The cheeps, chimes, and whistles from Little Blue came in a constant stream, telling him not to trust the Blood Shadow, that it was evil and vicious, and reminding him of what it had tried to do to Yerin.

Meanwhile, Lindon ran his eyes over the belongings in his void key.

It took him a minute to find what he was looking for, as it was perfectly ordinary and felt like nothing to his spiritual perception, but he finally reached out with a gentle grip of wind aura and pulled a roll of blankets from beneath a pile of boxes and packages.

“Why don’t you take the bed, Ruby?” Lindon suggested. “I don’t mind staying on the floor. If you need to sleep, I mean.”

Lindon himself intended to only rest for an hour or two and then head out to work on Soulsmithing. He knew Little Blue slept, and even Dross rested when Lindon did, but he had never considered what a Blood Shadow needed.

Ruby was still warily eyeing Little Blue, who stood like a guard dog between him and the Blood Shadow.

“I sleep,” she said. “Mostly that’s all I do. And I never guessed how having my own body would tire me out.”

She looked up to Lindon. “Don’t leave, you hear me?”

“I’m going to take a nap myself,” he said, rolling out the blankets. “Right here. On the floor.”

He didn’t want there to be any confusion.

Ruby curled up into a ball over the blankets. “If it looks like I’m going to slip back to her spirit, you’d stop me, true?”

Lindon hesitated. “You’ll have to go back eventually.”

“Two days,” she sighed. “Still got two whole days.”

23

In one of the broad, open training rooms provided by the Ninecloud Court, Yerin sat in a circle of natural treasures and tried to advance.

“It’s not always about making guesses until one feels right,” Charity said. “Sometimes you can look at yourself from a new lens and the answer will suggest itself.”

Charity had given Yerin access to the records of the Uncrowned King tournament, showing her how the crowds thought of her. She’d shown Yerin memories from her own viewpoint and from Charity’s.

Both Sages had even shared with Yerin the memories of their own advancements to Overlord, though those were hard to store in a dream tablet. There was so much context missing, and the memories relied so much on personal viewpoint and interpretation, that Yerin was sure she didn’t get the full meaning out of either event.

But Yerin tried her best. Meditation and training helped her forget that Ruby had used the Moonlight Bridge to run off, and stopped her from imagining what she could do to the Blood Shadow when Ruby returned.

Or where she might be at that moment.

“Not every revelation is verbal either,” Charity continued. “They often are, but many Lords and Ladies advance without knowing exactly what their revelation was.”

“Don’t know that I can boil myself down to a handful of words,” Yerin said.

They’d had this conversation already, but the Heart Sage responded patiently. “The Overlord revelation does not sum up your entire self. How can one statement do so much? Instead, it gives you a new insight into how you relate to the world.”

I will stab anything in my way, Yerin thought.

No reaction from the aura.

Shame. That one had felt right.

Min Shuei walked up carrying two identical swords and tapped Charity on the shoulder. “How about we tag out? I’m sure the Akura clan is falling apart right about now.”

Charity gave her a cool look. “The Akura clan is perfectly capable of operating on its own in times of crisis. While we give the clan insight and guidance, we are hardly—”

“Yes, sorry, I’m sorry, but nonetheless I’m sure you’re very busy.” The Winter Sage tossed Yerin her master’s sword. “Why don’t you go get some work done, and I’ll hold it down here?”

“We have less than thirty-six hours left,” Charity said. “I’ll be back in one.”

She looked over the both of them as though expecting an objection, then swept from the room.

Yerin let out a breath. “I owe you. Don’t know what else I can shake loose on my own.”

“Oh, this isn’t a break. Just a change of pace.”

The Winter Sage came at Yerin—no Enforcer technique, but she had the strength of an Archlady. Yerin had to fuel her Steelborn Iron body just to turn her first blow aside.

“Did you know how Adama advanced to Overlord?” the Winter Sage asked casually, as she swept Yerin’s counterattack aside.

Yerin groaned inwardly. She did know the story.

Not from her master, who didn’t like sharing stories about himself, but from the Winter Sage. She seemed to think she could hammer Yerin into his mold by sheer repetition.

“He dueled every sword artist he could reach.” It was impressive seeing Min Shuei keep up a chat while landing a blow that launched Yerin to the ceiling. “Overlords, Underlords, even Lowgolds.”

Yerin herself found it hard to listen when she was desperately trying to defend herself. She focused on the fight, letting the words flow past her.

“After every duel, he would ask the other person what they thought of his style.”

Yerin tried to be clever by catching one strike on her Goldsigns, but the Winter Sage retaliated by reaching out with one of her own: a four-foot-long claw of ice extending from her forearm.

“He wasn’t as powerful as you are, you know,” she went on. “He was disciplined. He was renowned.”

Yerin leaped back, creating space. “Thought my Overlord revelation was supposed to be about me.”

“You think you know better than I do?” Min Shuei snapped. There were no Striker techniques allowed, but it looked like she was about to throw one. “Who better to give you inspiration? You have his Path, his sword, his Remnant, his clothes.”

“I hear you,” Yerin muttered. She moved in for a halfhearted strike, trying to start the fight up again, but the Winter Sage slapped her blade aside.

“He is the reason why you are alive, not to mention why you have any connection to sword authority at all. Do you think you have nothing to learn from him? Do you think that because you have more power than he did at your age, that means you have more wisdom?”

“I get it!” Yerin shouted, using more power into her strike than she meant to.

The two blades clashed like thunder, but this time the Sage had put more than just physical strength into her block. She didn’t move an inch, though her white hair rippled in the shockwave, and she looked furious.

“You don’t want to hear about him, you don’t want to talk about him, but you want to succeed him. Well, if you want to be the next Sage of the Endless Sword, you should know everything about him! You should remember him!”

Yerin hurled her sword.

It wasn’t an attack—the blade tumbled over the Sage’s shoulder and stuck in the wall.

She’d just had enough.

“I’m not him!” Something flickered in her spirit, but she kept going. “Not trying to be him, am I? He would have wanted me here, so I’m here. All he wanted was to pass on his Path, and I’m going to do it if I bleed for it! But I’m not him!”