally gathered the strength to look up to Zenovia. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but felt the need to say something, anything. “What was it like?” he inevitably asked. “To fight the beast.”

  Zenovia paused, she clearly expected more pushback from Phaidros, not this. Her gaze shifted from judgmental to distant in a single moment. She sat down across from him, visibly pausing before speaking. “It wasn’t a long fight,” she began, “but I had never felt more useless in all of my days.” Phaidros could hardly believe that with how soundly Zenovia beat him across the jungle. “When you become Ignited, things aren’t supposed to scare you like they used to. You spend your every waking hour fighting past all that and just…” She trailed off before shaking her head. “All of it goes out the window as soon as that thing comes stalking through the trees. Let me tell you, Phaidros. I’ve fought in wars in far-off places, seen a lot of the galaxy and what all is out there. I’ve seen Shaped before, ash, I’ve seen Defined change the course of an entire battle. You think all of that prepares you, then you’re sitting in a tree, firing your entire magazine into some beast that’s acting like you’re some annoying gnat pricking at its skin while it kills your friends.” Her eyes narrowed, one fist clenched as she stared off at nothing.

  The jungle around them filled in the long silence, making it seem to stretch into eternity. Phaidros did not have the right words to say to her at that moment, but he could feel a twisted blend of pity and resentment. On one hand, they were feeling the same sense of loss, but on the other she had just added to his own feeling of uselessness by how poorly he thought she had taught him today. Perhaps if she had been stronger his father would still be alive right now, perhaps if she was a better teacher, the mixing of anger and fear in his gut wouldn’t make it so hard to empathize with her. He set his jaw, then got to his feet. “Then perhaps we both have some growing to do.” She glared at him and Phaidros felt an instinctual need to shrink down but fought against it. Zenovia said nothing and Phaidros soon walked off, leaving Zenovia there in the jungle, alone. It was going to be a long month.