The Shattered Crowns

The sound of crashing waves filled Akash's ears as he walked along the forest's edge. The dense trees had grown smaller here, their trunks thinning and breaking apart to reveal an entirely new view. When the forest finally opened, Akash stopped short, an audible gasp escaping his lips.

It was the farthest south he had ever been, and before him lay the sea. The water stretched endlessly, far beyond the gravelly shore, farther than his eyes could see.

The scent of salt hung in the air, carried on the warm breeze that brushed against his face. The sun gleamed gently off the water, its golden light soaking into the horizon. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. No view from the land of Morgoi could hope to match this warmth.

Akash's shoulders began to shake. Then, with no warning, deep, hearty laughter tumbled from his lips. The sound was loud and raw, filled with a joy he hadn't felt in weeks. A wide smile spread across his face as he stared at the endless expanse of blue.

Behind him, Winter's voice broke the moment. "We'll need to remain under the cover of the trees and tents for the night. There's a fisherman down on the shore. We'll approach him tomorrow."

"You think he'll guide us across?" Akash asked, his voice still tinged with excitement.

"Yes," Winter replied. "He owes me a favor."

Akash turned to her, puzzled. "I thought this was your first time in Morgoi?"

Winter raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. "I never said that. You think your land makes you untouchable."

Daenys frowned at the exchange, but no one pressed the issue further.

The group set to work preparing their campsite in the shadow of the trees. Their movements were quiet and purposeful, the air between them calm but tinged with anticipation. They finished their work just as the sun dipped low on the horizon, its light fading into the warm hues of evening. Soon, the moons would rise, and with them, the familiar storm of colors that painted the skies of Lorian.

As the first stars began to appear, the heavens split into their nightly masterpiece.

Azure swept across the western hemisphere in vast, luminous waves. It was rich and vivid, but where the tones were brightest, a jagged streak emerged—a sharp, boundary-like ring curving through the center of the expanse. The ring glowed faintly, its edges like brushstrokes of silver.

In contrast, the eastern sky was consumed by regal purple. The hues, vibrant as freshly bloomed orchids, seemed to pulse and shift, threatening to spill over and swallow the azure ring whole. The purple and blue clashed like rival waves in an unending storm, yet neither side ever truly won.

This mist blocked the very light of the stars...

The group sat huddled beneath the cover of their tent and extra rocks as winds battered the material. Daenys fidgeted with the string of her bow, her nerves on edge. Winter, seated near the entrance, pulled out a small lantern. The soft glow of the candle within cast flickering shadows across their faces.

She rubbed the resin rings on her fingers absently, her eyes fixed on the shifting colors of the storm outside. "Do not leave the small outcove until I tell you to," she instructed, her voice firm.

"Why?" Akash asked, leaning back on his elbows.

Winter's eyes didn't leave the entrance. "The Lunar Storms sweep across Lorian during the night. Only a fool would walk through them."

"Lunar Storms?" Daenys echoed, her brow furrowed.

Mirak's eyes lit up with curiosity. "The storms that have plagued Lorian since the beginning of time, right? I've always wanted to see one."

Winter's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. "No. You should not want to experience even one," she warned, her tone ice-cold.

Below them, a lone hut sat on the edge of the shore. Mist began to gather around it, swirling through the empty landscape with eerie purpose. The movement was slow at first, delicate and almost playful. Then it grew thicker, more aggressive, tendrils of azure and purple mist coiling together like rival serpents.

The mist clung to the hut as if alive, wrapping around its base and pulling at it with invisible hands. The group could no longer see the water—only the mist remained, thick and impenetrable. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was muffled now, distant beneath the storm.

"This… this is a Lunar Storm?" Mirak whispered, his voice barely audible.

No one answered. All of them were transfixed by the unnatural sight, their gazes locked on the mist's movements. It pushed and pulled like a living thing, reaching out hungrily for anything it could grasp.

Mirak broke the silence again, his tone edged with unease. "What is it doing?"

Winter's voice was flat, emotionless. "It seeks life. Anything capable of sentient thought will draw its attention. Only Mooneye silk and heavily reinforced shelters can protect against it."

"But what is it protecting us from?" Daenys asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before Winter could reply, Mirak spoke again, his curiosity outweighing his caution. "How does Mooneye silk even work against something like this?"

Akash, meanwhile, leaned forward slightly, staring at the mist with an almost dreamy expression. "Imagine seeing this from somewhere high up. It would be beautiful."

Winter resisted the urge to sigh. They were like children seeing the world for the first time, their enthusiasm grating against her frayed nerves. This was her fault—she had brought naive children into a world that would not spare them. In time, they would learn the truth.

She addressed Daenys first. "Lunar Storms are certain death without Mooneye silk. Forgive me for not detailing the effects, but I find the subject… unnerving." Her lips pressed into a thin line as she moved to Mirak's question.

"The silk works because of the resin infused into its fibers. The resin disrupts the flow of Atta within the mist, making it harder for the storm to sense sentient life. It's a luxury, and very few countries know how to produce it."

Her tone left little room for further questions, but Akash, ever curious, reached out to touch the edge of the mist as it crept into the tent.

"It feels cold," he murmured, trailing his fingers through it.

Daenys snapped, "Yes, Akash, touch the mysterious mist that could kill us all. Brilliant idea."

Akash waved her off, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. "It's just mist. Cold mist, sure, but harmless."

Winter's voice cut through the tent like a knife. "Enough. We'll need our strength for tomorrow. Pray to your Great Shifter that we have safe travels on the boat."

Akash flopped onto Elys with a dramatic sigh, the massive feline grumbling softly in protest. "All you had to say was 'go to sleep,'" he muttered, his eyes already closing.

Daenys glanced between Mirak and Winter, her lips pressing into a thin line. She stood and nudged Akash over. "Move, Red," she said, lying down beside him.

Akash grumbled but rolled over, and soon both were asleep, leaving the tent quiet once more.

Winter waited until their breathing evened out, assured they were asleep, before speaking. "Do you know the Seven Laws of Atta?"

Mirak blinked, startled by the sudden question. "Seven? I knew there were laws, but I didn't realize there were so many."

Winter adjusted the lantern, her expression unreadable. "Most are irrelevant to you at the moment. But you'll need to learn them eventually."

Her voice became measured, almost rhythmic, as she continued. "The first three are known as the Laws of Goodwin. The First Law of Goodwin is the Law of Force."

Mirak nodded, already jotting down notes in his journal. "I assume it relates to applying force to push the Atta."

Winter gave a faint nod. "Correct. The full explanation is that Atta will remain at rest unless a force acts upon it. Similarly, once it flows, it will continue to flow unless stopped by another force."

She held up her resin rings. "Most Sorcerers use resin to create that force. It's more efficient for manipulating Atta. I, however, rely less on resin, as my mastery doesn't depend on controlling Atta directly."

She continued. "The Second Law of Goodwin is the Law of Continuity. Atta can neither be created nor destroyed. And the Third is the Law of Change—every action has an equal and opposite reaction within the flow of Atta."

Mirak scribbled furiously, nodding along. "That's why you use a staff, isn't it?"

Winter gave a small nod. "Exactly. Memorize the three Laws of Goodwin. Every Sergt must know them word for word. No Sorcerer, no matter how strong, can break these laws. They define the boundaries of what we do."

Mirak leaned forward slightly, his pen hovering over the page. "And the other four laws?"

Winter shook her head. "The remaining four laws are far more debated and less fundamental than Goodwin's. You don't need to concern yourself with them yet."

Mirak's brow furrowed, but he pressed on. "Could you at least give me an overview?"

Winter exhaled through her nose, her patience thinning. Still, she answered. "Fine. The other four laws are Drezditch's Law, Minerva's Law, the Tyndall Effect, and the Kars Medah Principles."

Her voice softened slightly as she explained. "Drezditch's Law deals with the pressure changes in Atta. Word for word, it states: 'Pressure changes within Atta are transmitted to every part of the flow without loss.'"

Mirak's expression twisted in confusion, his nose scrunching as he tried to process the concept. Winter noticed the subtle tell—his frustration—and sighed.

"It's easier to understand with examples," she said, her tone dry. "Drezditch himself spent years writing and testing theories about this. Let me simplify it for you: the higher up you are—on a mountain, for instance—the easier it is to use Atta. The pressure at higher altitudes makes the force needed to manipulate it less strenuous."

Mirak blinked, the explanation settling in. "So… Morgoi should have stronger Atta flow than Lorian, since it's higher up?"

Winter tilted her head slightly, intrigued by the observation. "That would make sense. The flow of Atta is certainly weaker in Morgoi, but I hadn't considered altitude as a contributing factor. Still, there's more to it than height. Morgoi's restrictions are likely due to other factors as well."

She waved a hand, dismissing the topic. "In any case, you'll need years of study before you fully grasp Drezditch's Law and its implications. It's far from simple, and many counterarguments to it exist. But we'll revisit it another time."

Mirak nodded, scribbling notes into his journal as he stifled a yawn.

"You're falling asleep," Winter observed, her tone clipped.

"No, I'm not!" Mirak protested, though the exhaustion was clear on his face.

Winter sighed. "We have time, Mirak. You need to rest if you're going to learn anything properly. These laws aren't just guidelines—they're the framework of our reality. You must know them as intimately as you know your own name."

Mirak opened his mouth to argue, but Winter waved him off. "Enough for tonight. Go to sleep."

Reluctantly, Mirak set his journal aside and curled up next to Elys, the massive feline's warmth lulling him into a quick, peaceful slumber.

Winter watched him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without turning her head, she spoke. "If you keep pretending to sleep, Daenys, I might toss you into the Lunar Storm myself. Stop wasting my time."

Daenys' eyes flicked open, a faint grin tugging at her lips. "What gave me away?"

"Most people don't breathe so shallowly when they're asleep," Winter said simply.

Daenys sat up, crossing her arms as she studied the Sorcerer. Winter's silhouette was bathed in faint candlelight, her sharp features casting long shadows across the tent. There was something about her that set Daenys on edge—something calculating and cold.

Akash might openly distrust her, and Mirak might idolize her, but Daenys wasn't so quick to take Winter at face value. She needed to know more.

"Mirak, Akash, and I grew up together," Daenys began, her voice soft but steady.

Winter tilted her head slightly, unimpressed. "I'd assumed as much. Now, why are you spying on my conversation with my Sergt? That seems more like something Akash would do."

Daenys ignored the jab and continued. "When we were younger, I was always the one getting Akash out of trouble. And Mirak? He was the one who'd sit with me, talking about all the thoughts rattling around in his head. He used to light up every time his mother gave him a new book. You should've seen him."

Her gaze turned sharp, her tone dropping. "Akash probably warned you already, but I'll say it anyway: whatever plans you have, you'd better not hurt them. They mean more to me than you realize."

Winter met Daenys' glare with calm detachment. "As I told the boy with the Impresa mark, I'm your safest option for travel." Her eyes flicked briefly to Mirak's sleeping form. "That one has potential, but he runs like a mouse at the first sign of trouble. I'm teaching him because I gave my word. Nothing more, nothing less."

Daenys exhaled slowly, conceding the point. "He's cautious, yes. But he's also smart. When Akash came up with the idea to ride a shifter and dragged us along, Mirak was the first to object. He knew the risk wasn't worth it."

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Cautious? Or simply too afraid to act?"

Daenys didn't flinch. "You want your apprentice to think, don't you? Isn't that what you said to him earlier?"

Winter's expression flickered briefly, just enough for Daenys to catch it. The younger woman leaned forward slightly, her tone sharpening. "You might have fooled the others, but I've always been good at reading people. You're hiding something from us. Something important."

Winter's eyes narrowed. "You tread a dangerous line, girl."

Daenys smiled faintly. "I know. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

The next morning, the group made their way down to the gravelly shore where the fisherman's hut sat perched against the water's edge. The hut was a small, ramshackle thing, its weathered wood patched in places with mismatched planks. A narrow dock extended into the waves, and a single triangular-sailed boat bobbed with the current.

Akash laughed loudly as they approached, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. Even Elys seemed to purr, prowling close to the water as if searching for fish. Mirak, walking alongside him, wore a small but noticeable grin.

"You're starting to look like Winter," Akash teased, bumping Mirak's shoulder. "All that brooding about resin and Atta. Next thing I know, you'll be lecturing us on laws and principles."

Mirak shoved him back lightly. "And I could say the same about you. I've seen the way you look at that Impresa mark of yours. May would be jealous if she knew you were mimicking her."

Akash winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me. I just… I don't know what to make of it yet. A mark that's supposed to give me peak human performance, and I don't feel any stronger or faster." He flexed his hand absently.

Mirak chuckled softly, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The foggy uncertainty about his path still lingered, heavy as ever. He studied Atta tirelessly, but what if he never truly learned to control it? Would Winter abandon him if he failed?

"You look the same as always," Mirak said finally. "Maybe Winter was wrong about both of us."

Akash clapped him on the back with a grin. "Don't sound so down, Mirak. Give it time. You're going to be the best Sorcerer Lorian's ever seen."

Mirak nodded faintly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I hope so."