The Shattered Crowns

Mirak tilted his head. "Harmony? What do you mean by that?"

Winter tapped her staff lightly against the ground, her sharp eyes locking on his. "Harmony is not about overpowering Atta. It's about finding the balance between its pull and your will. Think of the Atta as an endless tide. If you try to swim against it without understanding its flow, you'll drown. You must guide it, not force it."

She paused for a moment, then added, "First, you'll need to fix the air around you. Atta won't bend for someone who hasn't learned to stabilize their presence. Without that foundation, you'll never progress beyond the basics."

Mirak frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. "What do you mean, 'fix the air around me?' How do I even start to do that?"

Winter rapped her staff against the ground again, this time with more force. "A good example is your friend Akash. He's bold, impulsive, and full of himself, yes, but there's something else. He has an innate will—a presence—that demands respect. Even when he's being insufferable, he carries himself in a way that says, 'You cannot make me bow.' That is the kind of presence a Sorcerer must cultivate."

Mirak's gaze fell to the dirt. "Courageous and bold… I wish I were like that." His voice was quiet, but Winter caught the bitterness laced in his tone.

She studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Akash may be courageous, but that doesn't mean he's flawless. His confidence blinds him to anything that doesn't fit his worldview. He doesn't listen to others when their opinions challenge his. That's a dangerous trait for someone with an Impresa mark."

Mirak's head snapped up, his curiosity piqued. "Why? What's so dangerous about that?"

Winter pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience thinning. "The Tower of Sorcerers requires a strong will, yes, but a Sorcerer must also know when to listen, when to negotiate, and when to hold back. Akash would pick fights where diplomacy was needed. He'd rush headlong into conflict, ignoring the subtlety that's required to survive in that world. He might have strength, but his lack of foresight would destroy him."

Winter's voice softened slightly as she added, "Harmony is about timing, Mirak. It's not just about exerting force—it's about knowing when to act and when to wait. Great Sorcerers are those who understand this balance. They know when Atta can serve them and when to let it flow untouched."

Mirak huffed a small laugh. "Akash? Waiting? A shifter would speak before that ever happens."

Winter allowed herself a rare smile. "Exactly. And that is why he would struggle to reach the heights of the Tower. Impatience is a liability there."

She gestured for Mirak to continue with his questions. He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "You talk about the Tower of Sorcerers a lot, but I've only ever heard vague things about it. Why is it kept so secret?"

Winter's expression darkened slightly. "The Tower holds power beyond what most can imagine. We sit at the top of Lorian's hierarchy of knowledge, sentient beings capable of bending the laws of the world itself. That kind of power comes with consequences. If our secrets were freely shared, they could tear Lorian apart. Knowledge is hoarded, not because we are selfish, but because we understand the cost of spreading it carelessly."

She pointed her staff at him, her tone sharpening. "You are my Sergt. That entitles you to a measure of knowledge, but only what I deem necessary. Your friends will not be privy to what you learn. Do you understand?"

Mirak nodded quickly, his gaze serious. "I understand."

Winter relaxed slightly, lowering her staff. "Good. Then listen carefully. The Tower of Sorcerers is divided into three ranks." She raised three fingers, counting them off as she spoke. "First, there are the Sergts—students like you. They are the lowest rank, little more than apprentices. Sergts perform menial tasks and are only taught the basics of Harmony under the guidance of their master."

She continued, "Then, there are the Approved. These are Sorcerers who have completed their initial training. They serve as second-in-command to their Vodas, learning advanced Harmony and specializing in one of the five masteries. They answer only to their Voda."

Mirak leaned forward, his curiosity growing. "Why only their Voda? Why not the other Vodas?"

Winter let out a dry laugh. "Because of politics, of course. The Tower is a nest of vipers, each Sorcerer hoarding knowledge and secrets to maintain their power. The Approved are chosen from the most loyal Sergts, and they carry that loyalty forward. To share knowledge outside their Voda's circle would risk betrayal—or worse."

She paused, then added, "You'll find that the Tower is less like a grand institution and more like a den of thieves. Every move must be calculated. One misstep, one creak of a floorboard during the 'heist,' and it all collapses."

Mirak frowned. "But wouldn't it be better for Sorcerers to work together? If knowledge was shared freely, couldn't everyone benefit?"

Winter's expression hardened. "The Kingkiller taught us the danger of shared knowledge."

Mirak's head snapped up. "The Kingkiller? One of the Four Heroes of the Age of Fallacy? What did he do?"

Winter laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless. "What didn't he do? The Kingkiller was the most powerful Sorcerer to ever walk Lorian. Only Solomon of House Fell could rival him, and even they were fundamentally different."

She tapped her staff against the ground, the weight of her words filling the air. "His title was well earned. The Kingkiller had such mastery over Harmony that he pulled entire kingdoms from the ground. He pushed back the oceans themselves and shaped the very fabric of Lorian. But his power came at a price. He slaughtered the Sorcerer Kings of old, flooding the lands and throwing the world into chaos. Thousands of years of progress were destroyed because of him."

Her voice dropped to a near whisper. "It was only through the quick thinking of the first Vodas that Sorcerers survived. They created the masteries and chose their apprentices carefully, building the Tower as a fortress of secrecy. Even now, the fear of the Kingkiller lingers. That is why we hoard knowledge, Mirak. Not out of greed, but out of necessity."

Mirak swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Entire kingdoms? That shouldn't be possible…"

Winter smiled faintly, the expression grim. "Perhaps it's exaggerated. But even so, the Kingkiller remains the most powerful Sorcerer in history. That much is certain."

She brushed a strand of black hair from her face and continued. "To become a Voda, one must master all five branches of Harmony and create a new use of Atta within their chosen mastery. It is a title earned through innovation and discipline, not given lightly."

Mirak sat straighter, determination flickering in his eyes. "Then I'll make sure to honor you, Winter Blackwood. I'll prove I'm worthy of being your Sergt."

Winter tilted her head slightly, studying him. "We'll see, Mirak. The path ahead is long. But tell me—why do you wish to learn Harmony?"

Mirak hesitated, his hands tightening around the edges of his cloak. Winter's sharp gaze bore into him, but she waited patiently, giving him space to speak. Finally, he forced the words out.

"Those karnen… I tried to stop them." His voice cracked slightly, and he paused to collect himself before continuing. "But in the end, I didn't. I couldn't. When the karnen attacked the village, I ran. I ran while Akash stayed and fought. Daenys fought too. She lost her father trying to drag me along. But all I could think about was how much I wanted to live."

He fell silent for a moment, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the dirt. "I'm a coward. I've always been a coward. If I'd had Harmony—if I'd known how to control Atta—I could've done something. I could've protected Daenys' father. I could've protected Akash, my mother, and the whole village. But I didn't. I was too weak."

Winter studied him in silence. When she finally spoke, her tone was calm but unyielding. "My Atta didn't save your village. The storm I summoned only slowed the karnen, and the snake did the rest. Do you believe more Sorcerers would have made a difference?"

Mirak's emerald eyes flicked up to hers, burning with quiet resolve. "Yes. If more Sorcerers existed, the karnen would be dead, and the village would still be standing. I want to be strong. I don't want to run anymore."

Winter's mouth pressed into a thin line. She considered his words carefully before replying. "Strength alone doesn't guarantee salvation, Mirak. You should understand that. The Morosi was there, too."

Mirak flinched slightly at the name, but Winter continued, her voice hard. "That creature would have overwhelmed you no matter how much Atta you wielded. The karnen are dangerous, but the Morosi is far worse—a General of one of the Princes. If you'd tried to stand against it as you are now, you would've been slaughtered."

She leaned forward, leveling him with a pointed look. "Being a Sorcerer isn't as simple as learning Harmony. Sorcerers are scholars first and foremost. We don't just wield Atta—we study it, debate it, and work to understand its intricacies. If you're expecting me to train you as a warrior, you're mistaken. I'll train you to be a scholar, and nothing less."

Mirak's shoulders straightened slightly, his voice soft but determined. "I'll study hard. I'll learn everything I can."

Winter's gaze lingered on him for a long moment before she nodded. "We'll see in time. Your second lesson will come tomorrow night, after your friends have fallen asleep."

"Why not tonight?" Mirak asked, frowning.

Winter exhaled through her nose, already growing tired of his questioning. "Your eagerness is appreciated, but tonight will be spent on a different matter. I need to warn all of you about the karnen and the dangers of Lorian. Your friends are my wards too, after all."