“Oh, apologies, that’s not what I meant. I’ll graft purified dream madra into him and let his own spirit rebuild itself.”
“It’s doing that already.”
“Yes, but if I let it continue, it will be like he’s being born all over again. There’s no telling who he’ll become.”
At his core, Dross was a compilation of many minds and spirits that had been pieced together and then developed into an individual over time. But on some level, he was still a memory spirit. Just remembering who he had been might be enough to make him that person again.
Or it could start him over from the beginning.
Seisha looked completely overwhelmed. “Okay…let’s say you can do that. What happens next?”
“Well, improving the connection in that ring would hook over to this one, which would accelerate its regeneration. That’s my biggest concern. If I could make all the repairs at one time, I’d get Dross back as he was. But fixing one link in the chain starts a cascade I can’t predict.”
Lindon could tell his mother was only following him on the most theoretical level. He had hoped her years of experience would make up for her faulty education, but then again, this was a unique spirit. Perhaps the only expert in the world was Northstrider.
And the Monarch had never responded, no matter how many times Lindon called his name.
“So if you were to repair him, you’d either be bringing him back to life…or killing him.”
That phrasing hurt, so Lindon focused on the job. “Technically, he should be functional now. Just without much personality or most of his memories. That’s what I’m trying to bring back.”
“I see,” Seisha said faintly.
Then she corrected herself.
“No, I don’t see at all. But I will.”
With determination, she began sketching Dross’ internal structure. Her drudge bristled with sensors and flew all around.
To his mother, every new mystery was an opportunity to learn. That was something he’d always been proud of.
But he had hoped she would know an answer that would help him now. Just waiting to see if Dross recovered went against everything he wanted to do.
He wanted Dross back.
Lindon released Dross, letting the purple loops fade back into a ball at the back of his spirit. “For now, he needs time. He’ll stabilize slowly, which will give him better odds of recovery. I hope.”
Seisha placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. All we can do is our best, and the rest is up to the heavens.”
Lindon clenched Suriel’s marble in his hand and nodded.
“Not fair,” Yerin said, immediately upon catching sight of Lindon.
Little Blue and Orthos had finished supervising Kelsa’s training for the day, and now they were sitting on his shoulders again.
“You could raise a spirit of your own,” Lindon pointed out. “There are Sylvan Riverseeds forming out by the pond.”
“You ever spent time chatting with a sword spirit? No, because they’re always cutting. And blood spirits are…” She shuddered.
Lindon had interacted with some blood-aspect Remnants, and even their dead matter tended to act as sadistically as possible. Then again, the only real blood spirit he had spent any time with was Ruby, and she was an exception in most ways.
Little Blue gave a little chime of sympathy and ran down, leaping off Lindon’s sling and over to Yerin. Yerin caught her, looking pleased.
“You are a peach and a half. You don’t have to ride him around all the time, you know. You’re invited to stick to me.”
Little Blue whistled that she was sticking with both of them, and if anything, Yerin looked even more touched than before. Lindon thought she might cry.
“Aren’t you a gem. You know how to pick ‘em.” Yerin nudged Lindon’s shoulder. When she jostled his arm, she noticed his sling again. “Still can’t piece that together?”
Lindon sighed. “The underlying structure of the binding is damaged. No matter how much hunger madra I add, I can’t fix it.” In fact, the problem was essentially the opposite. He had flooded the arm with madra of a higher quality than he could handle when he’d Consumed energy from the Wandering Titan.
At this rate, he’d have to replace it, but he was holding back. He needed to find hunger madra of a higher quality, and there was only one source for that. Without it, he could potentially get the binding working temporarily, but it would be a patchwork fix at best.
Yerin hesitated, stroking Little Blue’s hair while she searched for the right words. “Not taking a side myself, understand, but why don’t you grow a new arm? Like, one with skin.”
“I don’t want to lose the technique. Consuming power is the fastest shortcut I have for advancing.”
Most people didn’t have the option of regrowing body parts, and they needed a Remnant prosthetic. But most people didn’t have Sages and Monarchs who owed them favors. Lindon was certain he could get his arm back if he wanted it.
But he didn’t. The new one was more convenient, and his sense of touch was even returning with time. When he advanced to Herald, he expected it to be just as good as his old arm would have been.
Of course, when he advanced to Herald, that would make him a Monarch.
“You planning on fighting one-handed all the way to Monarch?”
“I could fix it after that, I suppose.”
She broke into a crooked grin and leaned into him. Little Blue gave a tinkling laugh.
“Just thought hitting Monarch wouldn’t take long, didn’t you?”
Lindon cleared his throat. “Not exactly…”
“Can’t lie to me. My dream techniques are too powerful.”
“Well...without Consume, I will definitely be slower.”
Yerin leaned deeper into him until he wrapped his arm around her. “Wouldn’t mind trying that myself, for a change. Dragging our feet, seeing the sights.”
Lindon was reminded of a blood-spirit who had been excited to see the world with her own eyes. Ruby. He glanced at the red streak of Yerin’s hair and wondered how much of that longing remained.
People had been telling Lindon to slow down for years, but he had never felt like he could afford to. Now, though…
Yerin went on. “Most sacred artists are advancing for something. Keep a home, take over a sect, kill a rival…bake a cake, I don’t know. Not saying that’s for you and me, but I just thought…maybe we could try it for ourselves, since we’ve got the chance. See through their eyes for a while.”
As much as Lindon ached to do something, he was beginning to think she might be right. The Dreadgods were loose out there…but they weren’t about to kill him, and they weren’t his responsibility anyway. He couldn’t explore the labyrinth yet, he couldn’t fix Dross yet, and he couldn’t advance yet.
All he had left to do was cycle normally and investigate his Sage powers.
And just…live.
“I guess we could try that,” Lindon admitted. “For a while, at least.”
The caravan of cloudships were not as advanced as those provided by the Akura family to reach the Uncrowned King tournament. They took three months to get from the Desolate Wilds to Serpent’s Grave, landing regularly to refuel their constructs from ambient aura and their store of scales.