Chapter Text
The book was warm and heavy in his hands. A note on the front panel had brought him here, to this run-down little shack in the middle of nowhere, and he hadn't thought much of it until right just now.
Parvis gulped. There were lights on inside—someone was home, and he wasn't sure if he hoped it was the owner or not. Puffing out his chest and steeling himself, he strode up to the door and knocked.
"One second!" someone called from inside. There were tapping footsteps, and then the door opened.
A pair of glowing violet eyes blinked at Parvis, set above an aquiline nose and a black scarf. They crinkled in a smile.
"Parvis, right?" Rythian said.
"That's me," Parvis confirmed, inflating. "I'm not surprised you've heard of me. I'm very important, you know."
"Of course. Come in, I was just rearranging my essentia." He stood aside and presented the house. Parvis stepped in, eyeing him.
"That sounds a bit dirty," he said.
Rythian's raised his eyebrows. "Does it? Maybe you should get your ears cleaned. Do you want something to eat or drink? I think there's stuff in the pantry."
"Yeah, all right," Parvis said gamely. "What kind of stuff?"
Rythian made a noncommittal noise. "Ehh, probably moldy kind of stuff at this point. I haven't looked in a while."
"Get all your meat fresh, do you?"
"Sure, let's go with that." Rythian led him to a small back room with a large hole in the floor. Strange vapors and tingles of power and the top of a ladder protruded from the hole, and there was light at the bottom. "You'll have to walk around the pit, I'm afraid, the pantry's on the other side of it."
Parvis lit up. "Ooh, what's in the pit?"
"Oh, just some thaumic stuff. Essentia, infusion altar, that kind of thing." His eyes glittered. "Would you like a tour?"
With the book completely forgotten in his hand, Parvis agreed emphatically.
The electric sense of power in the air grew denser as they descended the ladder, until it was fairly crackling off of Parvis's skin.
The room at the bottom of the ladder was brightly lit, the floor covered in a pale mist that was more like cobweb than fog. There was a huge stone altar in the center of the room, sparking with multicolored lightning and humming with power. The walls were lined with jars of fluid, each of which seemed to be moving slightly under its own power, each a unique and foreign color. Looking at them made Parvis's head hurt. The mist was climbing the walls behind them.
"So, this is my enchanting room," Rythian said. "The big thing that looks like an altar is the altar. I haven't grounded it in a while, so I wouldn't touch it if I were you. Various essentia—" he made a sweeping gesture towards the shelves of jars— "which I also wouldn't touch, although mostly just because I just got done cleaning them."
Parvis peered at one of the jars. The fluid inside was a blue so bright it seemed to have gone off the end of the spectrum. It shied away from him as he came closer.
"It looks tasty," he said. "I want to drink it."
"You could," Rythian allowed.
Parvis gasped and turned to him, delighted. "I could?"
"If you didn't mind a slow and agonizing death, you absolutely could."
"Oh," he said, deflating. He reached out to prod the jar, then thought better of it. "So what's all this for?"
"Understanding the fundamental mechanics of the universe," Rythian answered casually. "It's a lot less impressive than it looks. It could be made to be impressive—swords that call up tempests with every swing, armor impenetrable by anything but other thaumaturgy—but that's not what I'm using it for, so."
"You're not? Why not?"
Rythian shrugged. "I don't need to. The thing is, when all your neighbors know you could wipe them off the face of the earth on a whim, they don't tend to give you any reason to do it."
Something hot and dark ignited in Parvis's chest. "I bet they don't. Did you have to demonstrate? Was it cool?"
Rythian's eyes narrowed in amusement. "Oddly enough, there wasn't anyone else here when I arrived, and no one else has decided to stay. So no, no demonstrating. The cows have been very pleasant neighbors."
"Oh," said Parvis, sagging. "But what's the point of all this, then?"
"I told you. Understanding the fundamental mechanics of the universe."
"I thought that was all pretty much figured out already."
Rythian's expression went dark and cagey, and he turned away. "Sometimes the fundamental mechanics of the universe get changed," he said, "and then some work has to be put in to figuring out what's shifted, and where to."
"Sounds like an awful lot of work," Parvis said.
"It is."
"Sounds like it's been very lonely," he added.
"It is." Rythian turned and headed for the ladder. "That's all that's down here, anyway, apart from a mine I never use anymore. I'm pretty sure there's something edible in here somewhere."
"Sounds like you could use an apprentice," Parvis concluded.
Rythian froze, going inhumanly still upon the instant, as though time around him had stopped.
"No," he said at last, coming back to life and continuing over to the ladder.
"Aw, why not?" he asked, tagging along as Rythian began to climb.
"Because I don't take apprentices." He paused. "Anymore."
Parvis stuffed the book under his chin, the better to climb the ladder.
"But you could," he pointed out. "I'm a very good apprentice. You could ask Strife. Or Martyn. Or anyone, really. I've apprenticed with lots of people."
"Then I'd think you would have had enough of it," Rythian said, stepping back out into the pantry. Parvis followed, and when he took the book out from under his chin, he stood looking at it for a moment.
"I found this," he said, giving the book a flourish. "It's got your name in it."
Recognition flickered across Rythian's face, just for a moment, followed immediately by puzzlement.
"Let me see that?" he said, holding out a hand. Parvis gave him the book.
"It was very interesting," Parvis said, fidgeting. "I read most of it. Until it got too confusing. Okay, I read about the first three pages, and then it got too confusing so I decided I'd just come find you instead, because you wrote it, so you must be able to understand it."
"Oh, right," said Rythian, hefting the book in his hand. "I remember this."
The book burst into flame. Parvis squeaked in alarm, snatching at the ashes. He got only burned fingers for his trouble.
"There," said Rythian, dusting the ash off his palm. "Thank you for bringing that back, I had wondered where it had gotten off to."
"What—but—you—you can't just burn it!" Parvis sputtered.
"I can't? I was under the impression that I just did. I'm going to start some water boiling, do you want anything hot to drink? Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?"
Rythian turned and busied himself at the counter, igniting the stovetop with his fingertips. Parvis glared at his back and went right on sputtering.
"There was a lot of stuff in that book!" he cried at last.
"I know," Rythian confirmed. "I wrote it."
"Then why did you just—burn it?"
"Because I know what I wrote in it. You didn't answer me about hot drinks, by the way."
"Look, I've—I followed some of it, you know. And I found this!"
Rythian looked over his shoulder with one eyebrow raised. Parvis fumbled around in his pack until his hand closed on the cold, smooth orb. He pulled it out and thrust it at Rythian.
To his surprise, Rythian shied away, his eyes fixed on the yellow sphere.
"Have you used it?" he demanded, and his voice had grown deep and rough.
"Er, well, I mean, sort of," Parvis said, feeling suddenly much less confident. The orb had grown heavier in his hand, possibly from the sheer weight of Rythian's attention.
"Have you or haven't you?" Rythian snapped.
"It's—I haven't been able to use it for anything," Parvis said. "Just when I focus on it too hard sometimes it, like, bites me—"
Something struck his hand so hard it made his whole arm sting. The orb smashed on the floor, and all the air rushed out of Parvis's lungs, as though someone had punched him in the gut. He felt his knees fold, and then Rythian caught him under the arms and helped him stagger to a chair.
When his head stopped spinning, he found himself holding a mug of something dark and hot, with Rythian perched next to him on the arm of the chair. Parvis's skin tickled wherever Rythian's gaze touched it.
"Hot chocolate," Rythian said, indicating the mug with a flick of one long-fingered hand. "I figured it was a safe bet."
"What just . . . happened?" Parvis asked, frowning.
"The orb was bound to you, so I broke it. I didn't think you'd used it that much, but apparently I was wrong. You'll be okay. Just a little light-headed for a while."
"Oh," said Parvis. "What d'you mean, bound to me?"
Rythian sighed. "The less you know about this, the better."
"I read the book," he declared, lifting his chin. "I know plenty already."
"You don't," Rythian told him, "because if you did, you would have known not to keep pouring blood into that orb."
"I didn't—pour blood into it!"
"In the professional opinion of the person who wrote that book, yes, you did. How long have you had it?"
Parvis shrugged. "I dunno, a couple of months, maybe?"
"And how often did you—sorry, did it—bite you?"
"I dunno, maybe once a day?"
Rythian cursed and grabbed Parvis's wrist. Parvis just managed to let go of his mug in time to keep from sloshing hot chocolate all over himself. Rythian stared at his palm so hard it made Parvis's bones ache.
"You're an idiot," Rythian spat, dropping Parvis's hand. "And you're lucky you're not dead."
"Look, will you just tell me what happened?"
"You poured what was probably sixteen full minutes of your life into that thing," he spat the word out like it was a mouthful of lye, "and then broke it all over the floor."
"Hey, you're the one who broke it!" Parvis objected.
"You'd be better off dead," Rythian said grimly, "than enslaved to that."
"Enslaved? I wasn't enslaved to anything!"
"You would have been."
"And what's that anyway? What was that book about?"
Rythian clenched his jaw and looked away. He was silent for a time, then answered:
"Sanguimancy. Blood magic."
"Oooh, that sounds fun," Parvis said, grinning.
Rythian slapped him, backhanded, so hard it made his ears ring. Hot chocolate sloshed all over his leg and hand, and he nearly tumbled right over the other arm of the chair and onto the floor. Blinking, he sat back up and rubbed his jaw.
"Ow," he said. His whole right arm had broken out in a hot sweat from simple proximity to Rythian.
"Don't ever," Rythian growled, "say that to my face again."
Parvis shuddered. "Fine, but you didn't have to hit me."
Rythian took a deep breath and sighed it back out, and the room cooled significantly, as though a radiator had been turned off.
"This isn't something to be toyed with, Parvis," Rythian said at last. "It's more dangerous and volatile than any other form of magic. It . . . changes people. There is a very good reason I've burned all of my notes and destroyed every—" His head snapped around, and Parvis's skin started itching. "Where did you get that orb?"
"The orb?" Parvis said, struggling to keep up. He set the mostly-empty mug on the floor. "Er, I found it. In a dungeon. With the book."
Rythian cursed fervently and shot to his feet. He started pacing, hands clasped behind his back.
"Where?" he demanded.
"I dunno, under Martyn's tree stuff, I guess. Around there. It was in a chest."
"Was there anything else in there?"
"Just some, like, gold, a couple of diamonds—"
"Anything you didn't recognize? Slates, daggers, anything like that?"
"No. Why, are they important? For the blood magic?" He shivered. "Ooh, it just sounds so cool."
Rythian rounded on him, and it was like taking a dart to the forehead.
"Don't make me hit you again," he said. Parvis raised his hands.
"Please don't! I'm just curious, that's all!"
"Be curious about something else," Rythian snapped, and went back to pacing. "And you have no idea how it got into that chest?"
"Not a clue," said Parvis. "Is it a conspiracy? Did someone steal stuff from you? Ooh, can I help you get revenge? I like revenge."
"Shut up," Rythian said, "or get out."
Parvis pouted, folding his arms. "Look, I'm just trying to help."
"You're failing."
"You're very rude, you know that? I'm a guest in your house—if you can even call this a house—and all you've done is be mean to me. I just wanted to be your apprentice, that's all."
Again, Rythian froze, this time with one foot in the air. He shook himself and continued his pacing.
"And I told you no."
"If you don't make me your apprentice," Parvis threatened, "I'm just going to figure it out on my own."
"I'll send flowers," Rythian said.
"You'll what?"
He sighed, rolling his eyes. "To your funeral."
"I won't die. I know lots of stuff, I'm very good at not dying."
"Not that good."
"I'm not going to die because of blood magic."
"No," Rythian said, fixing him with that sharp-ended gaze again, "you'll die because I'll kill you."
Parvis shrank back into himself. "Aw, that's not fair," he whined.
"It is, actually," he replied. "Because there would come a time, eventually, when you would wish you were dead and no one would be able to help you."
"You're so dramatic," Parvis told him, sticking his lip out.
"I get that a lot."
"I'm not leaving until you make me your apprentice."
Rythian threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, you know what, fine. I'll teach you thaumaturgy. For no other reason than so that I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're not doing anything else."
Parvis whooped, leaping out of the chair.
"I'm going to be a wizard!"
"You're going to be a pain in the ass," Rythian grumbled. "And your first task as apprentice is to clean up all the glass in the pantry and the hot chocolate in here."
"Aw, what?" Parvis whined, sagging. "That's no fun!"
Rythian smiled at him. "That's what you get for annoying me."
"I don't think I want to be your apprentice anymore. You're weird and creepy and mean."
"Parvis," Rythian told him, "you have no idea."
It was late, long past midnight, and Parvis was awakened from a light and fretful sleep by the sound of Rythian's door opening. Wrapped in the blankets of Rythian's own bed, Parvis debated whether or not to pretend he was still asleep. He decided it would be best for everyone involved if he didn't make this awkward by sitting up and making conversation. Rythian had, most likely, just left something important in his room and was sneaking back in to get it.
The bed creaked, and something heavy fell on Parvis.
"Oh, shit," said Rythian, and rolled off onto the floor.
Parvis made an undignified, confused noise, and sat up. Even from this distance, he could smell the fumes on Rythian's breath.
"I forgot you were here," Rythian said. His eyes were casting roving lights around the room.
"Are you . . . drunk?" Parvis asked, peering at him. In the dim light, he could tell only that Rythian was not wearing his mask—nothing about what might be underneath.
"Shhhh," Rythian admonished, putting a finger to the approximate region of his lips. "I'm supposed to be handling it well."
"Handling what well?"
Rythian sighed and stretched. "Everything."
"Is this . . . about Zoey?" Parvis hazarded.
"It's always been about Zoey," Rythian said. "I mean, hasn't it? I'm an idiot, Parvis. I'm really very stupid."
"I'm sure you're not. What happened?"
"Oh, she met someone and now they're girlfriends," said Rythian. "And I'm—I'm very happy for them, because Zoey's very happy and I'm sure the other—other girl—Fiona—is happy too, because who wouldn't be, but I'm also very stupid, because, you see, I didn't know. And I could have asked. If I'd said—anything, anything at all, but I—I'm very stupid."
"Ohhh," said Parvis, nodding. "Didn't know she was into women, is that it?"
"And I could have asked. I could have said anything. But I'm a coward—a very stupid coward, and also I thought it was so obvious, because it was obvious to me, and maybe it was and she was just too nice to say anything—she's very nice, but I wish she would have said something—not that she was ever obligated—"
"I dunno, that can hurt, too," said Parvis. He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow. "Take Strife, for example. Straight as an arrow. He didn't even want to work with me, just because I think he's very attractive." He clicked his teeth. "What a waste."
"Waste? What's a waste?"
"Oh, nothing, just . . . I don't know, I really wanted him to be gay. It would've worked so well on him. It's a waste." He sighed. "Same about you, really."
Rythian laughed. "I'm gayer than—than rainbows," he said.
"But . . . you and Zoey—"
"Everyone is pretty and it's terrible," Rythian told him.
He brightened. "Am I pretty?"
"Pretty annoying."
"That's mean. You're mean."
"I know. It's fun."
Parvis paused, chewing his lip. "Rythian," he said, "why won't you teach me blood magic?"
"Because it's heroine for the soul," Rythian answered immediately, "and nothing will ever feel as good."
"That doesn't sound bad at all. That sounds awesome."
"No, Parvis, nothing. Will ever feel as good. Ever again. The—the best you'll ever get is . . . 'pretty nice.' Forever. Think about it for ten seconds."
Parvis thought about it.
"I—"
"That was only three. Give it seven more."
With a certain amount of resentment, Parvis thought about it for another seven seconds.
"How d'you know?" he asked.
"Because I—" He broke off, then started over in a different tone of voice. "Because I've been there. In all the—that. And it . . . almost destroyed me."
"But it didn't," Parvis pointed out. "And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? So why are you so . . . scared of it?"
"I didn't say it almost killed me," Rythian said. "I said it almost destroyed me."
He frowned. "What's the difference?"
Shaking his head, Rythian said, "It's bad for you. All of it. For everyone. And I'm not going back there for anything."
"You keep saying there. Is there, like, a place?"
"It's a state of mind."
"What, like, being drunk?"
Rythian laughed again. "No," he said. "Not like that at all."
There was a long lull, filled with Rythian's breathing.
"You know, you can sleep up here," Parvis offered, "if you want. There's room."
"I like the floor," said Rythian. "The floor understands me."
"How drunk are you?"
"I will not remember this conversation."
Parvis whistled. "All this because of Zoey?"
"No," Rythian sighed. "All this because of me."