Planet Zar: Nexus

⦿ Rubble rains from overhead as the east wing of Zaifeth's temple of Courage crumbles in a burst of black-red energy. Acolytes yell and scramble out of the way as a volley of spells shoots toward the rubble, flinging it from harm's way.

⦿ Persze sits in the center of the chaos, wreathed in shadow. His form flickers and grows minutely as he absorbs the efforts of his destruction.

⦿ Aara gathers the non-magical folk who were injured and casts Lay on Hands to mend their scrapes and cuts from the rubble. Dabir rushes past her to retrieve Persze from the mess, exasperated and frightened.

⦿ Dabir: What did you do?

⦿ Persze: I need to grow! I can't be a god if I don't practice my powers.

⦿ Dabir: You could have killed someone!

⦿ Persze bristles, his shadows looming, but his eyes cast about the room and the group of frightened acolytes that Aara is aiding. He shrinks down, jaw grit. Angry and frustrated with himself.

⦿ Persze: I didn't mean to, I was trying to explode a few plants.

⦿ Dabir: The temple is not the place.

⦿ He takes a deep breath. Exhales. Persze is young and unlearned. Dabir cannot treat him like an adult and expect him to achieve perfection in his abilities so quickly. It's difficult when Persze is so powerful, knowing he could easily kill everyone in the temple and beyond with a chaotic outburst of his destruction powers. He must learn to control himself.

⦿ Dabir sinks down to a crouch in front of Persze.

⦿ Dabir: We need to teach you some control-

⦿ Persze bristles immediately.

⦿ Persze: I'm not meant to be controlled. I'm going to be a god! I know not to destroy everything. I'd be a pretty poor god if I did that sort of thing, but I don't need my wings clipped! I need my powers.

⦿ Dabir: I don't mean to put you on a leash or stop you from destruction, I just mean controlling the intensity of your powers.

⦿ Dabir removes a small shard of obsidian from his robes and places it on the ground. He flattens his palm over it and mutters an incantation beneath his breath. The ground rumbles and quakes around them, a few splits crack the temple floor. Then it stops.

⦿ Dabir: Like that.

⦿ Aara ushers the acolytes from the room and steps up behind Dabir, setting a hand on his shoulder.

⦿ Aara: One day you'll have your own temple and you don't want to send it crashing down around you and your priests, right? Maybe a few magic lessons would be good for you.

⦿ Persze narrows his eyes, considering. He surveys the destruction around him, then Dabir's fine cracks in the floor that barely extend far enough to touch Persze's intangible toes.

⦿ Persze: Alright. Teach me.

⦿ Aara scoops him up into a hug, grinning. Persze flaps his tiny wings and struggles momentarily - but it's mostly for show. He enjoys the affection and adoration.

⦿ Dabir and Aara help start repairs to the destroyed wing of the temple, along with several other magic users, but once things are well on their way they retrieve Persze and leave the temple.

⦿ Zaifeth's temple is a monstrosity of a thing on the edge of a large city. Beyond it are rolling hills of wild flowers that brush the edge of a deciduous forest. The air is sweet and clean, the skies clear blue and cloudless. Persze's shadowy form is difficult to look at in the direct sunlight, like staring too hard at an optical illusion. Dabir and Aara lead him down the grassy moors into the dip of a shallow valley. A patch of pink four-petaled flowers sways lazily in the warm breeze. Dabir stops and turns to Persze. Aara continues a little way up the next hill and sits in the grass, her knees crooked. She watches them with a fond, if intent, expression.

⦿ Persze knows why she's here. Aara has some minor magical abilities courtesy of Zaifeth, but she's here to protect Dabir... from him.

⦿ But Dabir is still here, willing to help him.  So that's something, right?

⦿ Persze sits and eyes Dabir expectantly.

⦿ Dabir: I realize our magic doesn't work entirely the same way, but for both of us it's in our blood. Innate.

⦿ Dabir extends a hand. Electricity crackles from his palm, sparking over his flesh and making the hairs on his arm stand on end. Dabir shakes his hand and dismisses it.

⦿ Dabir: It's part of us and we should be able to control it as finely as we control our hand gestures, our expressions.

⦿ Persze: Are you going to tell me to clear my mind? Take deep breathes?

⦿ Dabir huffs.

⦿ Dabir: That never worked for me. No, I'm going to ask you to focus.

⦿ He points at the swaying clump of pink flowers.

⦿ Dabir: Just there. Don't ignore everything around it, know it's there. Know what will happen if your magic extends beyond your target. Feel the consequences of that destruction.

⦿ Persze: I don't care about a bunch of grass.

⦿ Aara: You should. This grass is part of Lomeelas, part of the cycle of this world, part of the balance. Without grass, we can't have wildlife and livestock.

⦿ Persze: That doesn't mean this grass matters

⦿ Aara: Then I don't matter and neither does Dabir. We're just two people in a sea of thousands. What's the difference?

⦿ Persze quiets, thinking. He's angry and embarrassed, upset about his own failure in the temple. He knows he can't destroy everything, or there's nothing for him to reign over. This was Cassimir's problem. If there was no Lomeelas, what was he the god of?

⦿ Persze turns his attention to the clump of pink flowers and concentrates.

⦿ The grass matters, he tells himself.

⦿ Shadows flicker and gather around him, growing the illusion of future-wings-to-come. He snarls and lets his will surge from him. There's no visible manifestation of the action. The shadows remain around him, the sun continues to shine, the breeze blows sweetly through him.

⦿ The patch of pink flowers blacken and explodes into shreds of foliage. Persze drinks in their energy - fresh and young, but the barest drip of power. He shuts his eyes and pulls for more.

⦿ Someone shouts. Persze thinks it's Aara bit it's difficult to hear above the tantalizing taste of energy. He slits his eyes open.

⦿ Aara spring to her feet and races for Dabir. She flings her hand out and casts a wave of red-gold energy that encompasses herself and Dabir.

⦿ The grass around their feet is ash grey and wilting.

⦿ Persze reels back and the spread of destruction stops. The tantalizing tingle of energy is lessened by the taste of shame. And with the humiliation of failure comes rage.

⦿ Aara drops the shield and she and Dabir hurry to Persze's side. Aara reaches out to touch him but his form quavers and shakes into different shapes, immutable.

⦿ Dabir shuts his eyes and gestures, releasing a spell. Persze's anger and frustration dull to quiet calm and he sighs, slumping back to his natural form.

⦿ Dabir: That was good

⦿ Persze: It really wasn't

⦿ Dabir smiles.

⦿ Dabir: Power is tempting, all magic users discover this. Learning moderation is one of the most difficult parts of being a magic user, regardless of your class.

⦿ Aara: And it's probably even harder for a young god.

⦿ Dabir: We'll practice, you had it at the start. Cutting yourself off from more will take time.

⦿ Aara: But maybe we should keep our power usage to outside the temple and away from people who can't defend themselves, hm?

⦿ She mimes scruffing his head, but Persze is careful to make his form properly intangible. He doesn't want his mane mussed!

⦿ Persze: That... sounds acceptable to me.

⦿ Aara: There's no rush to grow into your power, Pers. Take the time to be careful about it.

⦿ Persze nodded for the show of it, but he wasn't certain he believed her. Dabir's ambivalent expression implied the same. Cassimir was coming and Persze was meant to be part of that fight.

⦿ But maybe she was right. Maybe it was better to take his time and learn how to come into himself, then rush and do half of Cassimir's work for him.