Shroudbreak +20 years...

She wasn’t nervous because she couldn’t be nervous. She was Dauntless after all, and the effects of fear simply didn’t rouse themselves to bother her.

Still, the anticipation was killing her.

She’d never met him in person. Actually, none of the family had. He’d earned a place being taught by Queen Morningwind when he turned fifteen, his opposed Bloodlines long manifested and spun away into a strong and vital Arcane Bloodline, giving him the road to magic that his mother had never had.

Hah...

Elrii Rantha exhaled softly.

The Souldive had shaken up her worldview, despite itself. She understood why they’d done what they’d done. The Rantha Curse had been powerful enough to remove her from the Shroud with aid, and given her a chance at the life and love and strength she’d not had in her last time around.

She wasn’t Elrii Morningdark, not anymore. She was Elrii Rantha, a totally ass-kicking hunter of Fiends and the servants of Shoul, who her mother had happily set her loose upon, and she had hunted them down with terrible focus and energy despite herself.

The God of Shadows had made a lot of inroads in many places. There were always people begging for power, willing to do almost anything for it, and Shoul loved preying on them and spreading the dread of His Name. Whether they succeeded in their plots in the end made little difference to the God of Night and Murder as long as His Name was recognized, and His power and place acknowledged.

Knowing that, offing His minions didn’t bother her at all, as first of all, He couldn’t see her directly as a Null, and secondly, He’d just get more. She didn’t slap His face directly or call Him out or anything, just cleaning the field of His people and servants, and using the chance to Level.

Making Eight was a lot easier for her than her mother, now that the Shroud was gone. There were powerful creatures around in the shadows to hunt, and she enjoyed hunting them, with or without friends along to help, a burning need to reap them and Level-up driving her as it had her whole life.

But now she knew why she hated the Church of Shoul so much, why her mother had started her long road on the assassin teams and hit squads and information networks of Shoul, and why she always went back to hunting them when she wasn’t called on for help elsewhere.

The Dark Hag was what the Church of Shoul called her in their own well-deserved dread, and she flicked back her black hair proudly, tipped with silver ever since she was born, totally unlike her mother Sama’s golden locks, or the messy brown of her father Briggs.

Her mother had told her no incarnation dive to find out who she’d been until she reached Eight and Charisma 30, and the Church of Shoul and its antics had provided a lot of that Karma. The rest had come as part of strike teams, often led by Heavenbound, against other people who thought that dealing with Fiends and Aberrants was a good idea to get some power for themselves, regardless of the threat to the locals, the land, or the world...

Finding out she wasn’t named after the Lady Traveler, the woman who had saved the world, had been a jarring shock. She was the woman who should have saved the world, if only she had known then what she knew now!

She sighed again, and glanced over, her eyes widening slightly as she saw him, and felt that instant connection.

They were in Issoma, an Elven word that meant ‘fortuitous beginning’, where the European University of Magical Studies was located, part of Queen Morningwind’s vast reclamation projects in the former Shroudzones of Germany. It was buttressed by full Temples to Sylune, Aru, Harse, and Nuava, and attended to by Casters from all over the Continent and beyond. If they came and had the Talent, they were educated so that they could use their Gifts to the best of the university’s ability to teach them, and then they could return home and contribute to the upgrading of their homelands in the never-ending grind to reclaim the lives they’d once had under technology, and maybe something more.

He was tall for a halvyr, almost six feet, with silvered eyes from his mother, and the Moonlit Hair in reverse, white with black tips, meaning he was Touched by Sylune. The Sylunar Church was expecting great things from him, as were so many others, but his childhood had been one without real magic, training in the ways of the Arcane Fist so that he could learn to grasp his Matrix, spin his Bloodlines, and free his magic from the deadlock of them.

It showed in the disciplined way he moved, not like the cheerful and relaxed manner of the Casters around them, who flitted and played with magic instinctively and unconsciously.

His silver eyes met her Rantha-blue eyes, and he blinked in astonishment, clearly taken aback. He waved at a couple students at the café who recognized him, moving smoothly through the crowd to greet her as she rose.

“Elrii Rantha? Collin Taylor,” he introduced himself, extending a hand, which she took promptly and shook. A decent measure of ki, she noted, as his eyes widened again at how smoothly their ki meshed. “Wow, I haven’t met many Nulls that hard...”

Elrii laughed despite herself. “The Church of Shoul has been generous in their offerings of Karma to me.” She gestured to the seat opposite him, smiling with the eight canines she, her little sisters, her Big Sisters, and especially her mother had made infamous. “A beautiful city they’ve built here.” She waved at the surrounding architecture, built basically up from nothing over the span of the last two decades.

“Part of our studies are practical use of magic. Adding constructively to the city is part of it... as is learning how to tamp down on more, ah, salacious uses of magic while doing so.” The pranks that continually occurred during this process were notorious, but cleaning up over suggestive or lewd deeds was all part of their curriculum.

“Work instead of tuition costs for profit,” she agreed. The students also spent time Burning gold and other power comps into magic items, learning the intricacies of doing so, as there was naturally a never-ending appetite for Artifice.

He nodded with her. “It’s a lot of work, and more mentally taxing than most would like to admit, or put up with.” There was a faint hint of resignation as he looked over the other students laughing there, but it went away as he smiled at his own thoughts. “My father is a Harsite, and pretty strict with the work ethic stuff.”

“The Ivory usually are. It’s what makes them so reliable, and why everyone else puts up with them,” she winked at him, and he rolled his eyes knowingly.

“So, why did you want to see me, Miss Rantha?” he asked carefully, fully aware that he was talking with the eldest daughter of the Queen of India and China, who was literally one of the most feared and dangerous women in the world, especially to spellcasters... and beloved of the non-Powered, who idolized her almost as much as her husband Emperor Briggs, and who female Nulls definitely did.

“Call me Elrii. I’m looking for a bondmage, and you were recommended to me,” she said straight-up.

He blinked in shock. “I was? Uh, by whom?”

“Queen Morningwind,” she replied honestly.

“Her Majesty?” he exclaimed softly, eyes flicking away. “She, uh, didn’t mention this to me...”

Marks glowed around her waist, nine of them. He stared at them as she raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ask her to Message you to verify it?” She knew he hadn’t Sworn Allegiance or taken a Mark yet, but there was no doubt what he would do when his schooling was done. Allegiance Oaths weren’t something children could swear, after all, nor could they even be Bannersworn properly.

“Yes, well, compatibility is everything in a Bondmage relationship.” She grinned at him at those words, and he flushed to his pointed ears as she did so. “Her recommendation is nice, but if we don’t gel, then it doesn’t matter at all. A Bondmage,” he added, pursing his lips in thought. “That’s a very big commitment.”

“Intimate, sexual, and consensual,” she agreed without blinking an eye, and smiled wider at how flustered he got. He had to close his eyes to regain his composure and take a deep breath.

“Leaving aside that level of... compatibility,” she grinned again at his words, eyes dancing, and he just stared for a moment at the display, “I’m... just not on your level at the moment, I fear, and I never may be. You Ranthas have a certain reputation...”

She waved the protest away absently. “First of all, a Null should be stronger than their Caster. Second, Levels come fast once you get into the field, and with a Bonded Null, you’ll be able to Cast above your weight.” He considered that, all the extra Valences he would have access to, and his eyes sparkled despite themselves. “Third, practical experience is by far the best teacher, as you and everyone else knows. The Karma gained from studies and civilian work is constant, but very, very slow in comparison. I can bring you out there to do some Good Work, and really get your feet wet.” She glanced tellingly at his ebon-tipped silver hair, more magical than but almost exactly the opposite of her own. “I am totally aware of what that hair symbolizes. The Church wants to pamper you and keep you nice and safe, and that’s totally not what Sylune wants for you.

“Silver Magic is not a gentle art. It is there to be used, to stand up against Dark Magic and Evil and light up the night. Or, in my case, light up the benighted.” She grinned widely again.

“You’re as nasty about going after the Church of Night as the Morningsuns,” he nodded thoughtfully, grimly. “Something personal?”

“The Silver Queen is at the heart of all the Hagchildren and overcoming the Hag Curse,” she replied easily. “I’m named after another Sylunar champion, and taking up that Banner from the shut-down-the-dark-magic side has worked out pretty well for me.” She let her smile slip for just a moment, and her eyes were cold, hard sapphires of doom. “And I’ve seen a lot of what that Church does, Collin Taylor. I’ll not be stopping that fight, because the Church certainly won’t.”

He thought about that, clearly excited at the idea, and a little awed by her stare. “I’m only a Four, working on my Theurgy,” he admitted to her. “Can I be of much help to you?”

She chuckled, and watched him flush again. “You’re the Caster, that’s your job to know. I have to say, I’ve never seen a decent Caster who couldn’t think up some way to be useful, and I’m perfectly willing to invest the time in a Bondmage who will stay with me until he can go wiping whole hordes of stuff so I don’t have to.”

His eyes flashed. “Casters kill armies, Forsaken kill individuals,” he quoted.

“Exactly. Killing hordes is damn tedious!” she sniffed aloofly. “Always wondering where the Casters with the big AoE’s are when a zillion cultists or demonlings or mutant beasts come piling out of the woodwork. Just give me a big daemon or something and I’ll have fun with that!”

He smiled again, then glanced down, and she knew what was coming next as his eyes narrowed. “So, mind if I ask you a more personal question?”

She thorked her Nothing To See Here. “This?” He nodded, only blushing a little. “Annis Hags are man-killers, and the Ranthas are an offshoot of them. Annis Hags don’t have anything to see there, either.” She tilted her head slightly. “However...” she purred, and watched him flinch, “there’s a Mastery associated with multiple Marks that gives a Marked person the ability to morph in a... limited fashion.” His lips pursed as she stretched out her very finely toned, still-slender arms, and swept back the luxurious mane of her very black, silver-tipped, eye-catching ass-length hair that was moving on its own, and even the harsh edges of the Cursemark along her neck and shoulders couldn’t disguise the fact that she was very, very, VERY attractive when she was focused on something.

Focused on him.

“But that’s something only our lovers get to see,” she went on, leaning forwards on the backs of her palms and staring at him with wide eyes and a very, very knowing smile...

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