finished.
Sora considered his words. The previous leg
of her journey had been fraught with peril. First her ship sank
near the Lost Isles and she thought her friends were dead. Then she
fought the garrolithe in the Crystal Caves. Crash was
imprisoned and tortured by the Harpies, and finally, they battled
Volcrian. She was forced to create a bond with two different
Cat’s-Eye stones in order to kill the mage. She had destroyed one
of the stones and suffered the mental backlash of a broken bond.
Luckily, it hadn’t killed her. She glanced at her blood-caked,
bandaged palm.
Beyond all of that—though it seemed
pathetic—she had to consider the kiss. That unforgettable kiss on
the bow of the Dawn Seeker when she and Crash left the
Isles. She hadn’t quite been the same since.
“I fought the garrolithe in the
Crystal Caves,” she said quietly. “That’s where the problem
started.”
“I was getting to that,” Ferran replied
softly. “Your Cat’s-Eye stone has been imprinted by powerful,
ancient magic. The garrolithe is no simple work of sorcery.
It is a war-spell called a mecha-animist .”
“A mecha-animist?” Sora echoed.
Ferran nodded. “Before the War of the Races,
skilled sorcerers would make magical little pets called animists and keep them as companions, or sell them to
wealthy families for a profit. But after the war started, sorcerers
from different races would come together and unite their magic,
creating terrible beasts of power. The mecha-animists are true
monsters meant for battle. I’ve only seen one such creature before;
they are very rare. And very dangerous.”
“But how…?” Sora began.
He didn’t wait for her question: “The beasts
were created by magical energy, and therefore immortal, unless
intentionally destroyed. The garrolithe , as you call it, is
now contained inside your stone. Imagine wearing a lion around your
neck—it won’t come when you call, and it won’t respond to your
begging or pleading. It’s a wild creature—it wants to be free.”
“Then how do I fix it?” Sora finally
asked.
“The only thing it will follow is your
strength. You need to tame it.”
Sora bit her lip with uncertainty. “You make
it sound like breaking in a horse….”
“It’s a similar process, but harder, because
you don’t have any physical tools to work with. It all comes down
to your strength of will.” Ferran gave her a pointed look. “To
continue to use the Cat’s Eye, you need a greater level of mental
discipline than you’ve had up to this point. More power requires
more control.”
Sora sighed and leaned back on her hands,
wincing as a rock bit into her injured palm. “Great,” she muttered.
“More complications.”
“Don’t look at it like that,” Ferran said
reproachfully. “You’re very lucky, you know. We all are. Without
the garrolithe , we’d most likely be dead.”
She nodded absently—true, but she was too
distraught to appreciate his words. “So what now?” she asked. “How
do I fix the stone?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the stone,”
Ferran grinned. Then he reached up and prodded her forehead. “You
need to fix your mind, my girl.”
“And how do I do that?” she asked. She
rubbed her temple and gave him a disgruntled look.
“I’m going to teach you,” he replied. “It
will take time and commitment, but seeing as we won’t reach the
City of Crowns for a little while, I think you can manage
that.”
Sora nodded. She recalled how he had used
his Cat’s Eye in the plague-ridden building. His control was
effortless, like watching Crash with his swords, or her mother with
her healing. She knew she had a lot to learn from him, and the more
she considered it, the more eager she became. She desperately
wanted to reclaim her connection to her Cat’s Eye. It wasn’t like
losing a tool or a weapon—she felt, somehow, as if she had lost a
very dear friend.
“You’re right,” Sora said abruptly. Hope
bloomed. Finally, a sense of
Sora considered his words. The previous leg
of her journey had been fraught with peril. First her ship sank
near the Lost Isles and she thought her friends were dead. Then she
fought the garrolithe in the Crystal Caves. Crash was
imprisoned and tortured by the Harpies, and finally, they battled
Volcrian. She was forced to create a bond with two different
Cat’s-Eye stones in order to kill the mage. She had destroyed one
of the stones and suffered the mental backlash of a broken bond.
Luckily, it hadn’t killed her. She glanced at her blood-caked,
bandaged palm.
Beyond all of that—though it seemed
pathetic—she had to consider the kiss. That unforgettable kiss on
the bow of the Dawn Seeker when she and Crash left the
Isles. She hadn’t quite been the same since.
“I fought the garrolithe in the
Crystal Caves,” she said quietly. “That’s where the problem
started.”
“I was getting to that,” Ferran replied
softly. “Your Cat’s-Eye stone has been imprinted by powerful,
ancient magic. The garrolithe is no simple work of sorcery.
It is a war-spell called a mecha-animist .”
“A mecha-animist?” Sora echoed.
Ferran nodded. “Before the War of the Races,
skilled sorcerers would make magical little pets called animists and keep them as companions, or sell them to
wealthy families for a profit. But after the war started, sorcerers
from different races would come together and unite their magic,
creating terrible beasts of power. The mecha-animists are true
monsters meant for battle. I’ve only seen one such creature before;
they are very rare. And very dangerous.”
“But how…?” Sora began.
He didn’t wait for her question: “The beasts
were created by magical energy, and therefore immortal, unless
intentionally destroyed. The garrolithe , as you call it, is
now contained inside your stone. Imagine wearing a lion around your
neck—it won’t come when you call, and it won’t respond to your
begging or pleading. It’s a wild creature—it wants to be free.”
“Then how do I fix it?” Sora finally
asked.
“The only thing it will follow is your
strength. You need to tame it.”
Sora bit her lip with uncertainty. “You make
it sound like breaking in a horse….”
“It’s a similar process, but harder, because
you don’t have any physical tools to work with. It all comes down
to your strength of will.” Ferran gave her a pointed look. “To
continue to use the Cat’s Eye, you need a greater level of mental
discipline than you’ve had up to this point. More power requires
more control.”
Sora sighed and leaned back on her hands,
wincing as a rock bit into her injured palm. “Great,” she muttered.
“More complications.”
“Don’t look at it like that,” Ferran said
reproachfully. “You’re very lucky, you know. We all are. Without
the garrolithe , we’d most likely be dead.”
She nodded absently—true, but she was too
distraught to appreciate his words. “So what now?” she asked. “How
do I fix the stone?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the stone,”
Ferran grinned. Then he reached up and prodded her forehead. “You
need to fix your mind, my girl.”
“And how do I do that?” she asked. She
rubbed her temple and gave him a disgruntled look.
“I’m going to teach you,” he replied. “It
will take time and commitment, but seeing as we won’t reach the
City of Crowns for a little while, I think you can manage
that.”
Sora nodded. She recalled how he had used
his Cat’s Eye in the plague-ridden building. His control was
effortless, like watching Crash with his swords, or her mother with
her healing. She knew she had a lot to learn from him, and the more
she considered it, the more eager she became. She desperately
wanted to reclaim her connection to her Cat’s Eye. It wasn’t like
losing a tool or a weapon—she felt, somehow, as if she had lost a
very dear friend.
“You’re right,” Sora said abruptly. Hope
bloomed. Finally, a sense of
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