“That's clear as good glass,” Yerin said, walking over to a tree to snatch up a mushroom.

She'd glanced through all the tablets already.

There were three paths before her:

The most common was feeding her Blood Shadow primarily with blood madra. Usually in the form of scales. It would still leech from her a little, but it would eventually become little more than a mass of easily controlled blood madra. This was what the Sage called a “formless” Blood Shadow, and allowed the Shadow to be used essentially as a weapon. It was the most common and easiest to both control and create...and the Sage of Red Faith spat on those who chose that path, because he considered it the weakest.

The second method, and the one that Redmoon Hall often encouraged, was feeding the Blood Shadow with actual blood. The Shadow would absorb power and substance from the blood, eventually taking on a monstrous form. It was like storing a very solid Remnant or a vicious sacred beast inside her spirit. The Sage considered a bestial Blood Shadow to have its uses—feeding the Shadow exclusively dragon blood, for instance, would eventually result in a blood dragon that lived in her soul.

But he favored the third option. The clone. He had cultivated his Blood Shadow further along this path than anyone else, and now he was effectively two Sages in one body.

It only meant that Yerin had to give the Shadow a mind of its own.

She had to feed it not just her own madra, but her blood aura—the power of her body—and her life aura. The power of her life itself.

It required soulfire techniques to control those aspects of vital aura, since her sword Ruler techniques certainly wouldn’t do it. So she couldn’t make her final choice yet, even if she wanted to.

But the day was coming soon when she would have to choose. Feed it her own life and power, or settle for a weaker weapon.

“You could turn your Shadow into a weapon,” Eithan said idly. “Or a pet. Or a clone of yourself that will make you an unstoppable force of pure destruction.”

“Hard work is quiet work,” Yerin said.

“Take your time deciding. Just because two techniques are relatively common and one is the legendary power of a Sage doesn't make one better than the others.”

“How has no one killed you yet?”

“Sheer laziness. Listen, you shouldn't worry: my wisdom is vast and deep. I have ideas about how to improve whatever Blood Shadow you create. There's a rare metal that can bond with a formless Shadow and still be stored in your spirit, which would give you a shifting, metallic weapon that responds to your every thought.”

A sword that could change shape as she fought. She could see some uses for that. What the Blood Sage considered the weakest option was only his opinion, after all.

Eithan breathed out a cloud of smoke. “Yes, if Lindon had chosen a Path other than Blackflame, I would have worked with him. Never let it be said that I stop people from making the wrong decision. Like, let’s say you don't want to combine the power of two Sages in one body—well, in two bodies...”

Yerin threw her sword at him.

Chapter 7

Hours later, the group met back up, Lindon and Orthos drifting closer to one another over the course of the day. The whole group had Thousand-Mile Clouds stored in their emerald armor—except for Orthos, of course—but they all walked, comparing natural treasures.

Eithan assured them that there was no need to hurry anymore, and it soon became apparent why.

While the darkened forest had been largely empty on their way in, now that they were headed back out, it was bustling with activity. Sacred artists flooded through the trees, mostly Truegolds, but with Highgolds here and there.

The closer they came to the towering portal of darkness, the more people they ran into. Some were already clearing trees and assembling huts, or driving wagons through gaps in the forest. Shadows passed overhead, both cloudships and flying creatures.

The bustle reminded Lindon of the Five Factions Alliance in the Desolate Wilds, but when he emerged from the trees, he realized how wrong he’d been.

This was on a greater scale entirely. It looked like an entire nation on the move.

The ground for miles on either side—so far away that the distance was choked in shadow—was covered in an army streaming from the portal. The sky was packed with ships, and the earth with carts and wagons, all bearing the symbols of different Blackflame Empire factions.

He spotted mobile gardens pulled by the Redflower family, small contingents of servants under the banner of the Arelius family, emerald-winged flyers from the Naru clan, massive stone elephants draped with the emblem of the Kotai clan, small Skysworn squads here and there, and dozens of flags and symbols that he couldn’t identify.

His spiritual sense was suppressed by the overwhelming shadow aura of the Night Wheel Valley, and he couldn’t even see as far as normal, but the scope overwhelmed him. It looked as though every land they’d passed on their cloudship journey from Ghostwater had been squeezed empty of people, though he knew that couldn’t be the case. The Emperor had called to Blackflame City only the strongest and most influential, as well as their servants and staff.

So this was the power of the Blackflame Empire.

Without discussion, they all boarded their Thousand-Mile Clouds and took to the air, Eithan expanding his to accommodate Orthos. An official on a red cloud was directing streams of air traffic, though in their Skysworn armor, they were allowed to pass easily.

Eithan wove deftly through the chaos, and Lindon didn’t question that he knew where he was going. He led them down the outer edge of the army of settlers, where people were starting to find space to stop their wagons or begin erecting shacks.

They landed near a half-completed barn, where an ancient, miniature woman with her hair in a tight bun was ordering a squad of workers. And a bustling contingent of purple spiders.

“That’s worth more than you and me put together,” Fisher Gesha snapped at a young man unloading a huge wooden chest. “You want me to carry it myself, hm?”

Purple spider-legs of Forged madra stretched out from beneath her, raising her to ordinary height, and a hooked blade of gleaming goldsteel hung on her back. Lindon had seen her only a few days before, but he still wasn’t used to feeling her with the strength of a Truegold…although he supposed that went both ways.

“Fisher Gesha!” Eithan said pleasantly. “How wonderful to find you here.”

Gesha turned to stare at him through her mask of wrinkles. “Underlord. I can’t say that I’m pleased to see you wearing…that. Is this a work visit, then? Are you here for the Skysworn?”

Eithan put on a shocked look. “Fisher, what could you have done to possibly offend the Skysworn? I am here merely to pick up my order.”

She snorted. “Only finished this morning, and that was quick, mind you. Quick. Should have known you’d be sniffing around two seconds after I…”

Gesha continued grumbling as she dug through one chest after another, placing some gently aside and hurling others away so that they tumbled over the dirt.

Finally, she emerged with an ornately carved and delicately scripted chest, slightly bigger than Lindon’s two hands together.

Eithan reached for it, but she didn’t hand it to him.

“I don’t want to cast doubt on the Underlord’s reputation, but how about payment, hm? Easier for all of us.”