Immanent Ascension

The next morning, the atmosphere in the dorm room was tense. As they readied for breakfast before morning assembly, Enusat quietly told the story of the previous night, while constantly glancing at Xerxes out of the corner of his eye.

When he finished, Kashtliash said, “Well, shit.”

After that, Xerxes could tell that they were waiting for him to chime in, but he wasn’t in the mood.

Finally, Jad said, “If Randy— if Gandash reported you last night, there would already be people knocking on our door.”

“True,” Kashtiliash said.

“I guess you’re right,” Enusat said. “But… ‘e could always say something later.” Yet again, he glanced pointedly at Xerxes.

“I’ll talk to him,” Xerxes said. Back on Mannemid, he and Gandash had gotten into mischief, often with Bel at their side during their time at the Academy. None of them had been snitches. He had faith that his friend wouldn’t rat him out. However, there was more at stake here. He needed to talk to Gandash.

Unfortunately, throughout that day, whether it was by accident or design, Gandash always seemed to be with other people, leaving Xerxes no opportunity to talk to him. After dinner, when the Seers were supposed to be meditating or studying runes, Xerxes finally just walked over to his dorm.

When he knocked on the door, a grim-faced Seer with the short hair of an Al-Ga native opened the door.

“Yeah?”

“I want to talk to Gandash.”

“Oh, it’s you. Hold on.”

The door closed.

Xerxes backed away, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms. A moment later, Gandash opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

“What,” he said, more of a statement than a question.

Xerxes looked up and down the hall. “About last night….”

“What about it?”

“Are we… are we cool?”

Gandash’s jaw jutted out. “Cool? No. We are not ‘cool.’ But am I going to report you? No.”

“I can explain what was—”

“Don’t,” Gandash interrupted. “I don’t care. Look, Xerk, you’re welcome to do whatever you want with your new friends. But I’m not going to do anything like this again. Ever again.”

“Fine. It’s not going to happen again.”

Gandash turned back to the door.

“Gandy.”

Gandash looked back. “What.”

Xerxes took a breath, held it for one second. Then two seconds. He exhaled. “Never mind. Just… thanks. I owe you.”

Without another word, Gandash walked into his dorm room and shut the door behind him. The lock clicked.

It took a day or two for things to smooth out with the Humusi Swordmasters. However, when it became clear that there wouldn’t be any repercussions from the escapade, Enusat and Jad became visibly relaxed and more jovial.

By the end of the week, everything was back to normal, except with Gandash. They hadn’t talked much or interacted very often in the academy, but whenever they passed each other, they smiled and nodded. Now, Gandash didn’t notice him at all, or at least, he pretended not to notice.

That weekend, the Humusi Swordmasters didn’t argue when Xerxes said he wanted to spend the weekend meditating and studying.

Despite the lapse in progress over the previous days, he was still on a roll with his chamber of energy. Using the medicinal pills Shabadras had provided, he succeeded with two Flushes. After the second, he grinned as he realized he really did have a solid chance at being in the top twenty. In fact, maybe he would make the top ten, or even better. There hadn’t been any indication there were better rewards for those positions, but he’d be happy with bragging rights.

As the next week started, his anticipation about the cult infiltration built. He wished more than ever he’d asked Shabadras about who the other operative was going to be. The anticipation had him at the edge of his seat.

Of course, as he lay in bed at night fantasizing about the best things in life, he prayed to the Monad that his partner would be Katayoun. And then he prayed that it wasn’t Gandash. Or Enusat.

In all reality, it would likely be someone he didn’t know at all. After all, he was only on a first-name basis with a handful of Seers.

The week crawled by, and he did his best to pay attention during lectures. The standout moments were Epitome lessons with Mystic Rabya.

“Nice footwork,” she said after one particularly spirited sparring session.

A grin broke out on his face. “Really?”

She nodded. “I can tell you’ve been working on it. Now we need to start correcting your Squinting Slash.”

His grin faded, and he readjusted his grip on his sword. “What do you mean?”

“Show me how you do it.”

He obliged, slashing his sword down, then twisting his arms and shifting his grip.

“Stop,” Rabya said. “What are you aiming for?”

“Er….”

“Try again.” She squared off in front of him. “Go slowly. I’ll just stand here.”

He tried the move again, with the tip of his sword ending up somewhere near her abdomen. She grabbed it and moved it up higher, toward her sternum. “You want it here.” She moved it a bit higher, toward her shoulder. “Or here. Try again.”

His progress with the longsword was tangible, but at the same time, it frustrated him that so much of his previous learning had been in vain. In almost the entire time he’d been training with Rabya, he’d been unlearning things.

Fourthday and Fifthday went by as slow as molasses flowing down a staircase in winter.

On Sixthday, when schedules aligned again, he rejected his friends’ offer to go out to the bazaar, saying that he had momentum going with his meditation, and that reaching High Seer was now a real possibility. Restday was only a day away. One day until he met his partner in the infiltration operation. One day until he came face to face with the Cult of the Eternal Father.

One day until things got really interesting.