The Grand Weave

Igas opened the door and strode in. "Hey, what's up with you and Cyrus?"

Isaac had his back turned, but he sat on a chair and looked out the window. Despite the source of light having its curtains thrown back, the room looked gloomy.

"Too gloomy. He's brooding." Igas thought.

The large oni sat on the edge of the large bed and rested his arms on his knees.

Isaac stayed silent, and Igas waited. The rogue was the brooding type, so this wasn't an unusual scene, but something felt off.

Eventually, Isaac summoned a bottle with a familiar snake-emblem embedded into the glass.

Igas narrowed his eyes and sat up straight. "Serious, then. Spill."

"It's nothing."

"Dragonshit." Igas crossed his arms. "You don't drink that out of nowhere. It's too precious. Spill."

Instead of replying, the bottle flew through the air, and Igas caught it, taking a swig of the stinging ambrosia in one go.

He coughed and cleared his throat, holding the bottle up appreciatively.

Isaac held his hand out, and the oni took another swig before throwing it back. Once Isaac had another shot's worth in him, he finally rocked back on his chair, only one leg left to hold him up.

"Cyrus and the other felkin Sereza somehow ended up in the same restaurant the Urry and her goons took me to. The damn felkin spied on me using his familiar."

Igas' raised an eyebrow. "So he caught you dealing with some thugs? What's the issue? It's not exactly surprising."

"They wanted information on him, wondering who he was and how he messed with the scanner. It doesn't help they spotted him summoning Áine."

At this, Igas grew serious, his brows furrowing, and a puff of cold air visibly left his lips. "Do we need to crack some heads?"

"No," Isaac said, shaking his head. "They backed off after I threatened to wipe them out. That's not the issue, though."

Igas calmed down and leaned on the bedpost, watching the rogue's grip tighten around the bottle. "Then what? What did you discuss that's got you drinking?"

"Nothing really."

He blinked. "Okaay?"

Isaac took another swig before setting it down and pushing it away. The chair's legs slammed down onto the floor, and Isaac adjusted until he faced him.

From around his neck, a thick amulet flopped onto his chest—made of silver metal with four diamond-shaped gems embedded into the silver ring surrounding the enchanted gold disc at the center.

"He didn't care what happened, and when I told him there was nothing for him to care about, he got up. Completely disinterested in probing me for information."

He frowned. "And what did his mind really tell you?"

A shadow-covered fist smashed into the table. Despite the strength behind the blow, the table held firm without a creak. It was built for people beyond tier two—people who had strength-enhancing skills.

"That damn felkin! One moment everything is fine and calm," Isaac sucked the air between gritted teeth. "And then rage, that kind that makes me want to rampage with my knife out. But only for a second! Then it's annoyance, so I get whiplashed by the crash of emotion. And after that?! Sorrow, misery, and sadness that drop me even deeper. By the gods, he doesn't even show it. I don't think he understands that it's there in the back of his head. Now, repeat that cycle. Constantly!"

The amulet gave off a subtle glow from the runes inscribed inside the gold disc.

"Are you sure?" Igas quickly held up his hands when Isaac glared at him. "Look, not doubting you. But Cyrus didn't show any of that during dinner. And we know where the rage comes from, but I thought you said he had it under control lately."

"He did, or at least I thought he did. And during dinner, it wasn't a problem. The rage disappeared during it. Only a duo cycle of joy and sadness remained."

Igas sat back on the bed and felt the heat still burning in his gut. Bera's drinks were powerful stuff.

"Then tell Teddy or Celenae to talk to him. They're the best at getting through to him."

"Maybe," Isaac whispered.

Igas raised his hand and made a grabbing motion. A tentacle slithered out of Isaac's back and underneath his arm to grab the bottle and toss it over.

With a snap, two small cups formed from ice and dropped into his palm. He filled both cups before tossing one toward the rogue. A black tentacle caught it, and Isaac lightly sipped it before returning to stare at the floor.

Bera's drink became ice-cold, but it made the burn all the more pleasant as it went down.

"Aggh," Igas sipped. "So why the hesitation? Never stopped you before. In fact, you're treating him completely different."

A glare that could swallow the world looked up at him, and he waved it off.

"Because. I... he..." a deeper sip went down with an audible gulp. "Because I don't hate him. Maybe at first, but come on. You know the story he shared. He's no longer... whatever."

Rather than push, Igas let the silence lapse. The drink was good; you might as well enjoy it.

Eventually, he finished off the glass and tossed the cup into his jaw, chewing the ice into delicious bits still infused with alcohol.

After wiping his mouth, he dropped to the bed and let the soft mattress embrace his muscles.

"What are you going to pull off during your father's party?" he asked as he closed his eyes.

Isaac snorted. "Nothing. You know the wards they employ. They'd track me the moment I approach the manor."

"Still haven't broken it yet?"

"No. And I won't be able to. Not unless I get a perk or I finally reach tier three. Might take a decade, but I'll do it and topple the house."

Isaac's voice held venom, an underlying acidity whenever he brought up his goal.

"Yet you still won't take over the house. Do you think your uncle will sit by as one of the pillars starts to crack? He likes you, but not that much."

"I have Uncle B's backing."

Igas' eyes shot open, and he sat up. "Really? Uncle Brel is a lot of things, and devoted to the kingdom is one of them. Why would he agree to back you on that?"

"It's the wish I asked for once we graduate."

He didn't need to use his mana senses. The lights in the room had disappeared, leaving only a black void. From below Isaac's feet, an abyss opened up.

Anyone else would have felt cold, the shadows stole warmth from the surroundings. But to an oni who specialized in ice?

When he grinned, ice covered the bed posts, a thin sheet of hoarfrost spreading up the column.

"You have my blade," he declared.

"Good. We'll need it."

The last of the bottle's contents flowed down their throats, and they left the room.

They had some steam to siphon off before bed.

-----------

When Isaac pushed against the stone door leading to the training room, he quickly backed up in surprise, forcing the oni behind him to step to the side.

"What the hell?" Igas protested.

He swallowed his complaint as he saw the panicked expression on Isaac's face.

Isaac pressed his back against the wall and slid down, clutching his head.

He bent down and saw the runes on the amulet flashing with an intense light.

"What do you need me to do?"

A tendril slammed against the floor, and Isaac shook his head. "Fuck."

Momentarily ignoring the man, he pushed open the door just a crack and felt a strange pressure push into his skin. Into clung to him like nectar and began to crawl its way up his body.

Backing away from the entrance, the pressure let off but remained like an irritating rash to his senses. It went beyond physical, and he flared his mana in a wave of cool air that pushed the cloying feeling away.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered fiercely.

He turned to Isaac, expecting an answer, but he found the man pressing his palms into his face, covering his eyes.

Putting aside what had just happened, he bent and tapped Isaac's wrist. In reaction, the man dragged his hand down his face, revealing a cheek wet from fresh tears dripping off his chin.

The sclera around his eyes was red from strain, and the man lashed at the floor again.

"I... shut it."

Nodding, he turned back towards the door and activated his Armour of the Frozen Monarch. Ice encased him from head to toe, but he cut the amount of mana supplied to the skill and kept it only a thin replica of the usual suit he donned for battle.

Once geared up, he pushed open the door enough for him to see inside. The pressure came and attacked his armour. His skill repelled it, but enough slid in through the cracks that he still got a taste of what the pressure carried within it.

Rage. Misery.

"So this is what Isaac felt. Must be hell on him if it slipped through the enchantment," he thought.

The opening widened by a crack, and more pressure rushed forward, trying to swallow him in its energy.

He ignored that and focused on the lone figure inside the room, lying on the floor while four little spirits rested on their master's chest.

Only Zharia, the little phoenix, looked up. The flames around her body flared high enough to reach a foot into the air.

Holding both hands up, he nodded and backed off, pulling the door closed as he stepped over the threshold. The pressure faded away with another blast of cool air, and he dropped the skill. Ice melted into drops of water that receded into his skin.

To his right, Isaac stayed on the floor, his chin resting on his knees. The tears were gone, but his cheek remained wet.

"It's-" he started.

Isaac shook his head. "I already know. After a while, one's thoughts tend to have their own mark. I recognize his damn well."

Ignoring the rude cutoff, Igas flexed his fingers and crushed the remaining bits of ice into fine dust. "Are you good?"

Silence.

Before he could ask the question again, Isaac held out his hand and he helped him up. Once up, the man threw on his hood and pulled up his mask.

"I don't feel like stabbing you right now. I'm off."

He grunted in response and crossed his arms. "Figured. You off to talk to Teddy?"

"Yes."

"Aight. You owe me a drink, then. I'll return to my room."

Isaac nodded, and a pool of black began to swallow him up. He sank into the floor, but not before glancing at the training room door and shaking his head.

Once alone, Igas summoned another chunk of ice and chucked it into his mouth. The pressure left a lingering taste on his tongue.

Between crunches, he shook his head and started heading down the hall. "I bet the younglings would enjoy a visit tomorrow. Should probably rope Celanae into coming with; they do enjoy her singing. Hmmm..."

The last ice chunk crunched beneath his molar and sighed. Life was easier when you can cut things in half. He did warn the man that mental passives were dumb.